Page 20 of Soul to Possess

I dug through my bag, fingers closing around the folded bus ticket. As I made my way back down the hall, the living room came into view, quiet and sunlit. I sank into the couch, the cushions soft enough to swallow me whole. It felt like the first truly comfortable thing I’d touched in days. Atticus entered with calm, clean efficiency and sat across from me, his frame relaxed but alert. When I handed him the ticket, he took it with a faint smile, his fingers brushing mine.

He glanced over the text and gave a low chuckle.

My spine straightened. “What’s so funny?”

He didn’t look up. “You’re on the wrong end of the state, Gennie girl.”

A chill passed through me. “What?”

“You were supposed to be dropped near the Montana border—upstate South Dakota. Instead, you’re sitting a few hundred miles east, just shy of Minnesota.”

His tone was clinical, indifferent. Like we were discussing groceries.

My stomach dropped. “So I’m not evencloseto Marvin?”

“No,” he said simply.

Tears welled without warning. I was suddenly aware of how silent the world was outside these walls—how vast andblank everything had felt when I trudged through the snow. It wasn’t just that I was lost. It was that I was alone, with no one coming to find me. A sob escaped my throat. I didn’t mean for it to. One tear slipped down, then another, hot and fast. Atticus watched me for a second before reaching beneath the coffee table and retrieving a box of tissues. He extended it without ceremony.

“For the mess you’re making on your face.”

My jaw clenched. I snatched a tissue from the box, glaring through the burn in my eyes. “What kind of mess do you think I’m making?”

He smirked, slow and amused. “Looks like crying to me. Figured I’d be polite.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, voice thick.

“Well,” he said, settling back against the cushions, “you’re in quite the predicament, huh?”

I stared at the floor, more tears spilling before I could stop them.What am I going to do now?

“Yeah,” I whispered. “I guess I am.”

He leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees. “You’re not going anywhere today. Or tomorrow. Maybe not even next week.”

I looked up sharply. “Excuse me?”

“No need to get hysterical.” His voice stayed maddeningly level. “I told you already—you’re too delicate to turn into art. So relax.”

My heart slammed in my chest.

“The snow’s too deep,” he added, gesturing toward the window. “My truck’s not making it out of here until it melts. Might take a week. Maybe a month. Welcome to South Dakota.”

I couldn’t stop trembling. Every word out of his mouth twisted the situation further, like a knot tightening around myribs. My voice barely made it past my throat. “What am I supposed to do now?”

Atticus studied me, and—for once—something almost like sympathy crossed his face.

“Hey. You’re warm,” he said quietly. “You’re safe. Ish, anyway.” He smiled like that made it better. “At least you’re not going to freeze to death. And I already told you—I have no intention of turning you into art. So just… try to breathe, Gennie. Make the best of it. When the snow clears, if you still want to leave, I won’t stop you.”

I let out a bitter laugh, sharp and broken. “OfcourseI’ll want to leave. What in the actual fuck is your problem?”

His eyes lit with something unreadable. “We’ll see.”

“I. Want. To. Go. To. Marvin.” I spit the words slowly, deliberately, as if that would anchor reality. But nothing in this house felt stable. I didn’t think NOT going to Marvin would even be an option, but now I was having to spell it out in black and white for this psychotic guy.

Atticus’s smile didn’t falter. In fact, it softened.

“If—and that’s abigif, Gennie girl—youstillfeel that way when the snow melts, I’ll drive you to Marvin myself.” He tilted his head. “That said… I’d probably turn Marvin into art if I saw him. So maybe it’s best if we wait to revisit that plan next month.”

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