Page 52 of Atlas

“Hey… Earth to Atlas,” Willa’s hands grasp my arms. Her fingers press into my skin. It feels good. Grounding. My whole body aches like I just came out the loser in a fight against five big dudes and a grizzly bear, but her touch is sweet. Sweeter than it’s ever been.

She had nothing to do with that.

I just lost control and the shit I normally have to try so hard to hold back came for me.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers again, so urgently. “Let me help you. You’re bleeding through your t-shirt.”

What the fuck?Right. The floor. I drove myself along the concrete, giving myself a shit ton of road rash.

“Can you sit down while I get something for you?”

I can’t sit down. I can’t stay here. I can’t do this with Willa. I may want her with everything that I am, buteverything that I am isnot nearly enough. She’s not my mother. She doesn’t deserve to have to babysit this shit like I do.

“Was it… I shouldn’t have done that,” she repeats, latching onto the last thing that happened before I wigged the fuck out.

I don’t want her to feel like this is her fault, but I know that saving her means driving her away. “No. No, you shouldn’t have done that.” I can’t force any heat behind it. I barely sound convincing even to my own ears.

Her face crumples, her burning eyes filling with tears to replace the frantic shadows. “There’s no shame in pleasure,” she whimpers, her voice shaky and thick. “Nothing we do between us is wrong. If you didn’t like it, I promise I will never do that again. I swear it. But you can’t- I- if you…”

She’s struggling and I need to help her, but I also need to leave. I need to ensure that she knows that I tried to do this and I can’t stick around and watch her ground down, worn down, broken down by who I really am. It’s not fair to her. Willa’s had enough rough shit and hard times in her life. She deserves happiness, not looking after someone who can’t even look after himself.

“It’s my job to make you feel good in any way I can,” she insists. “There’s nothing wrong with having kinks.”

“It’s not your job,” I bark out.

She hangs her head. My heart twists and wrenches. I can’t save her without hurting her. This woman who has laughed with me, cried for me, held me, gave me her secrets, trusted me, shared with me, cared for me.

“If you were ever made to feel ashamed about something like this, I- or if you were hurt…”

“No. I wasn’t. Not hurt.”

“Enjoying backdoor play is exciting, not weird. I love butt stuff. Trust me, it’s awesome. If it ends up it’s not, then that’s okay too.” She’s trying to find some humor in this, but I can’t let her. I can’t let her be so damnniceto me.

I can’t do it.

I can’t twist her words around and hurt her this way.

I can’t bring myself to break her, even though that’s the only way she’s ever going to leave me alone. She’d have to truly hate me.

I’m not strong enough to make that happen. It would hurt her to the point of crippling her and I could never cause her suffering like that. I can’t let her think that this is her fault.

“I just need to go. I can’t do this, Willa. We should never have gone anything beyond friends and now even that is wrecked.”

Of course Willa won’t let me go. She’s a fighter. She’s so damn strong and so determined to save me from myself.

She beats me to the door and stands in front of the glass, arms crossed over her chest. “What the fuck, asshole?” She stabs me in the chest, eyes blazing with real anger, but I can tell she doesn’t mean it. She’s just trying to get my attention. “You don’t get to just bow out like that. Not without a legit reason.”

“The reason is that…” I whip my hand towards the back room and then bring it in, jabbing it between us. “This… this isn’t real.”

My back starts screaming, the wet still seeping into the fabric of my shirt. My stomach spins, the sick feeling rising up again, but not like it normally does.

“What isn’t real? Emotions? Feelings? Commitment? Because if that’s what you’re saying, that’s like looking at your parents and implying that their relationship is a farce.”

“Very few people find what they have.”

“Or my sister and Bullet. Do you think that’s fake?”

“I don’t know. That’s their business.”

---