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“You can get back and check on Shiloh,” I say, burying my eyes in Atlas’ shoulder. “We do this all the time.”
He drapes an arm around my shoulder and pulls me in as close as these dingy plastic chairs will let him. “Then you could definitely use a person here to keep you company. Break up the monotony. I’ll talk to Loh tomorrow when the alcohol works its way out of his system.”
“I’m sorry. I said I didn’t want to come between you, and yet—“
“And yet nothing.“ Atlas slips his hand under my sleeve and drags his fingers over my bare skin. We stopped in at my apartment and grabbed a change of clothes on the way, and I wonder if he noticed the tee and sweats are ones he’s left at my place. I needed comfort more than I realized.
“You can’t keep taking all of this on yourself,” he says. “Your dad is a grown man and can clean up his own messes. Your brother… life hasn’t been easy but you’ve made it easier, and I don’t think he fully appreciates that. Have you ever asked him to help pay for his own meds? Has he ever offered?”
I shake my head. “I’ve just always done it. It’s not a burden I wanted to put on him. I want him to get through school, and I want him to be happy.”
Atlas shifts in his seat, and I lean back to meet his eyes.
“You pay toward his tuition every year, don’t you?”
I nod.
“You pay for his therapist. His bipolar meds. His hormones?”
I nod again. “I’ve always done all of that for him. When he was under Dad’s insurance most of the meds were covered. When that stopped, I just took over.”
He scrubs a hand over his eyes, and I see just how tired Atlas must be. The last few months haven’t been easy on him. Discovering yourself is a never-ending, exhausting process. You hit content moments, but then something new comes into your life and it’s like a whole other experience.
“Give some of that responsibility to him. I don’t know what he spends most of his defense class money on, but he can cover some of those monthly costs. You don’t need to run yourself ragged to keep him running.”
Atlas smiles at me like I’m that first star in the sky—the one they tell you to make a wish on. He grabs my hands and covers them with both of his, holding them in his lap.
“You need to make yourself a priority. Your body. Your heart. Your mental health. I want you to be okay. I hate…” His voice cracks, and he lowers his head as he blinks back tears. “I want to be your balm. But I need to know if I’m causing you more pain. If loving me is too hard, if it hurts too much—“
I slam my mouth over his, ripping my hands away to grip the back of his head. He gasps, and the hotness of his breath fills my lungs.
It’s like every ounce of frustration, sadness, and longing hit me all at once, and I pour all of those feelings into the kiss. It’s weeks of back and forth, years of repressing the things I want and need because I didn’t feel like I could ask for them. This is me asking. This is me taking.
And this is Atlas giving it to me tenfold. Opening up and letting me have whatever I need without reserve. It’s intoxicating. Overwhelming.
I love him so goddamn much.
Before I can say it, whisper it into his mouth so the words are trapped inside of him, Atlas pulls away. I follow his gaze as he looks off to the side, spotting Corvin standing at the entrance to the waiting room with a pinched brow and dripping apprehension.
“I have a bad feeling,” Atlas mumbles and rises to his feet. When I move to follow, he puts a hand on my chest, pushing me back into the seat, and drops a soft kiss to my mouth. “I’ll check it out. Wait here on your Dad.”
He jogs away, and my gut does half a dozen flip flops in the time it takes him to cross the room. Corvin and I have had a couple classes together over the years, and we RA’d in the same dorm my second year, so we’re at the least friendly with each other. Since he moved Shiloh into the dorms, we keep up with each other a little more via text, but we’re nowhere near close.
Taking a longer look, Corvin comes off worse for wear. There’s scrapes and bruises all along his legs and scuff marks on his cheeks. I think he even has the beginnings of a black eye.
Maybe I just need something to focus on other than Dad. Maybe my head wants to find a problem I can solve, someone else I can help. It’s like faulty wiring in my brain.
Wiring that sparks and short-circuits when Atlas drags a hand through his hair and glances at me over his shoulder. His eyes are wide, wet, and doused in worry.
I’m on my feet and across the room in seconds flat because the pounding of my heart against my ribcage is enough to crack the bones.
Shiloh drank too much again, didn’t he? He picked a fight with his RA and for all I know he’s getting kicked out of school? I don’t need that on my plate right now. I love him, I do, but I wish for once he would just—
“Blair.” Atlas’ arm comes around my waist and pulls me into his side. He drops his head to my shoulder, and I card a comforting hand through his hair.
“What’s going on?” I look up at Corvin, who has the most guilt-eaten expression. “Corvin? Is Shiloh okay?”
He opens his mouth but shuts it again with an aggravated grunt. “I don’t know.”
