Chapter 26
Maddie
She’s sprawled sideways across the crib, her little chest rising and falling in perfect rhythm.
It’s hard to believe that next week, she’ll turn one.
The time has flown by, much more so because I was trying so hard to hang on to Gray as he withered away.
My heart squeezes so hard with love for this little girl, I have to grip the doorjamb to steady myself.
I’m not her mother on paper, but looking at her, there isn’t a court in the world that could tell me I’m anything less. She’s mine in every way that matters.
And she’s Atlas’s too. I see it in the way he carries her, steady and sure, like she’s a natural extension of him.
The ease with which he transitioned from single professional athlete to doting father is astonishing, but in truth, it’s who he is at his core.
While our mutual love of Gray led us both to an agreement to raise Grayce, Atlas’s inherent ability to love sets him apart.
With me, it doesn’t come naturally, but I’m beginning to believe in it. At least with Grayce.
Loving her is effortless and unconditional. I never question if she’ll stay or if she’ll turn away. She’s an innocent, untouched by the world’s betrayals, and she trusts me with everything she has. That trust doesn’t scare me, it feels like a gift I’d bleed to protect.
I move to the crib and run a hand lightly across her soft hair. “Sweet dreams, baby girl.”
She doesn’t stir, continuing with her peaceful slumber.
I slip back out, pulling the door until the latch clicks quiet. I make short work of my nighttime ritual. I wash my face, brush my teeth, pull on pajamas. The motions are grounding, a nod to the rhythm that has become my new life.
By the time I slide under the covers, the house is wrapped in silence. Grayce’s white-noise machine hums through the monitor on my nightstand.
I should feel calm, if not content.
Instead, I stare at the ceiling, guilt gnawing holes in my chest.
A mere hour and a half ago, Atlas’s team won the second home game in the second round of the playoffs against the Detroit Cardinals.
I wasn’t there.
He asked me to come and I could tell it was important to him, but I just couldn’t do it. While I reconciled my guilt for leaving Grayce when I attended the first game, I can’t do it twice in one week.
Atlas nodded, said he understood and kissed me. I know what being in the arena means to him. I know what it would mean to be seen there, in the stands, cheering him on.
And still, he told me it was okay to not be there.
It was genuine and I believed him, but I still feel guilty.
The silence is broken by the front door unlocking.
The sound travels effortlessly over the hardwood floors and up the staircase, through my open bedroom door.
I left a lamp on in the living room, plenty of light for Atlas to find his way to his bedroom without bumping into furniture.
My breath jerks just at the thought of him being in the same house as me, a testament to how much I want the man.
I have no clue why he’s home. I assumed he’d go out with his teammates like we did night before last. If there’s ever a reason to celebrate, it’s tonight. I watched the game on TV, and the Titans are on fire.
My ears strain, listening to his footsteps across the living room where they should recede down the hall to his room. Instead, I hear the first gentle thump on the bottom stair.
Another step.
Heartbeat racing, I count each step and at the top, I expect him to turn right toward Grayce’s room. He’d want to check on her, of course.
Instead, they come my way and then his shadow looms in the open doorway. I hold still, hardly daring to breathe. He stands there a moment, peering at me through the shadows, and I can feel his indecision. I silently beg him to come closer and when he does, my mouth curves into an unbidden smile.
His silhouette is perfectly formed against the moonlight filtering in through slatted blinds, and I find it beautiful to watch him undress. Peeling away layers of clothing until he’s naked.
The mattress dips.
My breath jerks and I roll toward the sound, heart thudding, and then I smell him—clean soap and probably secret pheromones that make me want him so bad, I’m almost shaking with need.
He doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t ask. Just slips beneath the covers like he belongs here, big body radiating heat into the cool space of my bed.
“You’re supposed to be out celebrating,” I whisper, my voice rough from disuse.
“Didn’t want to,” he says, almost a growl as he pulls me closer.
I blink at him in the dimness, surprised. “Your team just went up two-nothing in the series.”
“Best part of the night was getting here.”
The words sit heavy in my chest. He says it so simply, no grand gesture, no fanfare. Just truth, and that woman who wants to be wanted… well, she accepts the joy it brings her even as she doubts it will always be this way.
His hand slides down my arm. His palm is warm, calloused and steady. I feels like an anchor and he tugs me closer until I’m flush against his chest.
The kiss is soft at first, but my pulse immediately kicks into overdrive. His mouth deepens on mine, his hand burrows into my hair, and I melt against him.
These aren’t the normal fireworks between us. It’s gentle and reverent, and somehow it seems more dangerous because of how safe it feels.
Atlas removes my clothes in between stolen kisses, each piece discarded like it never mattered. His hands map every inch of me, and I do the same to him. He’s all solid muscle and warm skin, all man.
We move together slowly, unhurried but inevitable. Our fingers lace, our breathing becomes heavy, and we submit to the rise and fall of the pleasure surging between us with whispered words.
When release finally comes, it’s not a sharp explosion but an opening of the floodgates that leaves me boneless against him. We collapse into the tangle of sheets and each other, and in the end, I am back in his arms where he holds me steady, safe and secure.
I don’t want to move. Don’t want to breathe wrong and break the spell.
“You good?” he asks, arm locking tight around me. It feels secure, a feeling I rarely experience.
“Better than good,” I murmur, the mellowness sweeping through me. There’s no thought to having him leave this bed.
Atlas chuckles, presses his lips to the top of my head.
“You played well tonight,” I murmur, tracing lazy circles over his ribs.
He huffs a laugh, chest rumbling under my cheek. “Missed an open shot in the second.”
“You still won.”
“Yeah.” A beat of silence, then softer, “But the best part was walking into this house. Knowing you and Grayce were here.”
My throat tightens, and tears threaten. His tone… it’s so sure. A confidence in his beliefs, and the need to have me hear them. The words are exactly what I’ve always wanted to hear, exactly what I’ve always feared believing.
“Atlas—”
He shifts, rolling enough that I have to look at him. His eyes, shadowed in the dim light, are steady. There’s no hesitation in him, never has been. He’s been the one who has been sure about everything.
“I love you, Maddie.” My breath catches, the world tilting precariously. “I don’t know how it happened, or even when, but I feel it, and I wanted you to know.”
“Oh,” I murmur, and I can’t tell if that’s shock or disappointment. I only know it doesn’t feel right.
Atlas presses on. “And I don’t mean I love you just in the way you care for Grayce. Not just because you’re holding this family together. I mean you. I want a relationship with you, for real. Not just co-parents. I want us to be a family.”
It should be joy ready to burst forth. This should be the fulfillment of every secret wish I’ve buried since I was a kid shuffling foster homes with a trash bag of clothes.
Instead, panic slams through me.
I go still. My heartbeat skitters, too fast, too fragile. He’s offering me the one thing I want most, and I only feel the walls rising.
Forever doesn’t stick. Not for me. Not ever.
The impenetrable belief that I will ultimately be abandoned causes nausea to rise. I’ve experienced that type of pain—over and over again—and I don’t want it ever again.
“You don’t love me,” I say bluntly. “You love what I do for Grayce. You love that I make it easier. You love fucking me. But you don’t love me.”
Atlas flinches, but he doesn’t argue. He merely reaffirms, “I. Love. You.”
I love you too, but I’ll never admit it. That’s going too far out on a limb, and I know it will crack.
“Atlas,” I say, trying to will some measure of calm into my voice.
“I don’t have the ability to give you what you want in return.
Surely you know that. I’m far too broken by my past to ever be secure in a relationship.
I’ll abandon you before you can abandon me, and so I’m going to do us both a favor and ask this to stop. ”
Silence presses in, thick as the dark. He exhales, slow and heavy, the sound of a man reining himself in.
“Okay.” His voice is quiet, steady, but it sounds like his soul is bleeding.
He leans in just enough to brush a kiss to my temple—gentle, reverent, devastating—and then rolls away. The mattress lifts, the warmth of him leaving with it. He gathers his clothes and silently walks out without looking back.
The room feels cavernous without him, and I curl on my side, feeling like my heart has been broken.
He offered me forever and I turned him away. Any pain I’m feeling right now is solely my doing, but at least I won’t hurt him worse down the road.