Page 61 of What’s Left of Us

“Nothing I could do would make you hate me, but you did something good, and I punished you for it.” My chest clenches as I speak. I tighten my jaw, forbidding another tear from falling. Atlas starts to interrupt, but I press my fingers against his lips. “I have to say this. I need you to know I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. I’m the reason Nat ran away, not you. And I’m so sorry I⁠—”

“You are not.” He takes my face between both of his hands now and tilts his chin until our foreheads are touching. “It is not your fault. Nat was sick, Violet.”

“But I knew.” I close my eyes, holding him by his wrists. I’m not sure if I’m keeping him close or readying to push him away. “I knew she was sick, and I just let it happen. I let it get worse and worse. If I would have gone to my mom months earlier, she might have agreed to keep it from my dad. It might have⁠—”

“You were a kid.” His fingers tremble against my skin.

“So were you.” I’m holding him close, I decide, keeping his hands against my face. If I could, I’d pull him even closer. “So were you, and you did the right thing. As soon as you knew, you tried to fix it. Me? When I knew how bad it was, I went out with her. Got drunk because I…”

I trail off. I don’t remember why I got drunk. I’m not sure sixteen-year-old me would’ve had an answer either.

“I should have done a lot of things different.” I swallow and open my eyes. I’m not surprised to find Atlas already looking at me, but I am surprised that he’s crying. Quiet tears trail down his cheeks and to his chin. I release my hold on him to wipe them away. “I’m sorry, Atlas. I’m so⁠—”

“Please don’t.” He kisses me, soft and sweet. “Please don’t be angry at yourself. I’d rather you be angry at me than yourself.”

“I know.” I lower my hands to the collar of his T-shirt, and press my face against his shoulder. “But that’s not fair, Atlas.”

He doesn’t respond to that. We’re quiet for so long, I’m on the verge of falling back asleep.An epiphany like this, realizing I’d distorted my own reality, took a lot out of me. But there’s too much left to say, too many things I’ve kept buried.

“We never really talked after that day.” I’d broken up with him over text, and shortly after that, I blocked his number. Deleted all his emails without opening them. “I can’t imagine how horrible that was for you.”

When he swallows, I follow the movement in his throat.

“Tell me, Atlas,” I whisper. Beg. “Tell me how much I hurt you.”

When I look up, his lips twitch, somewhere between a frown and a grimace.

“It was the worst thing that ever happened to me,” he says, surprising me. I’d expected him to brush it off, to tell me it was fine—that he was fine. “I had no idea Nat would run. I thought she’d get help and get better. Once she disappeared and I lost you, I stopped sleeping, eating, functioning. And when I found out what your dad—what that piece of shit had been doing to your family for years—I hated myself. I hated that it happened, and that I never even knew.”

“We were good at hiding it,” I whisper. I feel his hurt through my entire body, pain radiating like a thick poison.

Atlas shifts, tucking my head tighter against his chest. His fingers gently tangle through my hair, and I feel the steady rhythm of his heart against mine.

“Do you know why I told your mom about Nat?” His movements don’t falter, but my breaths do.

“I assume because I went drinking with Nat.” I force myself to breathe again, to relax my tightened shoulders. “I promised you I wasn’t involved, and the very next night, you had to carry me to bed because I was too drunk to walk myself.”

He blows a breath through his teeth. He’s gripping me harder now, as if trying to keep me from disappearing.

“Why were you out there anyway?” I ask. Then, though I don’t want to, I admit, “I didn’t even remember that part. Nat told me the next day. She said you’d been outside when we got home.”

It’s several seconds before he responds. He rubs my back, up and down, along the length of my spine.

“She crashed into my garbage can,” he says. “I didn’t recognize her. The girl driving. But the sound woke me up. By the time I came outside, she and your sister were all but dragging you up the driveway. They were almost as gone as you were, Vi.”

He hugs me closer, rests his chin on the top of my head.

“Maybe I wasn’t thinking straight when I told your mom. Maybe I was acting out of fear and anger. All I knew was that those two girls had my whole world in their car, and they were fucking drunk. They could have killed you. If I didn’t do something, I was sure they would. All it would take was one car accident, and you’d be gone.” He’s stopped moving now, arms wrapped tightly around me. “I could handle you hating me, Violet. I couldn’t handle you dying. I just couldn’t.”

I snake my arms between us, creating just enough space to press my lips against his. He’s hesitant at first, or maybe surprised, but I’m too desperate to slow down. I kiss him with everything I have, trying to convey all the feelings I kept locked inside for too long, so deep I could pretend they didn’t exist.

I miss you.

I’m sorry.

I love you.

Love me back, even if I don’t deserve it.