Page 129 of These Wicked Hearts

“She was an addict. On and off. When she was sober, she was the best mom in the world.” He shakes his head. “When she wasn’t, it was horrible. She never did anything bad to me, but seeing her like that . . .” He shakes his head. “I still have nightmares.”

He breathes deep a couple of times, and I feel that thump in his chest speed up under my fingers. “Talk to me,” I whisper into his hair, pressing a kiss to his head and letting my lips linger. My thumb soothes across his pec. I slip my other arm around his large body, hugging him against me. I feel him shutting down. I watch him and can see him struggling. “Talk to me, Atlas.”

“It’s so bad,” he whispers.

“I’m here, okay. Talk to me.”

“I hate it. I hate seeing it. I see it all so clearly and it never stops.”

“I got you. I’m right here.”

He breathes deep a couple of times and nods. “She had Penn when I was five. I’m not sure who her father was. I don’t remember any men coming around at the time she was pregnant. I just remember her stomach getting bigger and bigger. She was sober during the pregnancy, and she got me so excited. I actually thought everything was going to change. She explained I was going to have a sister. I was so small it didn’t really register what that meant.” He takes a deep breath. “Then she had Penelope. Then she got bad again. She started using. I took care of Penn from the day she was born. I had her bassinet in my room most of the time. She got so many calls from school about me sleeping in classes.” He laughs with zero humor. “It was a miracle I passed any of them.”

“What happened?”

He takes a deep shuddering breath. “I was nine. I got home from school, and my mom was passed out on the couch.” He starts to breathe harder.

“It’s okay⁠—”

“I’m so fucking stupid,” he whispers. “So fucking stupid.”

“Hey, no you’re not.” I kiss him. “Talk to me. What happened?”

His fingers tighten around my hand. “Where we lived—” He shakes his head. “We lived in this trailer next to one of the county highways. I can’t, Gage. I just can’t.”

I hug him tightly to me, giving him whatever strength I can to get through this. “I’m not going anywhere, okay. I’m right here with you.”

He clutches onto me, shaking in my arms. “She’d gotten bad again after being sober for nearly a year. When I would come home from school she was usually passed out and I’d take Penn outside to play until she woke up. I came home and Penn was crying. My mother was too gone to hear her. So I decided to take her outside and play for a bit until our mom woke up. Everything was fine, and then I lost sight of her for a second.” He swallows, shaking his head. “I can’t.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” He cries against me as I grip his body to my chest. “I understand, okay. You don’t have to say it.”

He nods, settling a bit after a moment. “There were so many cops. It was chaos. I have few clear memories of my childhood, but that, seeing her like that.” He shakes his head. “I can’t ever get that out of my head. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

“What happened after?”

“The driver called the ambulance and cops. I was screaming so loud I couldn’t speak for a while after. The cops arrived and one came to me. I thought I was going to be arrested.” He snorts humorlessly. “I was in shock. My mother was still sleeping. I don’t know how with how loud I was screaming. They went inside and found her passed out. The trailer was disgusting, but I was so used to it didn’t bother me. They wanted to take me and I was so scared. I’d just seen my baby sister get hit by a car and I was screaming and they were trying to calm me down, but they were just grabbing at me. Everything was so loud. In my mind they were going to kill me too. I don’t know why I thought that. I wrenched away from one of them and grabbed my bike and pedaled as fast as I could.

“I cut through lawns and just pedaled until I was too tired and had to stop. I walked my bike through town and found the ice rink. I broke inside and hid there, sobbing for hours behind the bench.

“George and Millie found me. They were coming in to start lessons. They knew my mom. Well, everyone in town did. She had a reputation. They didn’t know what to do with me. George gave me a pair of skates and told me to get out there for hockey practice. I had no idea how to even skate, but I think I was just so numb I was moving on autopilot. It’s like my mind just shut down and tried to shield me. At that time, they still didn’t know what had happened. They just assumed that I’d run away.

“Cops came by hours later. They’d been searching for me. I don’t know how, but George convinced them to let me stay with them. They didn’t have kids of their own. They adopted me, and my mother went to prison. For life.”

“I’m so sorry.” I press my lips firmly into his hair, trying to hold him tight against me as if I can erase the bad memories with just the feel of my arms.

“That’s why I can’t see her.” He shakes his head. “I know that’s awful, but I can’t. At first out of fear, because it was my fault. I should have been more careful. But now I know our mother should have watched us. It’s just hard to hate her. It is. I want to sometimes, but she was a kid too. My mother got pregnant when she was sixteen and her family kicked her out of the house. Mix postpartum depression, isolation, and a brand-new screaming baby when you’re a baby yourself . . . yeah, I get it. She had no one, and the people who did come around didn’t offer help. They offered her an escape she became addicted to.”

“How do you know this?”

I feel him take a deep breath. “A few years after, she sent me a letter. It wasn’t long, but she was asking for forgiveness. That she missed me. She wanted to see me.”

“Would you ever visit her?”

Atlas is quiet for a moment. “It’s just been so long. I’m not ready for that yet. I don’t know if I will ever be. I have so much resentment.” It’s quiet for a moment but then he adds, “That day was so normal. I went to school, came home, took my sister out. All these decisions, all these things I’d done before. I had no idea where it would lead me.” He licks his bottom lip and shakes his head. “Now I wake up every day wondering if any of the decisions I make will lead me to another horrible thing that I’ll be responsible for. I second-guess everything.”

“Until you drink?”

He nods. “Drinking is the only way to numb it. To let go and be able to just fucking breathe.” He tips his head up at me. “When I was put on leave, my doctor prescribed me medication for the anxiety and my depression. I didn’t tell you that.”