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Atlas
Imanagedtoget a cab home. I stumbled through the front door, laughing because I almost fell. I threw my keys on the sofa table, but missed, laughing again.
That’s when I saw him. My laugh died on my lips. Ty sat on the couch in the living room, hands clenched in his lap, jaw tight. His right hand was bandaged heavily. We stared at each other a moment, his eyes taking me in as I closed the door behind me.
His brows rose. “Are you…drunk?”
I laughed again, this time without humor, struggling to get my shoes off before stumbling toward the couch opposite him and falling back into it.
“Maybe,” I slurred.
He gaped at me. “Damn. Have you ever been drunk?”
I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “I’m twenty-six years old, little brother, and I’m not a saint.”
His eyes narrowed as he looked me up and down. “Where’s Wren? I heard she lost her job at the grill. I wanted to talk to her.”
My heart sank. He wasn’t here for me. He was here for her. I looked away, the reminder that Wren had left stinging like a slap to the face.
“She’s not here right now.”
A crease formed between his brows. “As in, she’s not staying here tonight?”
I pressed my lips together. Nodded once.
Ty let out a long breath. “No wonder you look like shit.”
I didn’t argue. I felt like shit. “What are you doing here, Ty?” He was the one who decided to stay on the houseboat for a while. I didn’t expect to see him back home so soon.
He looked away. The only sound was the ticking of the clock. “John Williams died today.”
I sat straighter, some of my buzz dissipating as adrenaline shot through me. “How do you know?”
He still wouldn’t look at me, but his lips tightened. “I was there.”
It took my brain longer than it should have to process those words. “You went to see him?”
Ty nodded. “I’m still not sure why.” His good hand clutched at his knee, his nails digging into his jeans. “I hated that man. I still hate him. I just wanted to look him in the eyes and tell him that he didn’t win.”
I leaned my forearms on my knees, putting my head in my hands. “He’s really gone?”
“Good riddance,” Ty snapped.
Good riddance.
I looked up, staring at my little brother. Even though we weren’t sad about our father’s death, there was something off about it. We weren’t celebrating, but we also couldn’t pretend to be disappointed that a monster like that was gone.
“He was a sad bastard,” I said between clenched teeth.
Ty’s eyes were glassy and bloodshot. I hadn’t noticed before, but he looked like shit too. “I don’t want to talk about him anymore. I’m done. I just thought I should come by and let you know we were free of that monster for good.”
Free.Were we really free of him if his blood ran through our veins? I shoved a hand through my hair, taking in a deep breath. “Yeah, okay.” I nodded, agreeing to his terms even though I wasn’t convinced.
Something in his expression told me he wasn’t ready to confront everything our father was or what his memory had left us with. Which was fine. I was in no condition to be diving into such matters at the moment.
“Are you staying here tonight, then?” I asked, hopeful. It was embarrassing how much I hated being here alone. I always considered myself a loner, but the moment I was truly, utterly on my own, I’d felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of my body.
Ty frowned. “I wasn’t planning on it.” He gave me a pointed look. “I’m still pissed at you. Just because I’ve forgiven you doesn’t mean you didn’t do something wrong. You should’ve told me what you were doing so I had some time to fucking process it.”
