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“It’s Frosteson,” Atlas growled out.
Cord laughed as he stood and tossed me my phone. He gave Atlas a two-finger salute before he walked away.
Atlas spun toward me, eyes narrowed. “Why were you talking to him?”
I glanced up at him and lost my breath for a short moment. Droplets of water clung to his hair and his cheeks were flushed pink from what I assumed was a very hot shower. His black suit was back on, and I hated how fucking good he looked in one. The white dress shirt clung to his abs and it was hard not to let my gaze wander down to stare.
“Hey, Wy!” Atlas snapped his fingers in front of my face.
I sighed. “It doesn’t matter. Just leave it.”
“Fuck no. He’s the enemy,” Atlas said.
“To who?” I barked loudly, aware that the team was standing there waiting for us. “You? Because he isn’t my enemy. I’m not part of the Polar Storms anymore!” I stuffed my phone into my suit pocket and grabbed my crutches. Shoving them under my armpits, I pushed to my feet, ignoring the sharp spike of pain at the sudden movement. “I’m not one of you. All of you keep fucking reminding me every time you tell me I can’t come back this season. Somaybeit’s time to look at other options. If MCU wants me, they can have me.”
I ignored the rage that settled on Atlas’s face and walked away from him, the agony worse now that I was moving faster than usual.
The entire plane ride home was full of silence from Atlas. He still sat beside me, but he didn’t talk to me, and I was fine with that.
Yeah, I was completely lost.
21
ATLAS
My foot wantedto slam on the brake so bad, but I didn’t do it. I eased the car into the driveway in front of my house and tried not to glare at Wy. I still hadn’t spoken to him since I’d found him talking to that asshole McAvoy.
“Maybe it’s time to look at other options.”
Fuck. What was going through his head? He stared out the passenger-side window and only began to stir, gathering his crutches close, when I shut off the engine and killed the headlights.
“Do you need any help?” I asked, the words harsh leaving my mouth.
He didn’t say anything, only glared at me before shoving open his door. The exhaustion was clear on his face, but he glanced away from me and started turning in his seat. Fine, if this was how he wanted to play it, I could do the same thing. I got out and slammed my door. Elissa hadn’t gone to the game, and she came out to stand on the porch, frowning at me.
“Why aren’t you helping Wystan?” she called. Her eyebrows dove.
I shrugged at her as I went to get my gear and his bag out of the trunk. “I don’t know. Maybe you should ask him.”
Wy laughed. “Fuck you,At Last. Maybe I don’t need your goddamned help! You either,” he shouted at Elissa, who dropped her arms at her sides as if he’d shocked her.
I stepped around the car.
He spun toward me on his crutches, probably to say something else he thought was fucking witty, and wobbled.
I could see what was happening and dropped the bags, sprinting, but I was too late. He swore and fell to the ground, landing on his ass.
Elissa rushed down from the porch, and we got to him at the same time. I hit my knees, and he hissed, baring his teeth at me as he clutched the immobilizer on his injured leg, knuckles standing out white. His body went rigid.
“Shit. Are you okay?”
He shook his head, and all the bullshit that had been on his face earlier when he’d been talking to that asshole McAvoy was gone, and he looked scared and in pain.
Elissa’s mouth firmed up and she glared at Wy. “You’ve been awful.” She tugged his ear gently. “Just terrible about this recovery business.”
“Maybe not now?” I said, shaking my head.
“No, now.” Her voice quavered and she sucked in a deep breath. “Let’s get him back in the car because we’re going to the ER to get this checked.”
