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He handed her the milkshake. “Don’t want to forget this.”
She took it from him, a small smile curving the corners of her mouth.
Atlas held the door to the street open for them. The sun was low in the sky, a few clouds overhead making it a little cooler than when they’d entered the restaurant. She pulled Zoey’s jacket from her purse, stopping to slip her arms inside.
“I’m tired. Mr. Atlas, can you carry me?” Zoey asked.
“Sure.”
“I can—” Jasmine stopped. Does Zoey know? No. That would be crazy. She was just used to having her uncles around.
He shrugged. “I’d be happy to.”
Zoey lifted her arms to Atlas. He glanced at Jasmine as if asking permission. She nodded.
Seeing the small three-year-old in her father’s arms sent a shot of longing clamoring inside her chest. Zoey’s fingers threaded around his neck as she hung on tight. His big, broad frame wrapped protectively around her. A piece of Jasmine’s heart fused back together. She pulled out her phone and stepped behind them to snap a picture discreetly. Even if it all went to hell, Zoey could have at least one memory of her father holding her. Of being cherished by the man who was supposed to love and protect her.
But maybe Jasmine hadn’t screwed everything up after all. Maybe this would be the best thing to happen to them.
A tiny spark of hope ignited deep inside her soul. A flicker of light amidst the darkest corners hidden in a wall of thorns. Hope was dangerous. But for Zoey, she’d put it all on the line.
