Page 23 of Westward

Because Atlas’s home wasn’t here. Somebody had hurt him, and we still didn’t know who it was. And he had so many decisions to make about his life. So many avenues he could take.

And I was afraid that I would be one of those paths that he could pass. Or worse, a path he didn’t even consider. But those thoughts paled in comparison to the ice that slid through my veins.

I would be okay.

I had to be.

We all knew this time was coming, as death reached for us all. But I don’t think I ever truly thought about what would happen after.

Who I would become when there was no one left to call my own.

So I pulled my gaze from Atlas and focused on the two wooden boxes that held parents’ ashes.

They were my family. My touchstone. My reason for being in Ashford Creek.

And they were gone. Forever. Together.

Once again, leaving me alone. A familiar feeling that I hated with every passing breath.

Chapter 6

ATLAS

Two weeks later

Thomas

When the hell are you coming back?

Benny

Don’t listen to him. Stay away. Stay far away.

Jacob

What the hell did you do, Benny?

Thomas

You really don’t want to know. But come back home, Atlas. Your babies need you.

Jacob

Please stop calling me his baby. It’s getting weird. Especially with the forced nap time.

I pinched the bridge of my nose as others in the team group chat joined in on the hilarity.

It had been two weeks since the funeral, and that meant my time in Ashford Creek was coming to a close. I didn’t want to leave. What the hell did that mean? Usually, when summer came, I spent as much time as I could with my family, and with most of the guys on this group chat. A few of my teammates had been traded over the years, and that meant unless we did our best to stay in contact, we tended to drift apart. Only seeing each other when we played against one another, at the All-Star game, or at an awards ceremony, didn’t preclude a good relationship. Yes, everyone was far more connected these days thanks to this lovely invention called the internet, but it wasn’t quite the same.

However, the guys in this group chat were all on our team. None of us had been traded yet, which was always a distinct possibility. The new season would be ramping up, there would be specialty placements, training, and of course, with the draft, there’d be a new age of babies on skates, trying to play with the big boys. Considering I had once been one of them, I couldn’t truly complain about that. I had been damn lucky that there had been a good set of veterans on the team when I had joined the Portland Gliders. I had spent my entire career with them, and while some of them hadn’t been too accommodating, the rest had been open arms and open books. They taught me how to be a professional hockey player. Because the limelight was on us. Yes, I might be slightly protected in this town because they protected me from the media storm, but it didn’t always last. And no matter what, I still had to deal with the small-town media storm.

Images of Lizzie and me with our heads bent to one another, speaking about everything and nothing, had already hit the Gazette. Not only had it been online, but they printed the damn thing. It was only a matter of time before I saw it all over Page Six in a larger news piece. My publicist and agent hadn’t caught on yet, but they would.

Because everybody wondered why Atlas Carter hadn’t settled down yet.

Me

Reynolds, how are the twins?