Page 20 of Where You Belong

He drives the car toward him, picking it up and turning it off. After setting it on the counter, he climbs up into his seat.

“You only have a few more days before you start school. Are you excited?”

He bounces in his seat, a smile spreading wide. His curly brown hair mimics the same movement.

“I’m excited.” He grins. “Ms. Layla was really nice.”

We don’t have much time before his dad will be here. The oven timer goes off, and I quickly pull out the chicken nuggets, tossing a few on the plate before adding a side of macaroni and some sliced apples. It’s not ideal, but it’ll do in a pinch.

His eyes light up when I set his plate down in front of him, and he digs in. Right as I reach for a dishrag to wipe up the counters, the doorbell rings.

“You finish eating. I need to talk to your dad.” I motion with my finger for Huxton to sit, walking down the hall toward the door.

Atlas reaches for the handle to the screen door and steps into the entryway, not bothering to wait for me to let him in.

He wears a steel gray button-up shirt and black slacks. His hair is styled neatly, reminding me of the uptight businessmen I used to see walking the streets of Chicago. He pulls his sunglasses off slowly, letting his eyes travel down my body, doing a scan of what I’m wearing.

His jaw clenches, and his eyes narrow. I know full well whatever condescending comments he’s going to make will be his jealousy rearing its ugly head, or he’ll be an asshole despite trying to cover it up.

“He ready?” he asks.

“He’s eating. He was hungry, so I thought I’d take that off your plate tonight.”

He shakes his head, clearly not liking my response.

“We need to talk about the other night.” His words come out softer, clashing with the stoic look on his face. I don’t know if it’s possible for someone to show two personalities at the same time, but he does. I’ve learned to walk on eggshells around him for this reason.

If I make one wrong move and misread him, it could turn out to be my greatest mistake.

“Okay,” I say, glancing down the hall toward where Huxton remains sitting. He’s pulled out one of the books he checked from the library and is flipping through the pages. He dunks one of his nuggets in ketchup before taking a bite.

Relieved he doesn’t seem to be paying us any attention, I turn my focus back on Atlas.

“What do you want to talk about?”

“I wanted to apologize,” he says, the last word coming out higher than I believe he intended, signifying how unlike him it is to say such a thing. I don’t remember the last time Atlas apologized to me, much less for putting his hands on me.

“Can you clarify? What is it you’re sorry for exactly?”

He rubs his thumb over his chin, glancing at Huxton before turning his attention back to me.

“You know I would never want to hurt you, Haelynn. It’s just… this past year, things have been so stressful. Between work and the move.”

When he talks about the move, he’s not talking about me moving to Arbor Creek. He’s referring to when we bought our last house together. I personally didn’t find it necessary for us to move again. The house was even farther away, adding another thirty minutes to the drive to see my mom. Huxton would have to transfer schools, meaning he’d go to his second preschool in the past two years.

It was closer to his job, though, and much like everything in life, it’s what Atlas wants or nothing at all.

We weren’t given much of a choice, so when I saw the opportunity for us to get out and make a break for it, I took it.

“You know, you can blame it on whatever you want, but it’s not what led us here. It was inevitable. It’s time you come to terms and accept it.”

“So this isn’t your way of trying to get my attention. This is what you really want?”

I exhale an exasperated sigh. I can’t even wrap my head around the mindfuck that is Atlas and everything he’s trying to say right now. The constant change, never knowing what to expect, always sitting on the edge of my seat waiting for the moment he inevitably bursts.

“Yes, Atlas.” I pause, folding my arms in front of my chest before dropping them to my side. I’m not going to cower away from him anymore, not when I felt like it was finally my time to stand and show him I’m serious. “Yes, this is what I want.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. Whatever nice guy act he was trying but failing at putting on disappeared.

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