“It still stands.” I kiss him, but he’s so stiff, like he has a stick up his ass. “The peopleyoulove get my cooking by extension.”
He cracks a smile and proceeds with his stride.
“I’ll grab some of your stuff from your dorm, and I’ll get the house in order later.” Atlas inspects the ground beneath my feet before lowering me down. “Don’t order. I’ll grab everything you need for tonight. Let’s keep this place off the map.”
Off the map . . . or off Mason’s radar?
“Only your friends know about this place?”
He nods.
Seems he really doesn’t like his father. Maybe he’d understand why I’m doing all of this. Maybe he wouldn’t even hate me for it if he ever found out.
Atlas heads for the first-floor bedroom, and the shower hisses on.
Minutes later, he comes out fully clothed while I’m leaning over the fridge to check what’s left.
He grabs me from behind, turning me to steal a kiss, and his grip on me turns savage.
“Down, boy!” I command against his lips, and amusement pushes aside the animalistic desire in his gaze.
Atlas takes a couple of steps back, running his fingers through his wet hair.
“A fair warning—Dean has a hard time accepting the fact I shared certain information with you, but I’ll keep him in check.”
“It’s okay. I’m not a fragile thing.”
He snorts out a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck and taking in theredecorationwe caused in the last few days.
“You most certainly are not.”
The door closes behind Atlas, and I grab onto the kitchen counter, trying to resist the insistently strobing idea my vengefulmind dictates.
Atlas doesn’t want his father to know about this place. Our place.
But if this is mine too now, then I’d like to invite Mason and Gabriel here. Or at least offer a twisted version of an invite.
I rush for the bedroom, which is now a forensic’s worst nightmare, in search of my bag.
Dragging it from under the bed, I take out my phone and pause. I sit there, naked on the cold wooden floor, clutching the device, as I keep asking myself if I can really pull this off without Atlas suspecting me. I’ll have to. I can’t lose him.
Opening the messaging app, I drop my location, but then I pause.
My thumb hovers over the screen long enough for me to try to justify myself. But not long enough for me to not realize how full of shit I am.
I press send with a whisper of “I’m sorry,” no one’s there to hear.
Confucius says you should dig two graves when you embark on a journey of vengeance. Before, I would’ve said I plan on neither being mine. Now... this text feels like one grave is for trust, the other for love, and I’m right there digging a third—my own.
Trent calls before the phone’s screen has turned black.
“Summer?”
“This place belongs to Atlas Holt. Mason doesn’t know about it. I’m sure you can use that information as a bargaining chip or whatever.”
The front door opens, and I’m scrambling to my feet and rushing into the bathroom before the drumbeat of my pulse gives me away.
“Forgot my phone,” Atlas shouts outside the room, but I hear his footsteps approaching.
