Chapter 17
Atlas
I’m lacing up my sneakers, mind already halfway to the arena where I’m going to meet the guys for a workout, when Maddie’s voice calls from the living room.
“Atlas—can I ask you something before you go?”
I step through the archway to find her on the rug with Grayce, who’s doing her determined crawl toward her stuffed lion. Maddie looks at me, her blue eyes serious.
“What’s up?” I say, leaning on the doorframe.
She bites her lip, a move that doesn’t make me think about kissing her at all.
“I was thinking about moving some things around in the kitchen. The spice rack is a nightmare, and the plates would make more sense in the cabinet by the dishwasher. But—” She hesitates, glancing toward the baby before finishing. “I don’t want to step on your toes.”
“Step on my toes?” I ask, confused.
She glances around. “Yeah. I mean, this is your house. I don’t want to make moves you won’t like.”
My chest tightens as I understand her concern. I fold my arms, steadying myself so I don’t cross the room and shake the doubt right out of her. “Maddie, it’s our house. You live here. You raise Grayce here. You don’t have to ask permission to move a damn plate.”
Her brows lift, surprised.
I soften, take a step closer. “Change whatever you want. Paint the cabinets pink if it makes you happy. This place isn’t mine for you to borrow. It’s your home too.”
Her throat works, eyes glassy, and she nods like she’s storing the words away someplace safe.
My eyes flick past her to Grayce and widen. “Maddie… look,” I whisper.
She turns.
Grayce grips the couch cushion, in a standing position like she was at the park. Her legs quiver, face scrunched in fierce determination as she glances at Maddie, then at me, as if she’s asking for permission. Maybe looking for support?
Before I can cheer her on, she lets go.
Once again, we hold our breath as she sways, and then… she takes one step.
Her arms flail, but her other leg moves forward. Another step.
Then a third step.
You can see the realization on her face that she’s done something monumental, and a sliver of shock passes through her eyes. I watch as she considers her options—go forward or fall down.
She takes another step.
Maddie and I cheer so loud, she startles, entire body jolting with eyes wide before plopping down on her butt. She stares at us, stunned by her own gravity.
“She walked!” Maddie’s shout cracks high, her hands flying to her mouth.
“She walked!” I shout, the words tearing out of me like a goal call.
Maddie starts clapping, hopping on her toes like she can’t hold the energy in. Grayce stares at her with round eyes.
I don’t even think—I grab Maddie by the waist and spin her once, both of us laughing too hard to breathe. When her feet hit the ground again, we’re still tangled close, her hands braced on my chest, my grip firm at her hips.
The laughter ebbs, but the closeness doesn’t. We’re nose to nose, breathless, hearts pounding with the same wild rhythm. Her eyes lock on mine, wide and shining, and the whole world shrinks to the air between us.
I don’t think. I move.
My mouth finds hers.
It’s soft for a second but then her lips part, and heat roars between us—hungry, desperate, like we’ve been waiting weeks instead of seconds. My hand fists in her hair, hers grip my arm, anchoring herself as much as me.
Grayce squeals, followed by a bubbling laugh, and we break apart. I glance to see our kid crawling for the stuffed lion again.
“What the hell was that?” Maddie blurts, and I turn to face her. My gaze goes between her and Grayce, who now looks up at us.
I don’t answer Maddie but go to our daughter and pick her up. I set her down in her bouncy chair, give her a teething ring, then turn to Maddie. I grab her hand and pull her to the hallway so Grayce doesn’t see or hear this. Not that she’d understand it.
Maddie pulls her hand away and spins on me. “I repeat… what the hell was that?”
I swipe a hand over my mouth, voice rough. “A kiss.”
“Yeah… a kiss.” She puts her hands on her hips. “You kissed me.”
“Yeah,” I say evenly, not willing to be the one at fault here. “And you kissed me back.”
Her cheeks flush hot. “That was—it was the excitement. Grayce walked. We were just caught up.”
I should let it go. Hell, I should walk away right now.
Instead, I take two steps and cover her mouth with mine again.
This time it doesn’t start soft. It’s volatile from the start, full of the truth I’ve been biting back.
She stiffens for a fraction of a second, then melts, kissing me back with equal fire.
When we break apart, we’re both breathing hard. Her fingers are curled in the front of my T-shirt like she forgot how to let go.
“This is…” Her voice cracks, breathless. “Atlas, this is a terrible idea.”
“Yeah,” I rasp, forehead dropping to hers. “The worst.”
A shaky laugh bursts out of her, half nerves, half admission. “We can’t.”
“Shouldn’t,” I correct, brushing my thumb along her jaw even as every nerve in me screams to kiss her again. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”
Her eyes search mine, wide and conflicted. I can see the fight in her, the logic battling want. She shakes her head, still clutching my shirt like it’s the only thing holding her upright.
“This can’t go anywhere,” she whispers.
“Maybe not,” I say, voice low, “but tell me you didn’t feel that.”
Silence. Her throat works, but no words come. Which is answer enough.
We step back at the same time, space flooding between us like cold water. For a moment, we stand there, staring, stunned at the line we’ve crossed.
Then she exhales hard and spins toward the kitchen. “I need coffee,” she mutters, like caffeine could drown out what just happened.
Fuck. I need a shot of bourbon.
I drag a hand through my hair, still tasting her on my lips.
?
The training facility smells like rubber mats, disinfectant and determination.
Lucky’s already there, headphones slung around his neck, racking weights with his usual efficiency.
Kace is sprawled on a mat, lazily tossing a fifty-pound medicine ball in the air and catching it like he doesn’t fear gravity.
“Look who finally decided to join the living,” Kace drawls, rolling his head sideways. “Thought you’d be too busy playing house to hit the gym.”
I grunt, dropping my bag with a thud. “Morning to you too.”
Lucky smirks, ever the calmer counterpoint. “Next playoff game’s in four days. No excuses.”
Kace pushes the ball from his chest, launches it into the air and catches it again. “Did you see Arizona swept Calgary? Four games. Done. Tacker Hall’s on fire—dude’s scoring like his opponents are all playing peewee.”
Lucky grunts as he lifts a plate to the barbell. “Western Conference is theirs to lose at this point. Pretty sure it will be us versus them in the final.”
I tug a resistance band off the wall. “They’re hot now, but it’s a long haul. Plenty of time to cool off.”
“Hot?” Kace snorts. “They’re scorching. Hall’s got, what, seven goals in four games? That’s not a heater, that’s arson.”
Lucky tips his chin. “Yeah… but we have Penn Fucking Navarro.”
He’s been the points leader all season and our strongest asset.
Kace chuckles. “And you have me in net, so we should all be feeling optimistic.”
I don’t knock his confidence. He’s more than stepped up to the plate and is playing so hot right now, I’m not sure Coach would put Drake back in net even if he were at a hundred percent.
All this bravado though irritates me since we still have an uphill battle. “Let’s not count our chickens before they’re hatched. None of this is a cake walk.”
“Look at Atlas,” Kace says, grinning. “Captain Serious over here, already writing the headlines. ‘Karolak Demands Optimal Performance. Joy Optional.’”
“Better than your headline,” I counter. “‘Kace Trips Over Blue Line Again, Fans Concerned.’”
Lucky barks out a laugh. “He’s not wrong.”
Kace snorts as he rolls to his feet, grabbing a towel to wipe his face. “Keep talking, Karolak. Bet you twenty bucks you can’t put one past me.”
“Big words for a guy who almost just dropped a medicine ball on his own head,” Lucky quips.
Kace points at him. “That was a bad grip.”
“Sure it was,” Lucky says, dry as dust.
Their banter bounces off the walls, easy and familiar, but I can’t lock in on it. My mind keeps sliding back to the living room, Maddie’s lips still ghosting my mouth.
Lucky narrows his eyes. “You’re quiet.”
“Too quiet,” Kace adds, squinting at me.
I loop the band around my hands, trying to focus on the stretch. I ignore their nosiness.
“Dude,” Lucky drawls. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” I mutter, focusing on the band pull, shoulders burning.
“Bullshit,” they say in unison, voices echoing.
I blow out a breath, the fight draining faster than I expected. “Fine. I kissed her.”
Kace’s jaw drops. “Wait—Maddie?”
“Yeah.”
Lucky whistles low, eyebrows shooting up. “Well, damn.”
Kace recovers, leaning forward, eyes gleaming with amusement. “I’m surprised it took this long. She’s hot.”
“Don’t,” I snap before I can think better of it. My tone has teeth, protective in a way I can’t hide.
Kace holds up his hands. “Easy, man. I’m not hitting on her. Just stating the obvious.”
Lucky folds his arms, calm but probing. “So why the long face? What’s the problem?”
I sigh, letting it all out. “Because it’s a bad idea.
We’re living together. Co-parenting. Grayce has already been through enough.
She doesn’t need to watch us screw this up.
Maddie’s never even been in a relationship, not really.
And me—” My voice drops, heavy. “I don’t know how to do this either. ”
The silence after feels heavy, punctuated only by the distant clank of weights from another room.
Then Lucky steps closer, steady as ever. “Is it lust or do you think there’s more?”
“More,” I say without hesitation.
Kace rubs a towel over the back of his neck. “And Maddie? What does she want?”
“I don’t know.” I shake my head. “It’s complicated.”
“Of course it’s complicated,” Lucky says evenly. “That doesn’t make it wrong.”
Kace grins. “You’ve got the chance at something good, man. My advice is don’t overthink it.”
My chest tightens. I want to argue, to shut it all down, but their words lodge deep. Because the truth is, I don’t want them to be wrong.
“Let’s work out,” I say, brushing the conversation aside. “Playoffs are what I want to focus on.”
They stare at me a moment, weighing the tone of my words and thankfully let it go.
I finish the set, sweat dripping down my spine, but my head’s not in the reps. It’s back in the living room with Maddie, her hands clutching my shirt like she didn’t want to let go.
And no matter how hard I push through the workout, one thought won’t stop.
Maybe we aren’t such a bad idea after all.