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“Gabe said they lost their cool when you joined the navy, but that’s been what, fifteen years?” I moved on to straightening nearby racks of Victorian-style paper ornaments—delicate things that tended to get tangled. Each corner of the shop represented themes and holidays like Pride, Hanukkah, Kwanza, Solstice, and more.
“It’s complicated.” Atlas joined me, big fingers surprisingly deft at sorting the fragile ornaments. “At first, after high school, I didn’t have much purpose. Bounced around. Tried a little college, but it wasn’t until my folks went broke that Uncle Joe sat me down and talked about how the navy gave him structure and how I needed to get my act together.”
“Wait. Your folks went broke?” I turned to stare him down. “I thought your dad was some sort of trust-fund baby.”
“Emphasis on was.” Atlas kept right on working, not glancing my way. “They roared through the whole thing. Bad investments, too much traveling, too much spending. There wasn’t enough left for me. That much was made clear. Now they’re basically professional upper-class couch surfers who can’t see beyond the next house party and don’t bother to call. So I don’t either.”
“Wow.” I whistled low because that was a lot. And a lot that Atlas had triumphed over. “I’m proud of you.”
“For what?” He met my gaze, at last, peering closely down at me. My skin heated.
“For choosing yourself. During my own time as a professional couch surfer and perpetual college student, I met a lot of people trying to make toxic, dysfunctional situations work.” I spoke slowly, choosing my words carefully. I knew a thing or two about trying to please everyone but oneself. “You could have ended up like your parents or trying to make them happy, but you’ve built your own life. And from what Gabe says, you’re really good at the SEAL support thing.”
“I like to think I am. Get them in, get them out, get everyone home safely.” Placing a hand on my shoulder, he squeezed lightly. “And thank you. That means a lot, you not trying to tell me what a bad person I am for not keeping contact with my parents.”
“I was blessed with great parents. But I’ve also muddled along the last decade without them. Family is great, and I love mine, but life is too short to be miserable simply because you’re related to someone.”
“You’re really wise.” Atlas’s gaze turned warm and soft, eyes widening slightly.
Taking a huge risk, I leaned into his touch. He didn’t pull away, even when I turned more toward him. Instead, and most confoundingly, Atlas used his other hand to smooth my hair again. I held myself still, held my breath, hell, held my thoughts. I couldn’t so much as think because there was no way on earth Atlas was about to kiss—
“Everyone ready?” Gabe called out cheerily as he entered our section of the store. “We’re opening the doors!”
Atlas dropped his hand and stepped away, taking whatever moment that had been with him.
But it had been a moment. I was sure of it. Gabe opened the big glass double doors to admit a crowd of early Black Friday shoppers. The shop swirled with noise and happy chaos, but I took a last look at Atlas. Cheeks pink. Gaze anywhere but my direction. Could it be that he’d felt it too? A true holiday miracle if so, and I was determined to test that theory again as soon as possible.
Seven
ATLAS
“You’re a wrapping machine.” Zeb’s tone was warm and genuine from behind me. In my work, praise could be rare as time was at a premium and competence was simply assumed as the minimum standard. All day, despite the constant stream of customers, Zeb had found reason to praise me, and his words landed far differently from those of a superior officer. Made my stomach go soft and gushy and my skin feel a size too small, like my body and brain disagreed over how much to enjoy the compliments.
“I think I have new callouses from the scissors.” I quirked my mouth as I turned toward him. Victory: brain. I couldn’t get too used to praise for little tasks.
“Poor baby.” Zeb patted my stiff shoulder, a fleeting touch that seared me nonetheless. No longer jet-lagged, I’d had more than sufficient sleep, food, and hydration. I was running out of reasons why my senses kept insisting on taking notice of Zeb.
Hell, I’d woken up on top of the dude, painfully aroused and embarrassed both. I’d slept in all manner of strange locations without ever once migrating in my sleep. No one in their right mind would ever accuse me of being cuddly. Yet I kept having these strange urges to touch Zeb, even while awake. And those last few seconds before I’d fully woken up had been bliss, my arms full of Zeb and my body as relaxed as I could remember.
