Page 68 of Atone

“To her, or to anyone?”

“Anyone, I guess.”

“But you talk to me?”

His fingers trail down the side of my neck, pausing atthe center of my throat. “You’re not justanyoneto me, Mila Bianchi.”

I really don’t know what to make of that, but I hope the darkness in this room hides the blush burning my cheeks.

“Am I the only person you’ve spoken to since your trial?”

Alex nods, and I reach for his hands, which have fallen to his sides. I appreciate that he doesn’t immediately pull away when I lace our fingers together.

“Thank you for trusting me.” I can’t imagine how difficult it is for him or why he decided to hand his trust to me.

But I shift closer, and Alex does the same.

What does it say if trauma draws two people together?

Is this toxic?

Do I care?

We’re both too broken to heal, so it’s not like either of us is searching for someone to make them whole. I’d settle for someone who brings me peace in the madness. Who doesn’t flinch when I accidentally cut them on my sharp edges.

My thumb brushes over the scars on the back of Alex’s hand, and I sift through his darkness. Test the edges to see where mine fit with his.

The carousel spins, and he steps closer so I’m backed against a mirror in the tight walking space.

“The merry-go-round used to be my favorite ride as a kid,” I tell him, tipping my head back against the mirror. “It was as close as I could get to riding a real horse. It was also the one place where the world could spin out of control, and I’d just spin with it. It’s ridiculous what kids find comfort in.”

“Nothing about you is ridiculous to me, Mila.”

“I appreciate the sentiment.” My lips purse. “But my childhood wasn’t exactly normal. While most teenagers had sports and field trips, I was surrounded by clowns, knives, and balancing acts.”

“I had sports, and maybe I’d have preferred this.” Alex looks past me, through to the bustling carnival on the other side of the glass.

“Why do you say that?”

“I hated playing basketball growing up.” His gaze returns to mine. “Not that anyone noticed when I was so good at pretending. But I hated every second of the game. There were so many eyes on me; I knew that someday they’d see me slip.”

“On the court?”

“In life.” He takes a steady breath. “But it taught me how to hide in plain sight. I guess that was a benefit. And at least basketball was something expected.”

“As opposed to?”

“Everything else.”

It doesn’t take much to understand what he’s referring to. While the Lancasters have money, faith, and the admiration of the town, I can’t imagine that was a blessing after what I saw on their property yesterday. If anything, the pressure must have been insurmountable.

“I don’t understand what it was like to grow up like you did, but I do understand not feeling normal.” I stare up at him. “Growing up with a carnival is as far from typical as it gets. It wasn’t easy making friends.”

“Who wouldn’t want to be close to you?” Alex threads his fingers into the hair at the sides of my head.

“Because I’m so charming?”

“Because you’re everything.” He leans down to whisper in my ear. “Brilliant. Cunning. All-seeing. Youread situations like you read people—without judgment and without fear. You try so hard to close yourself off, but anyone looking close enough would see your heart bursting at the seams.” He presses a palm to my chest. “You’re so fucking strong and willful and honest. I can’t figure out what the fuck you’re doing giving me the time of day.”

---