Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CALVIN
Atlas’s sons really don’t knock. That’s something we’ll have to keep in mind when I finally move all my things in.
Did I really just agree to move in with Atlas? We’ve known each other for…
Oh, fuck it. Knowing someone for years doesn’t mean you know them. I knew Mitchell from when we were kids and he turned out to be the worst thing to ever happen to me. Between his little mind games and finding out who he really was, I don’t think I knew him at all.
At least that part of my life is over. When I’ve properly mourned Shameka, I’ll never think about Mitchell again. He doesn’t deserve any part of my life, not even my past.
I bring Wylder’s cute boyfriend a cup of coffee, giving him a small smile.
His eyes roam over me, scanning me like an X-ray.
“You’re cute,” he says matter-of-factly.
“Kinda bruised up, though, huh?” My hand goes to my face, forgetting all about the damage Mitchell did last night, but he shakes his head. “On the inside. But you’ll be okay.”
My heart stutters at how easily he can read me, at how transparent I am.
But Wylder dispels that, making me feel like I still have a few secrets. “Mateo is perceptive. It comes in handy for his work. Not so much in casual conversation.”
Mateo says nothing, just flips Wylder the bird and gets back to whatever he was typing on one of his many laptops.
Wylder turns to me and grins, though his eyes are surprisingly void of any emotion. It’s disconcerting. Even with what Atlas does and how maniacal North is when he talks about murder, they both have some kind of emotion there—even if it’s murderous on North’s part. Wylder just looks… empty.
He holds his hand out, and I take it automatically. “Good to see you again. Though I wish it wasn’t with my dad ready to bend you over a counter.”
“Enough, Wylder,” Atlas says from the stove. “You and your brother have a key, but it would be nice if you fucking knocked.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Wylder waves him away.
Atlas turns from the stove and crosses his arms over his chest. “Why did you have to come so early?”
I startle, not realizing the time. I have to be at work in less than an hour, though I don’t expect to stay there long.
Almost as if I thought it into existence, my phone rings. I give Atlas a long look before I hurry to the room and scoop it up. I take a few deep breaths before I answer, trying to make sure I sound normal, clueless.
It’s tough, but I answer with a cheery, “Hello?”
My director of nursing sounds heavy, her voice filled with sadness. “Calvin, hi. Is there any way you can come into the hospital?”
I swallow past the lump in my throat, forcing myself to insert calm into my tone. “Yeah, my shift starts in an hour so—”
“No, come in your street clothes. It’s… I’ll see you shortly, yes?”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll be there in twenty.”
We hang up and I hold my phone against my chest, allowing a few tears to fall.
I saw her body last night, but hearing the news will make it more real.
My best friend is gone and she’s not coming back.
Mitchell fucking took her from me when she was innocent.
Her only crime was being friendly when I was new to town.
If I could go back in time, knowing where we’d end up, I wouldn’t have befriended her. At least she’d still be alive.
After giving myself just a few moments to grieve, I go to the bathroom and wash my face, not wanting Atlas to feel bad about what happened.
No such luck.
When I step back into the kitchen, he zeroes in on me, his eyes locking with mine. In three large steps, he’s in front of me, framing my face. “What is it, sweetheart? What happened?”
I hold up my phone and say, “That was my director. She wants me to come in now. I’m sure it’s to…
” I swallow back the tears, though a sneaky one streaks down my cheek.
Atlas wipes it gently, the soft touch threatening to undo me.
“She asked me to come in street clothes. So I’m sure she wants to tell me what happened last night. ”
“I’m so sorry. Let me drive you.”
“I wanna come too,” Mateo says, standing from the table. “You might need some backup.”
Wylder plants a large hand on his shoulder and pushes him back into the chair with little effort. “You have work to do. Besides, Dad can take care of Calvin.”
What could Mateo possibly do that Atlas can’t? I don’t ask, not at the risk of offending him. His eyes tell me he can handle shit, but backup? I’m not so sure.
Mateo glares at Wylder and my opinion of him changes in an instant. He has the glare of a killer—I’ve seen it on both North and Atlas. “Touch me again and you’ll lose that fucking hand.”
Wylder’s eyes spark in delight at the threat, and I have enough time to wonder if he likes it when Atlas interrupts with a sharp, “That’s enough.
” He doesn’t raise his voice, but the tone is completely different—deep, rough, commanding.
Silence falls across the room like he’d shouted.
“Calvin just lost his best friend. Your fucking antics are unnecessary.” He glares at both of them, then says, “We’ll be back soon.
Stay here and do whatever the fuck it is you do. ”
Atlas leads me into the room and helps me get dressed. My heart is too heavy to do much more than stand listlessly. I’ll have to put on the performance of a lifetime when I get to the hospital, so I give myself time now to sink deep into my grief for a little while.
Once I’m dressed, Atlas pulls me into his arms and kisses my forehead. “I’ll be with you, okay? You won’t be alone when she breaks the news. Don’t worry.”
“I’m not,” I answer honestly. “I’m just… drained. I want to lie around for the rest of the day when we get home. Is that okay?”
“Anything you want.” He kisses me one more time, then we head out, telling Wylder and Mateo we’ll be back soon. Mateo hardly looks up from his furious typing, and Wylder grunts as he flicks through the television channels.
The ride to my work is spent in tense silence, though Atlas holds my hand the entire way there.
I try to empty my mind, thinking about my love for Atlas, our future, what we plan to do as soon as all this is over—building parts of the house, getting a walk-in closet, making love all over my new home as long as my stepsons don’t barge in.
Yeah, no, that doesn’t sound right. In fact, that’s terrible and I don’t want to think about the fact that technically—if Atlas and I get married—I’ll have stepsons close to my age.
I breathe a laugh, shaking my head at the direction of my thoughts.
“What’s that about?” Atlas asks with a brief glance at me.
“Nothing. I was just thinking that when we get married, Wylder and North will be my stepsons.”
Atlas’s face turns radiant as he glances over at me. “When?”
I roll my eyes, but my chest feels light for the first time in an hour. “Yeah, well, you haven’t asked, so we’ll put a pin in that.”
Atlas hums, though his beaming smile doesn’t leave his face. It looks really good on him. I just wish we weren’t going through such a fucked-up time and it didn’t seem out of place.
When we pull up to the hospital, the buoyant feeling in my chest deflates as I see the crime-scene tape around the bench where Shameka was found.
With a kiss on the back of my hand, Atlas says, “We’ll get through it together, I promise.”
“Yeah,” I croak a half sob. “Together.”
While Atlas parks, I work to set my face into a relaxed mask. I have to pretend, I have to not know. I close my eyes and blow out a long breath, trying to collect myself. Atlas squeezes my hand once, and I look over at him.
“Lean on me, okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper, then give him a quick kiss before we get out of the car.
I tuck myself close to Atlas—not something new since we’ve been seen this way pretty much every day for a few weeks—keeping a bright smile on my face to hide my pain.
As soon as I step inside, the air feels heavy and all the nurses I see are wearing a somber expression. I fight to adopt a confused expression, hating that I have to pretend when my best friend is probably downstairs in the morgue.
One of the nurses, Autumn, sees me and bursts into tears, rushing to hug me. “I’m so sorry, Calvin. So sorry. She was so great and someone… I’m so sorry.”
Swallowing a hard lump trapped in my throat, I ask, “What? What happened?”
She looks at me, so nonplussed her sobs stop in their tracks. “Did… did no one tell you?” I shake my head slowly, wishing I could blurt out that I found my best friend’s body, that I know what happened and I killed the man who killed her. “Sweetie, I’m sorry, but Shameka… they found her body…”
My knees give out under me, a punch to the gut hearing the actual words. Tears stream down my face and I exhale roughly, feeling the full weight of my friend’s death.
Atlas holds me up, whispering platitudes while I cry for my friend, really grieving her loss.
From there, everything’s a blur and I don’t come back to myself until Atlas puts me in the car and buckles my seatbelt across my chest. He takes my face in his hands and wipes away my tears. “I’ll take care of you, sweetheart. Just hold on until we get home, okay?”
Yeah, that didn’t happen.
As soon as he pulled out of the hospital parking lot, the dam bursts and racking sobs have me curling in on myself. I turn toward the door and cry, not wanting comfort right now, needing to feel the pain of her loss.
Atlas must know I need space, so he’s silent, his hand on my thigh, but not trying to comfort me.
For a moment, I want to mourn alone; I want my tears to be an apology for Shameka being my friend and ending up where she did.
When I’m all cried out, I can get back to helping Atlas like he helped me, but for right now, I can’t think about anything but how Shameka looked so peaceful when I found her on that bench.
I hope, even though she was meeting her end, she knew how much I appreciated her and that I loved her more than words could ever express.
I’ll be sure to tell her at her funeral.
I’m still crying when we pull up to our house. Atlas puts the car in park, but makes no move to get out. I’m not sure if he’s giving me time to cry in peace, but I appreciate it nonetheless. I don’t want to share my grief with Wylder and Mateo. They seem great, but this is for me and Atlas.
My sobs turn to sniffles and I lean my head back against the headrest. Atlas hands me a napkin and I thank him, wiping my face and blowing my nose.
Smiling sadly, I look over at him. “I’m a mess.”
“Nah,” he says, taking the tissue from me and wiping under my eyes. “You’re gorgeous. It’s okay to cry for her. I’m sorry we couldn’t save her.”
I take his hand and bring it to my face, where he rests his open palm on my cheek. “It’s not your fault. It was Mitchell. And he’s dead because of it.”
Atlas sighs, rubbing his thumb over my cheek. “Let me get you to bed. You can rest for a few hours, hmm? Your director gave you the next week off.”
“Did she?” I honestly don’t even remember going to her office.
“Yeah. So we have a week for you to cry as much as you want.”
A week won’t be long enough, but it’s a start.
When we go inside, Atlas helps me to our room, only stopping when Wylder says, “Mateo found something, Dad.”
“Give me a minute,” Atlas says. “Let me get Calvin settled, yeah?”
He lays me on the bed, then removes my shoes and pants and tucks me under the blankets. I think he’s going to go to Wylder, but he takes off his own shoes and pants as well, sliding in beside me.
“Wylder needs—”
“He can wait,” Atlas interrupts. “We’ll have plenty of time to figure Keegan out. Right now, I need to take care of you, sweetheart. Come here. I’ll hold you so you can get some rest.”
A broken sob leaves my throat and I scoot closer to him, placing my head on his chest. His strong arms enfold me and I cry until my tears run dry.
Then I fall into a mentally exhausted sleep, knowing when I wake up, Atlas will be there, taking care of me.