Page 10 of Atlas & Miles
Atlas scooted back, and I knew I was losing them.
My hand shot out before they could stand up. “Please, no, I just . . . I can explain.”
Their mouth straightened into a line as they stood, pulling the thin strap of their purse over their head so it crossed their chest. I could’ve sworn their eyes were shiny, and the sight broke my heart. “It’s fine, Miles. It was nice catching up with you. But I need to go.”
Then they bolted, crashing through the front door in the briskest of walks before I could say anything else.
Shit.
Chapter three
Atlas
Tears burned the back of my throat as I hurried down the sidewalk toward home. I’d thought Miles had been into me, had wanted to keep our conversation going, but then he’d frozen up. I didn’t know what I’d done wrong, and I hated that I felt this way.
I hated that I’d even entertained the thought that it was something I did.
Logically, I knew Miles would’ve asked me out if he wanted to and the fact that he didn’t had nothing to do with me. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was my fault.
In the twenty years since I’d left Gomillion, I’d done everything I could to bolster my self-confidence. High school had been rough, but as I’d grown into my gender identity, embraced and started celebrating being transgender and, more specifically, genderfluid, I’d discovered myself and owned it. I’d gotten to a really good place, taking on the corporate and dating worlds and crushing them both.
But this past year had shaken me, and everything was different now.Iwas different—less confident, unsure. I didn’t feel like myself, and that was unsettling, to say the least.
Unlocking the front door to my cute but tiny rental home, I stumbled inside, closing the door behind me and dropping onto my davenport, my designer handbag still slung across my chest. Tears threatened again, but I sniffed and swiped them away as the events of the last year flew into my brain without my permission.
The downfall of my business had started slow at first. A few clients here and there moving to another firm wasn’t enough to raise any red flags. Then we started hearing through the grapevine that another firm was talking shit about our work. It was unfounded, of course, but before we even had a chance to react, our reputation had tanked, and the damage was done.
I’d paid off my business start-up loans a decade ago, so when I realized the firm was going under, as heartbreaking as it was, I knew I’d come out mostly unscathed. Financially, anyway. I absolutely loathed being the bearer of bad news—I was as sunshiny as they came in a city known for its rain—so having to look each one of my friends, my work family, in the eye and tell them I was dissolving the firm nearly broke me.
When I couldn’t sleep just hours before I had to deliver the bad news to my staff, Anson had run over to my exquisitely appointed apartment in the middle of the night so I had someone to give me a hug or a hundred. He was holding my hand as I made the decision to sell over half of my very expensive wardrobe on a resale app to make ends meet. And after I’d given a good portion of my savings to a few staff members who were struggling to find replacement jobs before their bills came due, Anson’s loans had helped me stay afloat.
I swore before I left that I’d pay him back as soon as I was able, but I could see in his eyes that he knew that wasn’t likely to happen soon. Not on my current salary.
He wasn’t wrong.
After my business—my own blood, sweat, and tears—was officially shut down and a period of serious mourning, I’d started trying to rebuild my career. At first, I’d reached out to my contacts in the industry, even set up a few coffees and lunches, and though people were sympathetic, no one had a job open for me. Soon, I widened the net until I was desperate for almost anything. No one was hiring exceptthat firm. I still had enough self-respect not to go there. Anywhere but there.
At some of those meetups, a few of my more loyal colleagues had shared insight into what had been going on behind the scenes, why I’d been so blindsided. Basically, a man named Jon Hosier had moved into the city and started undercutting the established firms, effectively stealing projects and subsequently all of our clients out from under our noses by outbidding us. Unfortunately, my firm had fared the worst—most of the firms had either avoided his cutthroat agenda or caught on to what he was doing soon enough to stop him and hold on to their business. I’d been hit first and hit the hardest, and I’d paid for it.
How the fuck could I have been so stupid?
I’d prided myself on being a savvy entrepreneuranda kind and fair boss, and I liked to believe all my employees would’ve said the same. I’d checked in on all of them before I left town, and they’d all landed on their feet.
Me? Well, I supposed the fact that I was back in my hometown distraught because a cute guy hadn’t asked me out and about to start a job I was entirely overqualified for sort of said it all, right?
This was a new low.
My phone dinged with a notification, and I dug it out of the pocket of my skintight jeans to check it.Shit. Miles had messaged me.
It was on the task app I’d hired him on, but still.
I’m sorry about what just happened. Can I come over to talk?
A few seconds later, another text came in.
I still need to fix your internet.
Fuck, he did. And if he was the only handyman around here like he said, he was my only option.
