9
ATLAS
When I get home,Dad is in the kitchen, making himself a sandwich. He looks up when I walk in, and surprise flashes across his face before he covers it.
“Atlas?” he says, setting down the knife. “I thought you’d be back later since you were with Kai.”
“Yeah, well,” I say, slumping onto one of the kitchen stools. “I asked if he wanted to grab some food but … I don’t know, Kai was weird and then he left.”
Dad abandons his sandwich fixings and gives me his full attention.
“Kai was weird?” he asks, leaning against the counter. “What do you mean?”
I hesitate, not sure how much to say. My parents have always been super supportive, but talking about guys I see was never a thing with us. Is it a thing anyone does with their parents?
“After the meeting, when everyone was leaving, I asked him if he wanted to grab food,” I say. “And he just … shut down. He made some excuse about having work to finish and left. Like, he couldn’t get away from me fast enough.”
“What happened before that?” Dad asks. “What did you two talk about?”
I take a deep breath. “He asked if I’d stay in Pine Ridge. After all of this with HelixGen Corp is resolved. If I’d consider staying.”
Dad’s expression shifts—interest, curiosity, maybe a little hint of hope.
“And what did you say?”
“I said there’s nothing in Pine Ridge for me.”
The words sound worse the second time, and I realize what I’ve done. Dad goes very still.
“Why would you say that?” he asks gently. “Especially to someone who clearly cares about you?”
I look away, unable to meet his eyes. “Because I’m in debt, Dad. A lot of debt. Credit cards, loans, money I borrowed from Jordan. I’m homeless. I’ve been crashing with Jordan for months. Before that, I was basically living in my car for a few weeks after I lost my job.” The confession tumbles out, and when I look back, concern has deepened in my dad’s expression. “I need a high-paying job if I’m ever going to be out of this mess. And Pine Ridge doesn’t have those kinds of jobs. I can’t stay here and expect Kai to support me while I figure things out. That’s not fair to him.”
Dad is quiet for a long moment. He pushes his sandwich away and comes around the counter to sit on the stool next to me. He doesn’t touch me—just sits there, processing what I’ve told him.
“How much debt are we talking about?” he asks finally.
“Thirty-seven thousand dollars,” I say. “Maybe more. I’ve been trying not to calculate it exactly because it makes me want to throw up.”
“And you’ve been carrying this alone?”
“Yeah. I didn’t want to worry you and Mom. I didn’t want you to know that your son was a complete failure.”
Dad reaches over and grips my shoulder. “You’re not a failure, Atlas. You stood up for what you believed in, and it cost you. That takes courage.”
“It doesn’t feel like courage.”
“Could you work from home?” Dad asks, shifting gears. “Do your design work remotely?”
“I … yeah, I guess I could. Most of my work is digital anyway. I could do it from anywhere that has internet.”
“And you said you were blacklisted from Denver companies?”
“Yeah. My former boss made sure of that. He basically nuked my reputation in the Denver tech scene, which is why I’m stuck. I’m at a loss as to what to do next, and nothing seems like the right solution.”
Dad puts his hands on my arms. “Then why not look further afield? There are tech companies all over the country. You could work for a company in California or New York or anywhere else. You don’t have to be in Denver to find work. You don’t even have to be in the same state.”
I hadn’t thought about that. I’d been so focused on the Denver market, on the idea that I’d somehow need to rebuild my reputation there, that I hadn’t considered looking elsewhere.
