Page 79 of Atlas
“Youalmostdid,” she throws back. “You went. Youwantedto. And Rue heard your voice, heard you lie to her while she was still wrapped around your damn body on that bike.”
I wince. I haven’t stopped thinking about that. Her helmet. The call. My voice in her ear.
“And now what?” Kasey continues, stepping closer. “You’re gonna beg? Promise it won’t happen again? Try to convince her that she’s different?”
“Sheisdifferent,” I say, teeth clenched. “She’s everything.”
Kasey’s glare softens for a flicker of a second, and I know it’s because she wants to believe that too. But she shakes her head. “She’s scared, Atlas. She’s not like me, she doesn’t scream and punch. She just . . . shuts down. You broke something in her that’s going to take more than apologies and sweet words to fix.”
“You really think she’ll leave?”
“She doesn’t say things she doesn’t mean.”
My chest aches like someone’s taken a crowbar to it.
“She made me promise not to talk to you. And here I am, being a total idiot.”
“You’re not,” I say quietly. “You’re a good sister. I just want a chance to make it right.”
“You might not get one,” she replies. “And honestly? I’m not even sure you deserve one. But for some insane reason, I want you to make her happy, Atlas. I want you to work.”
It gives me a glimmer of hope. “I want that too.”
“Thenactlike it,” she hisses. “No more excuses. No more soft-shoeing around what you did. If you ever want a chance in hell of getting her back, you stop trying to look better and startbeingbetter.”
She pushes off the wall and starts to head inside, but she pauses after a few steps and turns back. “Because if she cries one more time because of you? I won’t just punch you next time.”
I watch her disappear inside and release a long breath. I have to make it right.
Rue
I force myself into leggings and a hoodie, tying my hair back even though it feels like a wasted effort. My eyes are still puffy, and my head hurts from crying for most of the night, but if I stay inside any longer, I’ll lose it.
The gym is half full and humming with that mix of endorphins and effort. I put my earbuds in, choosing something upbeat even though I feel anything but, and drag myself through a workout I barely remember. It’s mechanical. Functional. Like brushing my teeth or tying my shoes. I just need to move.
Afterward, I walk toBarley & Bean, a coffee shop I don’t usually use but decide it’s best to change this part of my routine, just in case Atlas is hanging about. I order a flat white with oat milk, extra hot. The barista asks how I am, and I lie through my teeth. “Good, thanks. You?”
The coffee’s too hot to sip, so I cradle it in both hands as I head out and walk the long way home through the park. It’s quiet for a weekday. Just a few dog walkers and a jogger in the distance. The trees overhead rustle gently, sun poking through in places. It should feel peaceful.
It doesn’t.
Someone’s walking towards me. A man, older than me, maybe mid-thirties, wearing jeans and a wax jacket. There’s nothing particularly threatening about him, but my gut clenches anyway. He’s alone and smiling.
I keep walking, eyes forward.
“Hey,” he calls out, closing the distance. “Sorry to bother you.”
I glance at him, slowing my steps slightly. “Hi?”
“I just wondered, are you Rue? Rue Carter?”
I freeze mid-step. “Yes?”
He smiles again, too friendly, too deliberate. “Thought so. You look a lot like your sister. Kasey.”
My fingers tighten around the cup, and I take a step back. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”
He shakes his head, still smiling like this is some joke only he’s in on. “No, I know your sister though.”
