“You gave that guard a job, and I’m sure he was grateful. But the truth is, there are things we can’t control, can’t predict, and can’t prevent. That doesn’t make it your fault. That’s life.”
Atlas looks away from me again.
“Eyes on me.” He’s staring at his bloodied knuckles, which I only now notice, as if he didn’t hear me.
“Please, look at me,” I try again, and his gaze finally meets mine. “It’s not your fault.And the fact you care this much about an innocent life lost shows you’re a good man.”
“A man who lost control in his rage and killed a junkie tonight. That’s the kind of man I am.”
“So? I would’ve probably killed him, too. That’s the kind of woman I am. But killing monsters doesn’t make us bad.”
I shift my legs, pulling away from his lap and getting off the bed. Standing next to it, I offer my hand, waiting for him to take it.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, and I’ll tell you a story.”
Extending his hand into mine, he gets off the bed and follows my lead into the bathroom.
I start pulling the shirt down off his shoulders, before I open my mouth to speak.
“My family . . .”
There’s an instant shift in his expression, and it’s more than a spark of curiosity.
“We were on the run. And we did everything we could to lie low for almost a year. One night, my brother dragged me to a party with him.”
The shirt falls to the ground, and I reach for his belt.
“Long story short, Milo ended up beating a guy to within an inch of his life, for trying to force himself—” I cut myself short, seeing the way his jaw ticks and the veins on his neck pop out like they are one wrong word away from rupturing.
I amnotfinishing this sentence.
“Give me his name!”
“No.” I glide my palm on his cheek. “He didn’t get to do anything to me.”
As I push his pants and boxers down, the story is the only thing keeping my attention from drifting lower. I slip my hand into his and lead him to the shower.
“But beating this guy up wasn’t enough for my brother. Milo set his custom-made BMW on fire. The next day, a news crew showed up at our school to report on the events. My dad was called in after Milo got into a fight with one of that BMW asshole’s friends. Guess who made it into the background of the shot, which was front-page news? We knew we were fucked, and we had to pack and leave fast. But we weren’t fast enough.”
Turning the water on, I adjust it to a pleasantly warm temperature. Atlas tries to pull me in with him, but I slip away from his grip, heading for the first aid kit, while the soot and the blood wash off his body.
“For the longest time, I blamed myself. If I hadn’t been at that party, Milo wouldn’t have beaten that guy up and set his car on fire. Thenmy dad wouldn’t have made it into the background of the front-page news, leading to us being found. See how the chain of events unfolds?”
When I get back to Atlas, he hasn’t moved, eyes following me unremittingly.
“Is it my fault they are dead?”
“No.” His answer comes before the question mark settles. “Of course not.”
“Do you understand now what I’m telling you? You werenotthe one who left that man to burn, nor the one who ordered it.”
I pass him a towel that he wraps around his waist after getting out of the shower.
God, he’s a sight I’d never stop looking at if I could.
“Summer...” The sonorous tone of his voice makes that name sound like a prayer. “The way I acted this morning and throughout the day... I didn’t—”
“It’s okay. I understand.”
