Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
NORA
I was half expecting the drive to Atlas’s house to be uncomfortable, but the second I climbed up into his behemoth of a truck and his scent wrapped around me, it was like a shot of dopamine straight to my heart.
As soon as I settled into the passenger seat, my limbs went limp and I practically melted against the butter-soft leather.
Atlas didn’t push me to talk, either, which I appreciated.
He just flipped on the radio and drove.
Now we’re about a minute out, and suddenly my nerves are back in full force.
“Do you think Ellis is going to be mad?” I ask, fidgeting in my seat.
He turns down the music and glances my way over the rim of his sunglasses.
“Mad about what?”
It seems like an obvious question to me.
What young, single guy wouldn’t be annoyed to have some random girl crashing at their place?
Especially one like me.
“About me staying there…”
Atlas sighs and instantly I worry that I’m right—that Ellis doesn’t want me there.
“I-I can find somewhere?—”
“You’re coming home, Pip. With me. Where I know you’ll be safe.”
“But…”
“He’s not mad.” He turns down their long driveway.
“Promise?” I hate how small my voice sounds.
I don’t want to be weak and fragile.
I want to be strong, an overcomer, a survivor.
But right now, I’m just a scared girl with too many problems and not enough resources.
You could let them help, my brain supplies, you reached out for a reason.
“I promise.” He throws the truck into park and pins me with a look.
“Wait here, okay?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to argue, because I know he’s going to come and help me down, but I swallow back the urge and nod.
I was stubborn on the way here and scraped my knee trying to climb in.
I could tell Atlas wasn’t impressed, but he didn’t say anything about it either.
It’s hard, though, letting myself be at someone’s mercy—even over something as simple as this.
But I need to try, otherwise I’ll live my whole life in fear, and I refuse to let Rand control me like that.
I want to be free of him in every way—physically, mentally, and emotionally.
Atlas swings my door open and extends a hand up to me.
It’s no big deal, I tell myself.
And to anyone else, it’s not.
But to me, it feels colossal.
I slide my hand into his, fully expecting his touch to make my skin crawl.
But instead, the rough slide of his calloused palm against mine makes my skin tingle and my belly go all fizzy.
There’s something about him that just sets me at ease.
“Down you go,” he murmurs, reaching up to brace my waist with his other hand as I step down.
It’s over as fast as it starts, but I swear, I can still feel the ghost of his touch even as he grabs my dingy little pillowcase from the back seat.
“I’ll get you a key made,” Atlas says as we head toward the house.
“That way you can come and go.”
My breath catches at the thought of having such freedom—not that I have anywhere to go.
But maybe one day…
I’m about to thank him when the sound of tires crunching on the driveway sends me into a panic.
I dive behind Atlas, plastering myself to his back as I clutch his shirt between my shaking fingers.
“Nora?” Atlas tries to turn to see me, but I move with him, unwilling and unable to release my hold on him.
“Don’t let him take me,” I plead, burying my face in the soft flannel.
“Shit,” he curses under his breath.
I can feel him gesturing something, but I can’t bring myself to look.
“Pip, breathe, it’s just Ellis.”
His words penetrate my fear, and I peel myself back just enough to look past him.
Sure enough, Ellis is standing in front of his Bronco, looking contrite.
Guilt swarms me like a hoard of angry bees, carrying shame on their stingers.
He shouldn’t feel bad just because I can’t react like a normal person.
“Such an idiot,” I mumble to myself, only Atlas hears me, and if the fire in his eyes is anything to go by, he didn’t like what he heard.
“I need you not only to listen to me, Nora, but to hear me, okay?”
He waits for my nod to continue.
“You are not an idiot. You are a fucking warrior who has gone through more than anyone should ever have to. You’ve survived unspeakable things. When so many would’ve given up, you. kept. going.”
Atlas steps toward me, almost like he wants to hug me.
It’s been so long since anyone’s hugged me, I almost wish he would.
But my entire body flinches away on instinct, which makes him take a step back, shooting me an apologetic look.
How is it that I’m mourning something I never even had?
“So, no, you’re not an idiot. You’ve experienced trauma, and you’re going to need time to heal. Give yourself some grace, yeah?”
“Sorry.” I sniffle, hating how out of control I feel.
For once, I’d just like to be normal instead of a cowering or crying mess.
“Let’s head inside.” He gestures for Ellis to come on, and together the three of us head inside.
“It’s not much, but it’s home.”
I take in the space and immediately scoff at his words.
What’s not much to him is everything to me.
Their cabin has an open floor plan that allows me to see the living room, dining room, and kitchen all at once.
Light floods the space, thanks to picture windows and a skylight.
The wood accents, mixed with leather couches and plush rugs, all just scream home .
“You can see where everything is out here. You’re welcome to anything in the kitchen, and the TV is one of those smart ones, so knock yourself out. Now let me show you to your room.”
Ellis starts to speak but Atlas sends him a withering glare, effectively silencing whatever he was about to say.
Atlas guides me down the hall, pointing out Ellis’s door before swinging open the one across from it.
“You’ll be staying in here. There’s a connected bathroom and?—”
He draws up short when he notices I’m frozen in the doorway.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, looking around the room and then back to me.
“This is your room.” His earthy scent hangs heavy in the room, wrapping around me like a warm blanket.
“It is.” He speaks the words slowly, drawing each one out.
“Don’t worry, though, you’ll have the space to yourself.”
Knowing that he doesn’t expect me to share the bed with him is a relief, and yet for some reason, I blurt out, “But where will you sleep?”
His lips twitch.
“You worried about me, Pip?”
I dip my chin and nod.
“Maybe a little.”
“I’ll be on the couch. It pulls out into a bed.”
I’m torn between guilt and excitement.
I feel bad he’s being displaced—even if it’s only temporarily—but I’m also so, so excited about sleeping in such a big, cozy-looking bed.
The cot Rand had for me was as hard as the floor, and the motel bed wasn’t much better.
But Atlas’s bed has to be a king, and it’s topped with loads of pillows and the fluffiest duvet I’ve ever seen.
It looks like heaven, really.
“I’m sure you’re overwhelmed, but I need to talk to you about something,” Atlas says, breaking my trance-like focus on his bed.
“What is it?” Nerves dance along my skin as I brace for whatever blow he’s about to deliver.
“Before I found you, I had Ellis go to my dad’s house for a welfare check. He found the place wrecked and…” He swallows hard.
“And the, um, basement. Anyway, he had to call it in, and he needs to talk to you about it all, officially.”
“Oh.” I pinch my eyes shut and force myself to breathe the same way Atlas did earlier.
Inhale, hold it, exhale.
Atlas doesn’t rush me; he just patiently waits while I get myself together.
I don’t know if reincarnation is real, but if it is, he must have been a saint in a past life, because the man is easily the most patient person I’ve ever known.
“Why does he need to question me? Am I in t-trouble?”
“No, Nora, no. Not at all. The things we found there were concerning enough for him to need to file a report, and since you lived there, he needs to ask you a few things about, well, all of it. He’s also going to ask if you want to press charges against my—” His throat works.
“Rand.”
“Okay.” I nod.
“I can do that. But—will you…stay with me? You know, while he asks his questions.”
Atlas flexes his hands at his sides, almost as if he’s trying to keep himself from reaching for me.
“I won’t leave your side.”
Back in the living room, Ellis is already seated in a comfy-looking recliner.
“You can take the couch or?—”
“Please sit with me.” I reach out and grab Atlas’s wrist before I can think better of it.
He glances down at where my hand is gripping him, and I swear I see a grin tugging at his lips.
“I told you I wouldn’t leave your side.”
I expect him to free himself from my hold once we’re seated, but instead he wriggles his wrist until he can slide my hand into his, curling his fingers around my palm.
We’re holding hands.
He’s. Holding. My. Hand.
It’s so totally innocent, and yet my heart is racing like I just ran the fastest mile.
I feel light and giddy, nervous and secure, hopeful and so very naive.
Get it together, Nora.
He’s holding your hand to be nice.
Honestly, I don’t care why he’s doing it.
I’ve been so starved of kind and positive touches that I can’t help but relish the way his warm skin feels against mine.
Ellis clears his throat, effectively bringing me back down to earth.
“Glad you’re here, Nora,” he says.
“Thank you for letting me stay. Atlas said you needed to ask me some questions.”
“I do, and I’m going to record our conversation—it’s standard protocol, but Nora, please know, you’re not in any trouble. You didn’t do anything wrong. Do you understand?”
I nod, because I do.
Sometimes my stupid brain gets the better of me and tricks me into thinking it’s my fault Rand hurt me, but Ellis is right.
I didn’t do anything wrong.
“Okay, great.” He slides out his phone and taps around on the screen before looking back toward me.
“Please state your full name, date of birth, address, and phone number.”
“Nora Leigh Morgan,” I say, followed by my birthdate.
“I’m, um, not sure what to say for my address. I guess I don’t really have one right now. Or a phone number. Sorry.”
Ellis nods like my answer is completely normal.
“No worries. How do you know Randall Wallace?”
“My mom, she married him.”
“And where is she now?”
Tears sting my eyes but I press on, knowing he’s not asking to be cruel.
“She’s dead.”
“How long ago did she pass?”
His questions seem endless— did I ever see Rand hurt my mother, did he hurt me, when did it start, how long, how often.
I answer every single one to the best of my ability, even the ones that hurt.
When did he first sexually assault you?
How far along are you?
Did he know about the baby?
Atlas looks as tormented as I feel by the time we finish, and I can’t help but feel bad for bringing all my issues to his doorstep.
But through it all, he never once let go of my hand.
He held onto me like he was my anchor, keeping me moored in place despite the rolling waves.
“I just have one last question,” Ellis says, leaning forward in his seat.
“Do you have any idea as to where Rand might be?”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t. I wish I did, but I don’t.”
“That’s okay. Thank you for talking to me. If I think of any other questions or need to follow up on anything, I’ll let you know.”
“Okay. Is…is that all?”
“One more thing,” Ellis says, ducking his head.
“If it’s all right with you, I’d like to photocopy your diary and also document any current injuries.”
“That’s, yeah, okay. Except I don’t have my diary.”
“Be right back,” Atlas murmurs, releasing my hand and standing from the couch.
He darts down the hall, returning seconds later with my diary in his hands.
He passes it to me, and I hug the worn leather book to my chest as though greeting a long, lost friend.
“I have so much to tell you,” I whisper to the pages, completely uncaring of how strange I may seem.
This diary has been my only friend for so long that these few days without it have been like torture.
“I have an app on my phone that I can scan the pages with so you don’t have to worry about me losing it or anything.”
“Thank you. Both of you.” I reluctantly pass my diary to Ellis, who sets it on the table beside his chair.
“If it’s okay, I think I’d like to lay down. Um. I mean, if you don’t mind. Sorry.” I trip over my words as old worries fight their way to the surface.
“Of course. Let me snap a few pics first and then you’re good to go.”
I stand and allow Ellis to document my black eyes, split eyebrow, healing ribs, along with a handful of mottled bruises on my legs.
By the time he’s finished, both he and Atlas are breathing hard.
For a split second, I worry they’re mad at me.
But I quickly realize they’re mad for me, not at me.
“Go rest, Pip. I’ll be right here if you need me.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice—I take off down the hall and dive into his bed.
It’s every bit as amazing as I thought it would be, and with Atlas’s scent all around me, I’m fast asleep before my head even hits the pillow.