Page 51 of Hot Knot Summer
“I was sixteen, so about eight years ago.” I twist my grandmother’s wave pendant between my fingers. “Boating accident.”
He nods, his eyes briefly meeting mine before returning to the winding road. “That’s young to lose both parents.”
I stare out at the passing trees, their shadows dappling the sunlit road. “So, what’s your backstory?” I ask, wanting the conversation off me. “How does someone so young end up as fire chief of a town like Whispering Grove?” Claire had told me a bit about his past, but after realizing last night she might have been gaslighting me about the men, I’m not sure how much I can believe.
A shadow crosses his face. “I’m not that young. I’m thirty-two. And I got the position the hard way.”
“Meaning?” But I can’t stop thinking about his age. Eight years older than me. Chad had only been three years older, and even then, I’d thought that was something. This… this is different. I can see it in the way Atlas holds himself, in the way he looks at me, as though he already knows how this ends. And maybe that’s exactly why I can’t look away.
“That my mentor, the previous chief, died in a fire. I was next in line.”
“Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” I say, suddenly regretting my question.
“Tom was more father than mentor.” His jaw tightens, the words rough like they cost him to say. His knuckles go white on the steering wheel. “He took me in when I was about twelve. Caught me stealing food from the fire station.”
I blink, surprised by the revelation. “What happened?”
“Instead of calling the cops, he gave me a job. Then a room when he found out I was living on the streets.” Atlas’s voice remains steady. “Taught me everything I know about firefighting. About being a man worth something.”
The vulnerability in his admission catches me off guard. It’s so at odds with the confident, commanding Alpha I’ve seen these past few days. Something inside me softens, dangerous as that feels.
“He sounds incredible,” I say softly.
“He was.” The simple declaration holds volumes. “He’d like you, I think.”
“Yeah, why’s that?”
Atlas’s mouth quirks up at one corner. “He always said people who survived something hard had the best stories to tell.”
The sentiment steals my breath for a moment. “And do I have good stories?”
His eyes meet mine. “I think you’ve barely started telling them.”
The weight of his gaze makes my skin prickle. I force myself to glance away, out the window at the thickening forest. Away from the pull I feel toward him, a sensation that terrifies me.
We crest a hill, and suddenly, the road opens onto a clearing.
“How much farther?” I ask, eager to see his place.
“We’re almost there,” Atlas says but makes no move to accelerate. Instead, he shifts in his seat to face me more directly. “Emma…”
Something in his tone makes my pulse quicken. “Yes?”
“I need you to know something before we get there.” His eyes hold mine, intense and unreadable. “The past couple of days, since you entered our lives... it’s been...” He trails off, seemingly struggling with words.
“Been what?” I prompt, my voice embarrassingly breathless.
“Distracting,” he finally says. “In ways I wasn’t prepared for.”
The admission hangs between us. My throat goes dry.
“Atlas—”
“You don’t need to say anything,” he cuts in gently. “I know you’ve been through hell recently. The ex, the cabin fire, being stranded here. The last thing you need is another Alpha complicating things.”
“Is that what you’d be?” The words escape before I can trap them behind my teeth.
His gaze darkens, pupils expanding until the blue is just a thin ring around bottomless black. “I’d be a fucking disaster for you right now, Emma. And you know it.”
