Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 119476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
“Nora?” The sound of my name on his lips is so full of hurt it takes my breath away. “I need you to breathe, Pip. In through your nose.”
He inhales deeply, and as if on autopilot, I draw air into my lungs, too.
“Now hold it.” He speaks the words softly in my ear. “And now let it out slowly.”
An unfamiliar and unexplainable sense of peace falls over me as we exhale together. Like some part of me knows he means me no harm. Or maybe it’s just finally having someone in my corner after being on my own for so long.
“You better?” He takes a few steps back from me, giving me some much-needed space.
“Yes.” I clutch my hands in front of me as I turn to face him. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
He lowers himself to sit on the foot of the bed. “Talk to me, tell me what’s going through that pretty head of yours.”
I part my lips to answer him, but no words come out. My brain is stuck on a merry-go-round, spinning over his words at breakneck speeds.
Logically, I know he’s not calling me pretty, because come on, I’ve seen me—right now I look like someone’s punching bag. An underfed one, at that.
But it’s the closest I’ve ever come to anyone other than my parents calling me anything near pretty.
So, while my brain knows it wasn’t really a compliment, my stupid heart didn’t get the memo.
The silence stretches between us, but Atlas never once pushes. He just sits and waits, everything about him the picture of patience.
“I have to check out today. Before eleven. And I’m not sure what to do or where I’m going. I think maybe to the bus station—”
“No!” Atlas is up and off the bed and in my space.
Instinctually, I drop to the floor, covering my head with my hands as I brace for impact.
“No.” His voice is this strange mixture of honey and broken glass, almost like my reaction pains him but he’s trying not to show it. “I’m—God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I swallow roughly and push myself into an upright position, so I’m sitting with my back against the dresser. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not.” He looks so crushed, sitting there on the floor with his head in his hands, that I can’t help but feel bad for him.
“No, really, it is. It’s not your fault I’m scared of my own shadow.” It sounds insincere, but I mean it; it’s not his fault. Just his dad’s, my subconscious bitterly supplies.
Atlas hangs his head even lower. “No, it’s my dad’s.”
His words give voice to my unkind thoughts.
My dad always believed people should stand on their own merit, and that we shouldn’t hold the faults of their loved ones against them. I’m trying to do that with Atlas, to give him the benefit of the doubt and not second-guess his words and motives.
It’s already hard for me to let people in, but doubly so with him. I’m not sure why, but something inside of me feels like if I let my walls down for him and he double-crosses me, I would break clean in two.
And I can’t let that happen. I can’t survive Rand’s abuse only to let his son take me out. Walls up, Nora. Walls up.
“He’s not a good man.”
“No,” Atlas agrees, “he’s not.”
We both sit here on the floor, staring at one another, locked into some kind of silent standoff, until Atlas speaks.
“Please don’t go.”
Butterflies take flight inside of me, frantically flapping their wings until I’m dizzy with conflicting desires. But ultimately, it boils down to what I need, because until I’m free of Rand, my wants don’t really matter.
“I don’t have anywhere to go.” My admission causes my cheeks to burn with embarrassment. “I can’t afford to keep staying here and—”
“Stay with me,” he says, his eagerness barely restrained. “And Ellis. Stay with us.”
Those butterflies all drop as worry settles low into my belly. I couldn’t possibly stay with them, could I?
On the other hand, where would I be safer than with a police officer? And I doubt Rand would ever think to look for me there.
“You’d have your own room,” he adds. “And we have an alarm system and cameras. You’d be safe.”
Those three words, they’re my kryptonite, and judging from the small smile curling his lips, he knows it, too.
“Just until I figure something out.” I know I need to get a job to earn some money. Maybe Atlas can help me figure out some kind of online work while I’m staying with him.
“As long as you need, Pip.”
Please don’t let me regret this…
CHAPTER 10
ATLAS
“What do you need to do before we head out?” I ask, knowing eleven will be here before we know it.
Glancing around the room, I look for something I can do to help her pack up, but aside from a small pile of clothes on the dresser, the space looks untouched.