Chapter 3
ATLAS
The first mistake I made was telling my best friend what happened last night.
The second one was telling him about Kai.
My phone buzzes while I’m still in bed, sunlight streaming through my childhood bedroom window. I already know what Jordan’s going to say before I even open the messages. Our friendship has a predictable rhythm—I confess, he judges, he pushes me toward something reckless.
Jordan:
Wait, so this guy DELETED your confession? Like, completely?
Atlas:
Yeah. He said it wasn’t ethical to keep it without my full consent.
Jordan:
That’s actually kind of hot. A guy with principles. What’s he look like?
Atlas:
I don’t know. Tall. Dark hair. Thoughtful. He listens like it actually matters.
Jordan:
Okay, so he’s hot. And he’s into ethics. And he literally showed up for you when you were having a breakdown. Dude. That’s boyfriend material.
Atlas:
He lives in Pine Ridge. I live in Denver.
Jordan:
Not for long if you keep spiraling like this. Anyway, you need to hook up with him.
Atlas:
What? No. I just met him.
Jordan:
Exactly. You need a distraction. You need to forget about your problems for five seconds and just … feel good. Enjoy the company of a hot guy.
I stare at the phone, my stomach feeling all weird. Jordan’s not wrong—I do need a distraction. But using Kai would be a reckless. The way he looked at me last night. The way he protected my confession. The way his hand brushed mine when he gave me the memory stick.
He’s too nice for casual.
Atlas:
I don’t even know if he’s into men.
Jordan:
Only one way to find out. You’re hot, Atlas. Use it.
Seriously, you’re spiraling about your job, your debt, your whole life falling apart. Go flirt with the ethical historian and let him distract you with his oral skills.
Atlas:
That’s not how this works.
Jordan:
Dude, you’re catastrophizing. You need a distraction. A hot distraction. Go flirt with him. What’s the worst that could happen?
I put the phone down without responding.
Jordan means well, but he doesn’t understand.
This isn’t about needing a distraction. This is about the fact that Kai saw me at my absolute worst—completely undone, confessing my deepest shame—and didn’t turn away.
He protected me. He chose kindness when he could have chosen anything else.
That’s not something you use as a distraction.
That’s something you’re terrified of losing.
I’ve been holed up in my childhood bedroom for too long, staring at my phone and spiraling and avoiding the world downstairs. The coffee I grabbed before anyone else was up has gone cold on the nightstand. I need to move and stop replaying last night in my head on an endless loop.
I finally force myself up and head downstairs.
In the kitchen, my parents are eating cake for breakfast.
I stop in the kitchen doorway, watching my mother laugh at my father’s expression. “Don’t judge,” she says when she sees me. “Your father insisted. It’s celebration cake. And it’s sooo good.”
I grab a clean mug and fill it with fresh coffee and sit down. The cake is left over from yesterday’s party, the frosting now set but still sweet. It’s ridiculous and perfect, exactly like my parents.
“You seemed to be gone for a while at the party last night. Where did you disappear to?” Mom asks.
“I was chatting with Kai, the guy running the oral history project.”
It’s not a lie. Just incomplete. I don’t mention the recording, the panic, the way Kai sat beside me looking all hot while I fell apart.
Dad chews his cake. “Oh, Kai Grant? Nice guy. I’ve seen him around town. He’s been doing good work with the library. Very dedicated to what he does.”
Mom eats another bite of cake and then raises her empty fork, pointing it at me. ”You should go out with him.”
I laugh. “Whoa, there’s a big leap there.”
She looks at her cake like it has the solution to all of life’s problems. “I didn’t say you should marry the guy, but you could have some fun.”
“Mom!”
“What? Just because I’ve been married for forty years doesn’t mean I don’t know how the modern dating scene works. Keeping up with your brother’s life is a modern dating history lesson.”
I sigh. “That’s not how it works, Mom. Besides, he lives here. I live in Denver.”
My parents exchange a glance and I see the sadness in their eyes.
“We know, mijo,” Dad says. “We’re not trying to set you up. We just … we miss you. That’s all.”
“Your life is in Denver,” Mom adds, but her voice carries the weight of a question. “We understand that.”
I don’t have a good answer. My life in Denver is a lie. My job doesn’t exist. My apartment is gone. My money is gone. But I can’t tell them that. Not yet. Not while they’re looking at me like I’m someone who has it all figured out.
So I just eat cake and listen to them talk about the party, about people I grew up with, about the community I left behind. And I think about Kai, and about Jordan’s texts, and about the fact that I’m a disaster masquerading as a success story.
I push back from the table, suddenly restless. “I think I’m going to head into town for a bit. Maybe stop by the Bookshelf Café, browse their book section.”
Mom brightens. “Oh, that sounds nice. They just got a bunch of new memoirs in, according to Patricia. She was raving about them at the party last night.”
“Pick up a good one,” Dad adds, reaching for another slice of cake. “You always did love their fiction section.”
I grab my jacket and keys, grateful for the excuse to escape the weight of their concerned looks.
The Bookshelf Café smells like coffee and old paper. It’s such a comforting combination that no matter how hard I’ve tried, I haven’t been able to find it in any of the Denver independent coffee shops.
I browse the fiction section while holding a memoir about someone leaving their corporate job to find a meaningful life. It feels too on-the-nose, so I put it down and grab a few gay romance novels instead.
Before I can decide which one to commit to, David, one of the owners, appears beside me with a steaming mug. He’s mid-fifties, kind eyes, always wearing flannel shirts with a rainbow scarf around his neck. They never match, but somehow it works for his personality.
“On the house because it’s been a while since I’ve seen you here,” he says, pressing the coffee into my hands.
“Take a seat; take your time browsing. We just got a ton of new additions to the romance section.” He gestures toward the shelf I’m standing in front of with obvious pride.
“I’m completely addicted to romance novels.
My husband—Mark?—he’s all sci-fi. Spaceships and aliens and whatever.
But me? Give me a good love story any day. ”
I accept the coffee gratefully, and the warmth seeps into my palms. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“You came for their party, right?”
I nod.
“Your parents talk about you all the time. We’re glad you’re home.” He pats my shoulder once, then heads back toward the counter, leaving me with the coffee and an unexpected lump in my throat.
The mention of the party makes me think about the recording. About what I would say to my parents if I actually tried.
“Hey. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
I turn. Kai stands a few feet away holding a coffee in a takeout cup. He’s wearing a soft blue sweater and jeans that hug his long legs perfectly. Our eyes meet for a moment, and his smile is so warm and genuine, my heartbeat forgets its lines.
“I needed to get out of the house,” I say. “Thought I’d grab a coffee.”
“Mind if I join you?”
We move to a small table by the window. Sunlight streams across the surface, highlighting the steam rising from my coffee.
Kai admires the book on top of my small pile.
“That’s a good one. Have you read it?”
“Just picked it up. Trying to choose one.”
We start talking about books. I’m surprised by how much we have in common. We both love literary fiction with real emotional weight and gay romance. I guess that answers the question about whether he’s into men.
I mean, he could still be straight, but someone who reads gay romance wouldn’t punch me if I hit on him, right? Not that I’d do that, of course. Because of … reasons. Mostly proving Jordan right.
For the second time since I left Denver, I find myself relaxing. Kai is easy to talk to. He’s a great listener, like everything I say is important. He asks questions that show he’s actually thinking about what I’m saying, not just waiting for his turn to talk.
After about twenty minutes of book talk, Kai asks, “Have you given any more thought to recording a message for your parents?”
I set my coffee down carefully. “Yeah, I have. But I’m not sure what to say without blurting out my problems. And I don’t want to lie on record.”
“Those are the only two options?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. What else is there?”
“You could just … be honest. About what you’re grateful for.
About what they mean to you. You don’t have to tell them everything, but you can tell them the truth about how you feel.
” He pauses, his expression thoughtful. “I know it’s not my place to push.
But I think you’d feel better if you recorded a message from the heart. ”
“That sounds terrifying.”
“It is. But it’s also powerful.”
The way he says it makes me believe it. Like he knows from experience. Like he’s stood in the same place I’m standing now and found his way through.
“I’ll think about it,” I say, and I mean it.
Kai checks his phone, then looks back at me. His expression makes my pulse quicken.
“I’ve got a bunch of recordings I need to sort through for the archive.
Organize them, add metadata—that kind of thing.
It’s tedious work, but it needs to be done.
” He pauses. “I don’t suppose you’d want to help?
I could use another set of hands. And you might find it interesting—hearing the community’s stories. ”
I think about Jordan’s texts. About wasted opportunities. About the way Kai’s eyes crinkle when he smiles and his hands move when he talks about his work—with passion, with care. The way he’s looking at me right now—like he’s interested. Like he’s been interested since last night.
I think about my parents’ sad eyes at breakfast, the way Denver is falling apart, and my fear of reaching for the real thing.
“I … yeah, actually. I’d like that.”
“Great.” Kai smiles in a way that makes his eyes light up. “I’m at the library most afternoons. You could come by tomorrow? Around three? If you haven’t gone back to Denver, that is.”
“Tomorrow at three. Yeah, I can do that.”
“Perfect.”
There’s a moment where our eyes hold. Just a beat too long. Just enough to feel a shift. Like he’s flirting.
Or I’m reading this wrong.
But Kai’s expression suggests the former.
He stands up, and I admire the way his sweater fits him. The way his hair falls slightly into his eyes. The way he looks at me like I’m worth looking at.
“I should get back to the library. But I’m really glad I saw you here.”
“Me too.”
“See you tomorrow?”
“Absolutely. Yes.”
He leaves the café, and I watch him go. I’m aware of how that probably looks. I don’t care. My heart is racing. My hands are shaking slightly. My phone buzzes almost immediately.
Jordan:
Have you thought about what I said?
You know it’s a good idea.
I don’t respond. I’m thinking about tomorrow. I’m thinking about the way my body seems to relax around Kai. I’m thinking about maybe letting myself enjoy something.
Something real.
Something terrifying.
Something I’m not sure I’m ready for, but I’m going to show up for anyway.