Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Twist. Stop. Twist.
She reminds me of the kind of love you build a life around while you pretend you’ll get to keep it.
I push the cold cider aside, take a shot of straight bourbon, and savor the burn.
After one more shot, I can admit what’s really going on.
It’s not that I’m betraying Sarah.
It’s that I could fall in love with Kira and risk losing her, too.
CHAPTER 21
KIRA
I keep myself busy in the days that follow my near-kiss with Atlas.
I join Grizz in the kitchen when he cooks, and ask Viper questions about the camera feeds when he’s in the mood to answer. I take short walks on the cleared paths when the weather allows it.
When Atlas is in the room, I don’t linger. I don’t follow him into quieter spaces the way I did before. I’m not embarrassed about what happened, but I don’t want him to feel any pressure.
What happened between us in the kitchen that night didn’t feel like rejection. It felt like restraint. And it only makes me respect him more.
I need space for myself, too, to make sure I’m not being drawn to him out of fear or survival instincts. I want to know I’m not grasping for safety or seeking physical contact to feel alive again.
Atlas notices the space. He watches me with the quiet awareness he brings to everything. He doesn’t pull away, but he doesn’t come closer, either.
Keeping my distance results in days that feel far too long, even though I go to bed early.
When I can’t fall asleep, I read a book to quiet my mind, and it usually works. I drift off one night, only to wake what feels like moments later.
I was dreaming. Flashes from cameras were going off all around me as a hand tightened around my wrist, where no one could see. Every time I tried to pull away, the lights got brighter, and the fingers holding me dug in deeper.
I check the phone on the bedside table. Barely an hour has passed since I lay down.
Afraid the dream will come right back if I try to go back to sleep, I pull a sweater on over my pajamas and step out into the hall.
An uneasy feeling lingers, and I don’t want to be alone.
Lights are still on downstairs, which is no surprise. Quick peeks into open doorways confirm the other bedrooms are empty.
The kitchen is also empty, except for the reliable pot of cider on the warming burner. No one’s in the living room, but light shines up from the stairway that leads to the ops center.
I hesitate at the top of the steps, unsure who I’ll find if I go down. This late at night, Grizz might be working down there in his corner. Viper’s likely to be in his alcove. Atlas—
I stop myself before the thought finishes forming, and I go anyway.
The low electronic hum grows clearer as I descend. The world is being watched even while I sleep, or try to sleep, as the case may be.
Atlas is standing at his desk, already looking my way, even though my steps were quiet.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks. A day’s growth of silvered scruff accentuates the strong angles of his face. His eyes look more gray than blue.
I shake my head. “Bad dream.”
He pulls out a chair. “Have a seat.”
His thoughtful efficiency helps to pull me away from the remnants of my dream and into the present moment. I sit in the offered chair, tucking my feet up under me.
When I wrap my arms around myself for warmth, he steps out of the room and returns with a blanket, tucking it around my shoulders.
The way he anticipates my needs without me even having to ask makes my chest ache.
“Where are Grizz and Viper?”
“Walking the fence line. The sensors don't like the temperature swings.”
Several minutes of comfortable silence follow. Atlas continues to scan his monitor, taking a drink of coffee that’s probably cold. His throat works as he swallows, capturing my attention a few seconds longer than it should.
“Do you ever get tired of waiting?” I ask.
His brows lift. “Waiting for what?”
“The other shoe. The thing you can’t control.”
He draws in a deep breath, and his broad chest expands. “That’s most of life.”
I huff out a humorless laugh. “I always thought if I worked hard enough and planned carefully enough, I could avoid uncertainty. Turns out all it takes is one man with a charming smile and empty promises.”
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t say anything.
“I hate feeling trapped.” I stare at my hands, where they clutch the ends of the throw blanket. My fingernails are all filed short, cuticles dry from the weather. “It’s like my life is on hold. I have to wait until someone else decides what happens next. I know I’m safer here than anywhere else, but some days, it feels like I don’t have any choices left.”