Page 25 of What’s Left of Us

Nat was quiet for a long moment.

“Which friend?”

“Chase.” I rolled my eyes. “What does that matter?”

“So, the cute one.” Nat waggled her brows. “If you ask me, I’d say it matters a lot. Obviously Atlas was jealous.”

“Nat—”

“Don’t worry,” she said mischievously. “I have an idea.”

“He wasn’t jealous. He was annoyed. There’s a difference.” When Nat leapt off my bed, I reached for her, catching her sleeve. “Nat! Don’t do anything dumb. You’re going to make it worse.”

She laughed and tried to run, but I yanked on her shirt. For just a second, the collar tugged down. That was all it took. I gasped, releasing her immediately. Nat quickly pulled her collar up, her laughter dying abruptly. Blush seared her neck and cheeks.

“Is that a bruise?” I asked, lowering my voice. “When…how did you get that?”

“Forget you saw it.” She swallowed, eyes darting away from me.

“Did Michael do that?” I demanded, raising my voice slightly.

“No. Now lower your voice.” She surged closer, teeth bared. “You didn’t see that, okay?”

This time, when her gaze moved away from me, I knew she wasn’t avoiding mine. She was checking the hallway. Making sure we were alone.

The realization settled in my gut like the heaviest of stones. I knew. I knew right in that moment who had given her the bruise. I’d had suspicions over the past couple months, but Dad had never touched me like that. Not hard enough to leave a mark. Seeing them, his fingerprints stained against her skin…

I needed to say something. I knew I had to convince Nat to tell Mom. Maybe, this would finally be the thing to make her leave. And if it wasn’t, maybe there was something the two of us could figure out.

There were so many things I should have said, but instead, I said nothing at all.

“Now, back to Atlas.” Nat cleared her throat, like she was trying not to cry. “You’ll have to trust me, Vi.”

“Okay,” I whispered. Because I didn’t know how to say the things that actually mattered.

That night, I was back in the Blake house for the first time in over a week. I didn’t know how Nat had arranged it, and I decided it was better not to ask. The less I made a deal out of this, the less it would hurt when Atlas inevitably told me he didn’t want to be friends anymore.

The four of us sat in the basement. Nat and Phoebe claimed the couch, their legs tangled together while they giggled over something on Phoebe’s phone. I laid across the carpet on my stomach, ankles crossed behind me. Atlas was on the oversized armchair, and aside from offering me his seat, he hadn’t spoken to me since I got here. He’d barely even looked at me.

I was working hard to do the same, to act as unaffected as he actually was.

Our movie was halfway over, and I was pretty sure I was the only one watching. It was a decent show, at least. Identical twin sisters had secretly swapped places, and their lives depended on them maintaining the ruse. We were at the part where the romantic lead was getting suspicious of his girlfriend when the movie suddenly stopped.

“Hey!” I shouted before I could remember to play it cool. I whipped around to glare at Phoebe. “Don’t pause it now! He’s about to⁠—”

“This requires popcorn,” she interrupted. She untangled from Nat and hopped up from the couch. Seconds later, they were both in the stairwell and out of sight. The door slammed behind them.

I scowled at the TV. The main girl and her twin’s boyfriend were frozen on the screen, their faces twisted in anger. They were going to kiss, I decided. Despite their anger and frustration, they were inevitably going to kiss.

Extra messy, since he now suspected she wasn’t his real girlfriend. Was she going to admit the truth? Kiss him to distract him? Neither or maybe⁠—

“They took the remote.”

I startled and looked at Atlas. He remained in the armchair, but he’d twisted away from the TV to face the couch. Another swivel, and he was facing me.

My mouth went dry. I should’ve known this was part of Nat’s plan. Extra humiliating, since that probably meant Phoebe was in on it, too. I assumed they’d be here the whole time and I wouldn’t have to talk to Atlas. Now that we were alone, I couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

“Do you like the movie?” I asked finally. My voice was rough, but it was the best I could do. I stared at the TV instead of Atlas, afraid I’d start to cry if I so much as looked at him. He ignored me for eight days, and now, he was acting like everything was normal.