Chapter 14
CHAPTER 14
NORA
Y ou know that feeling you get when you wake up somewhere unfamiliar?
That momentary burst of panic as you try to remember where you are and how you got there?
That feeling is completely absent as I blink myself awake in Atlas’s bed.
I take stock of my surroundings as I stretch my arms over my head and point my toes.
I’m cozy and well-rested, which is odd in and of itself.
But it begs the question— what woke me up?
Dappled sunlight filters in through the blinds, but it’s not overly bright.
There are no birds chirping or anything.
I’m not too hot or cold.
And after the feast Atlas and Ellis served up last night, I’m certainly not hungry.
I still can’t get over them cooking for me.
If anything, the only discomfort I’m experiencing at the moment is over how absolutely content I am in this cloud of a bed.
I’m not sure if it’s the mattress topper, the thick duvet, or Atlas’s scent clinging to all of it that settles me the most, but whatever it is—I love it.
I feel safe and secure, neither of which I’ve felt in years.
“Nora?” a masculine voice calls from the other side of the closed door.
The deep timbre of it sends shivers down my spine—the good kind.
“Yeah?” I say around a yawn.
“Can I come in?” Atlas asks.
I nod then immediately feel like an idiot since he can’t see me.
“Of course,” I call back, “it’s your room.”
The door swings open and Atlas steps into the room.
“We’ve been over this, Pip. While you’re here, it’s yours.”
“It doesn’t feel right.” I push against the mattress so I’m sitting all the way up.
“It feels like I’m pushing you out of your own space and?—”
“Nora.” Atlas is across the room and at the side of the bed in the blink of an eye.
“I know it’s hard, but I need you to let me take care of you.”
“Why?” I whisper, struggling to understand the reason he cares as much as he does.
Is it some kind of misplaced guilt over what his dad did to me, or is it something else entirely?
He lifts a hand, like maybe he’s going to reach for me, before letting it drop again.
“I know it doesn’t make sense, but I… It’s just something I need to do.”
“Like a compulsion?” I don’t know why I asked him that.
I’m not sure I really want to know the answer.
The thought of him thinking of me as some kind of obligation makes me feel about two inches tall.
It’s probably dumb, but I want us to be equals, because if life with Rand taught me anything, it’s that relationships—even friendships—with a power imbalance rarely work out.
And after being on my own for so long, I really want Atlas to be my friend.
“Sort of.” He shrugs his broad shoulders.
“But not in the way you’re thinking.”
I clutch the covers to my chest, uncertainty winding its way around my heart like thorny vines, pricking at me until tears fill my eyes.
“Can you explain it to me?”
“Nora, no, don’t cry.” Atlas reaches out and brushes his thumbs under my eyes.
“Please, Pip. Your tears kill me.”
Something inside of me short circuits when he tries to pull his hand away from my face, and before I can think better of it, I reach out and grab his wrist, holding his hand in place.
I feel kind of like I’m losing it, but at the same time, the thought of him no longer touching my cheek is almost unbearable.
What is wrong with me?
Atlas glances down at where my fingers circle around his wrist. “Talk to me, Nora. What’s going on?”
My cheeks heat as I ponder how to explain this to him without sounding a few cards shy of a full deck.
He’s always so careful around me, so how on earth do I tell him that his touch grounds me, that the feel of his skin against mine makes me feel safe?
How?
“I like it when you touch me,” I blurt out, my entire body heating in embarrassment.
“Wait, no. That’s not what I meant. I?—”
“What did you mean then?” He glances down at me, an amused smile playing on his lips as he brushes his thumb along the edge of my jaw.
I release my hold on him in favor of burying my face in my hands.
He probably thinks I’m some kind of stage-five clinger.
“Hey.” He peels my hands away from my face before cupping both of my cheeks.
It takes my all not to melt into a puddle of goo at the soft look on his face.
“Whatever you’re thinking, stop it.”
“I’m just humiliated because?—”
“Why?” he scoffs.
“Because you told me you liked it when I touched you? I’m fucking thrilled you told me. It’s been hell holding myself back every time I wanted to reach out and comfort you. But now I know you’re okay with it, because you spoke up and told me. Don’t you get it? You ask, I deliver. You want me to touch you, Nora?”
It takes me a second, but when I realize he’s waiting on a response, I nod.
“Good, because guess what, Pip”—he lowers himself down so that he’s sitting on the edge of the bed—“I definitely like touching you, too.”
Now my body feels hot for a totally different reason.
His deep voice combined with his kind eyes—yeah, I’m feeling things I’ve never really felt before.
Things I’m not even sure how to quantify.
Almost like every bit of blood in my body is rushing to the space between my legs.
I’m tingling all over, and I think I like it.
Which is wild.
I’m sure I’m just reading way into what he’s saying.
Way, way into it. He’s just being a nice guy.
Get a grip, Nora!
“It makes me feel safe,” I whisper, dragging my lower lip between my teeth as I look down at my lap.
“Like nothing can hurt me as long as you’re near.”
Acting braver than I feel, I peek up at Atlas from beneath my lashes.
Much to my surprise, a wide, victorious smile curls his lips.
“Do you know how fucking good it feels to hear you say that? Pip, I feel like I’m on top of the world knowing that my presence does that for you.” He places his hand on my knee over the top of the covers and squeezes once.
“Like Superman.”
“Would that make me your kryptonite?” I don’t know where the question comes from, but it’s out of my mouth before I can stop it.
What is it about this man that obliterates my filter?
“Yeah.” He drags his gaze up from his hand on my knee, over the length of my body, until we’re eye to eye.
Even with the blanket obscuring most of me from his view, his stare almost feels like a caress against my heated skin.
It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once.
“I think you just might be.”
Silence falls around us, but it’s not weird or uncomfortable.
It’s the welcoming kind of quiet.
As if drawn by a magnet, Atlas leans forward, until he’s crowding my space, and we’re breathing the same air.
My entire body freezes, but Atlas mistakes my sudden stiffness as fear and pulls back, standing from the bed.
But I wasn’t scared, not of him; no, I was frozen in anticipation because for a moment, for one stupid and glorious moment, I thought Atlas might kiss me.
And now, I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed that he didn’t.
Or maybe he wasn’t ever going to.
Maybe I misread the situation altogether.
God, why can’t I just be normal?
“I have to head to work now,” he says, freeing me from my internal pity party.
“Ellis does, too, so you’ll have the house to yourself.”
“Oh.” All of the good feelings swimming around inside of me vanish, my old friend anxiety swiftly taking their place.
“Okay.”
I knew he had work today, but now that it’s actually time for him to leave, I’m on edge.
The thought of being alone is terrifying.
At least at the motel, there were other patrons and the employees.
Here, though, I’m completely alone…
the only person for miles.
“I’m only working a half day today, so I won’t be gone long. The door will be locked and the cameras on. You’re perfectly safe, Pip.”
“Okay,” I say again when nothing better comes to mind.
I’ve spent the last few years with only my diary to keep me company.
What’s one more? At least here, I’m safe.
Here, I don’t have to worry about when I’ll eat next or whether or not I’ll end the day with broken ribs or a black eye.
“If you need anything—” Atlas pauses abruptly, spearing his fingers through his slightly-too-long hair.
“Shit. You don’t have a phone, and you definitely need one,” he rambles, pacing the length of the bed.
“We’re going to fix that today.”
The thought of him spending that kind of money on me has my belly flipping.
I can’t let him do that is the only thought in my brain as I kick off the covers and spring out of the bed, positioning myself directly in his path.
“You’re wearing my shirt,” he says, seemingly dumbstruck by the sight of me.
My cheeks heat under his scrutiny, but at least he’s moved on from the idea of buying me a phone.
“I am.” I dig my toes into the carpet as my entire body flushes.
His shirt is the only thing I’m wearing, and even worse, I didn’t ask first—like a heathen, I just helped myself.
“I-I hope that’s okay.”
Atlas drops his eyes to my mouth, pausing there before continuing his slow perusal.
“More than okay.” He licks his lips, and I swear I feel it between my legs.
What is wrong with me?
“Are you sure?” I don’t know why I’m pushing the issue.
He said it was fine, but for some reason, I can’t let it go.
“Promise.” He sways forward, tugging at the sleeve of the shirt.
“It looks way better on you than it ever did on me.”
My lips part on a shaky exhale.
My legs tremble and my heart races as my belly flips like I’m caught in a freaking spin-cycle, ‘round and ‘round, tumbling in circles as I try not to make a fool of myself in front of this man.
“Fuck, Nora.” Atlas sounds pained.
“You can’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” I ask, even though I’m pretty sure I know.
He pinches his eyes closed and balls his hands into fists, flexing his fingers until his knuckles flash white.
I know I shouldn’t, but I take a step closer, pressing my palm to his chest.
His eyes fly open at the contact, his breathing choppy, like each inhale hurts.
“Nora,” he croaks as he brings his hand up to cup my cheek.
The rough slide of his palm against my jaw nearly sends me to my knees.
“God, you’re so?—”
I lean into him, desperately waiting for him to finish his sentence, but he doesn’t.
Instead, he presses a soft kiss to my forehead and steps back, putting a respectable distance between us.
“Have a good day, Pip. And if you need me for any reason, you can use the echo in the kitchen to drop in on my phone. I left instructions on how to use it on the fridge.”
Atlas gives me one last lingering look and then he’s gone, leaving me to obsess over exactly what he was going to say.
I pass the time doing things I wasn’t allowed to do in Rand’s house, starting with an hour-long bubble bath.
If I thought the shower at the motel was luxurious, it’s got nothing on soaking in Atlas’s massive tub.
The bubbles I made using his soap are definitely a bonus.
Knowing that his scent will cling to me all day soothes something inside of me.
Once the water grows cold, I drain the tub, dry off, and dress in my threadbare leggings and a hoodie I find in Atlas’s closet.
I also pilfer a pair of his socks, since the only pair I brought with me is so riddled with holes they’re useless.
I make his bed and poke around his room a bit before finally giving in to my hunger, heading into the kitchen in search of food.
The pantry and fridge are both filled to the brim.
Honestly, the sheer number of choices is overwhelming.
With Rand, I was lucky to get scraps, and now, I’m looking at what feels like every food imaginable, and I’m allowed to eat any of it.
This is the kind of stuff I used to dream about when I was locked in the basement for days on end.
And now it’s my reality.
After much deliberation, I settle on a turkey sandwich with some chips before taking my plate into the living room to eat.
The remote taunts me from the coffee table as I tuck into my meal.
It’s been so long since I’ve watched TV.
But Atlas said to make myself at home, so surely, he meant this, too, right?
My fingers itch to grab the remote, to press the power button and find something to watch.
I used to love watching mindless reality shows.
“Just do it, Nora. Atlas said it was fine.”
Okay, well, he didn’t expressly say watching TV was okay, but he implied it.
“What’s the worst that could happen?” I reason, wondering exactly when I reached the point of talking to myself out loud.
I polish off the last of my sandwich—which was absolutely the best thing I’ve ever eaten—and then lean forward, swapping my plate for the remote.
At first, I just hold it, silently hyping myself up to turn it on.
“Be normal, Nora.” I rest my finger over the button.
“Just. Be. Normal.” I apply pressure and the screen blinks to life.
It takes me a minute or two of fumbling with the menus, but eventually, I get one of their recently watched shows playing.
It appears to be some kind of true crime thing—probably not the smartest choice—but I’m turning over a new leaf today.
I’m being brave, normal Nora today.
Not sad Nora or broken Nora, just everyday normal Nora.
At least I’m trying to be, anyway.
The show starts out fairly benign.
A missing girl and the frantic search to find her.
But things take a turn once her body is found in the woods, and before I know it, I’m sitting on the couch, clutching my knees to my chest, jumping at every little thing.
A small part of me wants to turn the show off, but I don’t.
I can’t. Even though I’m shaking like a leaf, the tragic mystery playing out on the screen has me completely enraptured.
This was definitely a bad idea.
“What was that?” The sound of tires crunching draws my attention away from the show.
My entire body tenses as I mute the show, listening closely while hoping it’s nothing more than my ears playing a trick on me.
A car door shuts outside.
Oh, God, someone’s here.
Maybe it’s Atlas. He said he was working a half day, but didn’t give a time.
But his truck is loud…
I would have heard the rumbling engine if it was him.
My already rapid heartbeat speeds up, thump-thump-thumping against my rib cage like it’s trying to break free.
Panic, fear, and paranoia press in on me from all angles, their oppressive weight leaving no room for logic.
“Nora,” a deep voice calls from outside, causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end.
He’s here. He found me.
I scramble off the couch right as the front door opens.
“Nora!” The voice shouts my name, but I’m already down the hall with no plans of stopping.
Get somewhere safe. Atlas.
Atlas is safe.
I sprint toward his room, throwing the door shut and locking it before hiding in the back of his closet.
You have to be quiet.
I slap my hands over my mouth, trying like hell not to make a sound.
Maybe he’ll give up.
Maybe he’ll?—
“Nora, where are you?”
My ears ring and my entire body trembles as visions of Rand busting down the door and dragging me back to his house flash through my mind.
I can’t go back there, I just can’t.
I won’t.
Silent sobs rack my body and tears blur my vision as I cradle my belly, waiting for the inevitable…