Julian
Several Months Later
SPRINGTIME IN PORT ORFORD is beautiful; I much prefer it to the winter season. Only now that spring has sprung, I’ve been tasked with the laborious gardening jobs mentioned when I first arrived here at Chastain Castle.
The grass outside has begun to return to its lush green vitality, and the trees have new leaves. Of course, with it being a coastal port and all, it’s still very rainy and overcast most days, but the temperature is still warmer than it has been.
Humid and dreary is the best way to describe it.
I wipe the sweat from my forehead, looking at the pile of weeds I’ve collected as I’ve been tending to the yellow daffodils, colorful azaleas, and vibrant Rhododendrons that have begun to blossom in the back garden.
Even the hedges are turning green and plump in the rainy atmosphere.
I’m happy to do this, though. Tending to the gardens.
Even as he has no real reason to, almost as if he can’t break the habit, Atlas still frequents the cliffside almost daily. I’ll find him out here with his tea, watching the Southern Pacific with a content smile.
I think it’d make him happy to do so with so many bright flowers at his back.
I pull off my gloves, wiping my sweaty hands against my jeans. Even without the sun glaring down on me the way it would be in California this time of year, I still debate pulling my beater off. It’s so humid I could drown just standing here.
I need to put a pep in my step; I told Susie I’d give her a call before dinner, and now that my dad and I eat with the Chastain family, dinner is pushed up by two hours.
I’ll run out of time if I don’t hurry and finish with these weeds.
“Are you overheating, big guy?”
I turn just in time to see Atlas shut the back doors of the estate, my mouth watering immediately.
This man is always wearing the most tantalizing thing, so much so that I find it hard to concentrate when he’s around.
Today he’s wearing a pair of lavender shorts that reach a few inches above his knees and are tightened around his waist with a gold belt, his black loafers shiny and showing just a sliver of ruffled white socks.
His top, just like most days, is completely sheer and tight around his throat, becoming wide and flowy around his wrists.
He looks like a damn angel. Such a sweet little thing.
“Yeah,” I respond, swallowing thickly. “You could say that.”
I sure as hell am now.
Atlas walks toward me, and I notice the glass in his hands for the first time.
“Lemonade,” he says, following my line of sight. “Courtesy of Barfred, of course.”
Once he’s close enough, I take the glass in one hand, wrapping my arm around his waist and drawing him to me with the other. Atlas giggles, placing a hand on my chest.
“Thanks,” I tell him after taking a swig. “It’s sweet.”
“Mhm.” Big blue eyes stare up at me, expectant and sincere.
He’s always looking at me like this. Like I’m the center of his world; like I’m his knight in shining armor here to guide and protect him from the world.
Huh. I guess I am, aren’t I?
“Why are you grinning like that?” Atlas asks, narrowing his eyes as he grins even wider.
“Just thinking that I love you,” I lie, though it is true that I love him.
“Mhm,” he repeats. Then, he leans in and places a kiss on my lips, dipping his tongue into my mouth briefly. “You’re right. It is sweet.”
“Tease,” I chastise, but Atlas just laughs, pulling out of my arms as he looks around the garden.
“The flowers are coming in so nicely,” he observes, bending over to pet one of the azaleas. “It feels so bright out here.”
“I’m happy you like it,” I respond, taking another sip of my lemonade as I watch him take in the nature around us.
“Mm. Well, get back to work, then,” he says, making a shooing motion with his hand. “I’ll just be here.”
With that, he turns and walks toward the cliffside, plopping down in the chair his father placed out here a month ago, when he realized Atlas was still coming out here daily.
I observe him for a moment. The way the wind rustles his brown curls, how he draws his knees to his chest as he sits, and the way he smiles so contentedly, as if he’s the happiest man on earth.
And maybe he is. Maybe now that he’s free and he’s constantly showered with the love he deserves without guilt or reservation, he is the happiest man in the world.
But not for long. Nope, soon I will be the happiest man in the world, because this morning the doctor cleared me, saying that my ribs were completely healed.
And you know what that means: I finally get to fuck Atlas again.
I spend the majority of the rest of the day finishing the garden, then helping my father clear the shed. It leaves me exactly twenty minutes to talk to Susie as I shower before dinner.
She tells me about her newest fling now that she’s officially over Kimberly. I get all of the gory details of the night she spent with the girl and then hear about how she doesn’t plan on calling her back.
The irony is thick with this one.
Then the conversation moves to Landon, who’s been absent lately. Susie is worried about him, but he won’t answer my calls, so I have no clue what’s going on with him.
In fact, I still have to ask Barfred about his visit to California.
Susie and I talk for a while, and inevitably, just as it always does, the call shifts to Atlas and me. She loves talking about our relationship and hearing about how cute we are together.
“So you’re finally getting laid?” she asks, her tone full of humor.
“Yep. As much as I love blowjobs, I think I’m going crazy without actually fucking him,” I confide.
“Well, I think it’s cute that he put aside his own desires for your recovery. He must really love you.”
I roll my eyes, though she can’t see me, and begin slipping on my clothes for dinner. “Yeah, yeah. Of course you do. You’re an Atlas super fan.”
“Guilty.” She laughs. “Alright, I have to go. Let me know if you hear from Lan, okay? It’s driving me crazy that I never see him when I live with him.”
“Will do. Love you, Sue.”
We hang up, and I make my way downstairs for dinner.
I moved into the west tower with Atlas shortly after Dad and I were reinstated at Chastain Castle. At first, I would just sneak up there every night, but after a while, Abraham said he was tired of Atticus complaining about my tiptoeing around at all hours and that I should just move my things.
I was surprised by his leniency, considering Atlas is his youngest son, but happy to be accepted nonetheless.
Dinner goes by smoothly, just as it always does, with Abigail and me getting chastised by Theodora for playing with our food. I can’t help it; she’s a bad influence on me.
As everyone parts ways for the evening, I help Barfred gather the dishes. It’s not in my job description, but ever since I learned that he was the one to bring me back to life, I’ve felt strangely indebted to him.
I follow him into the kitchen, placing the plates in my arms into the sink. As I turn to help him with the rest, Barfred sighs aggressively, blocking my exit with his hip pressed to the island.
“You don’t need to help me,” he states.
“I know.” Shrugging, I give him a smile. “I just want to. You saved my—”
“Listen,” he interrupts. “I didn’t give you CPR because I’m a morally correct, god-fearing man. I did it because I know how much you mean to Atlas. You don’t have to waddle behind me like a baby chick, doing whatever you can to appease me. You don’t owe me shit.”
I take in his annoyed glare and his pursed lips, the way his posture screams I don’t trust you.
“Do you… Do you dislike me or something?” I ask him, cocking my head just slightly.
“What?” His cat-like eyes widen at my words, and he takes a step back.
“It’s just that you’re being kind of rude, and all I was trying to do was thank you for literally reviving me from the dead.”
Barfred watches me for a moment longer before he cracks, sighing as he rubs at the back of his neck.
“Sorry. I’m not trying to be a dick. Just… stop hovering, will you?” His voice sounds dejected, exhausted. As if he’s had enough.
“Sure, I’ll stop helping if it bothers you so much,” I tell him. “But can I ask you a question?”
Barfred rolls his eyes, leaning back against the island again. “Alright.”
“Have you heard from Landon lately?”
This seems to startle him. His posture straightens, and his fists tighten around the ledge of the counter. Those eyes narrow in on me, and he frowns.
“Why would I have any contact with him?” He spits the word out like it’s venomous.
“Because I can’t get in contact with him, and Susie hardly sees him. Plus, she said she saw you two together at a club in Cali a few months ago.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret them.
I should have left well enough alone. My life is going so well; I have a good job, a gorgeous boyfriend, and I live in a beautiful estate. Why am I sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong?
But Landon has been my best friend for years, and something is definitely going on here.
Barfred leans forward, so close his nose nearly brushes mine as he hisses out, “Mind your fucking business, Julian. Stop keeping tabs on me. I don’t know where your little friend is, and even if I did, he’s not yours to monitor, is he?”
“No,” I agree, staring back at him. “He’s not.”
I’m not scared of Barfred; I don’t believe he’d hit me. But he’s also not wrong. Landon is not my boyfriend or my family. He doesn’t have to update me on his whereabouts, and he comes around enough to show Susie he’s physically safe. That’s all we can ask for, really.
I take a step to the side, creating some distance between us. “Well, thanks again for bringing me back to life. I do appreciate it, whatever the reason. I’ll leave you be now.”
And with that, I leave the room.
I desperately want to know why Barfred was in California with Landon, and why Landon has suddenly shifted gears with Susie and me, but it’s not my business in the end. If he doesn’t want to tell, I can’t force him to.