9. ‘Rebel’
NINE
‘REBEL’
MYA
Watching the door close after Atlas walked out, I’m stunned and kind of out of it as I remove my clothes, step into the bath, and as soon as I take a whiff, I get why he smiled. The rose smells like me, but the musk is definitely all Atlas. Together the scent is the mixture of both of us together. A thought pops into my head. I don’t know why she left, but his ex-wife is fucking crazy to let this man and those boys go. Her loss is definitely my gain . And I’m not crazy or stupid. Then I lay my head back and let the water and scents do their job of relaxing me, when it suddenly hits me. Besides Taz and my club sisters, no one, and I mean no one, has ever taken care of me like he’s doing. My God, it should be him in this tub trying to wash off this day. But nope, Atlas is one of those men who will always put those he cares about first. Not saying he’s madly in love but it’s pretty obvious something is starting between the two of us. One thing we have to keep at the forefront is it’s not only the two of us, there are three boys who are also involved. I promise myself at this moment, in his tub, no matter how much I want this—and I do—if it starts to hurt any of the boys, I’ll walk. No matter how much it kills.
With my head back, I close my eyes and do what my bestie is always preaching. I try to do, shit, can’t remember what Taz calls them, but I try to relax and take deep breaths. I feel my body start to decompress and I kind of drift into a very comfortable zone between wakefulness and sleep. I don’t hear the soft knocking on the door or see the door opening with Atlas sticking his head in. The next thing I know, I’m smelling something fruity, like apples, with an outdoor scent like fresh-cut grass. Slowly opening my eyes, I see a steaming mug in front of me. I continue my venture, tilting my head and, yeah, there is Atlas with a cup of what smells like chamomile tea for me. I softly smile, leaning forward. I reach for the mug and take a drink. Aww.
“Wow, this is perfect, Atlas. Thank you.”
“My mom gets it from one of those New Age places, but I have to agree with you, it’s perfect. Okay, take another sip then let’s get you out of this tub, the water’s cooling off. Don’t want ya to get sick.”
I giggle, for Christ’s sake, he’s a doctor. That’s an old wives’ tale. He grabs my mug and holds out a huge towel. Oh no, not happening. I’ve not shaved or groomed my “girlie garden” in quite a while, as there was no need. Not how I want him to see all of me the first time.
“Nope, not happening. Put the towel on that stool thingy and get out. I’ll be down in a minute or two. Scoot.”
He tilts his head in that way he does when he’s, I’m guessing, analyzing the situation. I’ve seen him do the exact thing with the boys, so I wait. In this aspect we are different, and I don’t want to change that about him. He nods, places the towel down, and walks out, closing the door behind him. I waste no time getting to my knees then standing up awkwardly. Reaching for the towel, I wrap myself up and step out of the tub. Going to the sink, I grab the toothpaste and put a little on my finger to freshen up my mouth. I had put my hair in a messy bun so I leave it and open the door, walking into Atlas’s bedroom. Man, for a guy, it’s so nice and clean. I wonder if he has a cleaning lady. Looking around, I see on the corner of the made bed is a sweatshirt and shorts. I grab the top first and pull it on. I can’t believe how big it is because I’m not a tiny girl by any means. His shorts actually almost fit. I mean, he has that V-shape with huge shoulders narrowing down to that tight waist and hips. Love the smell of his clothes, they smell so fresh.
Going back in the bathroom, I rinse his tub, put the towel on the hook, and grab my chamomile tea and head down. When I turn toward where I think the kitchen would be, my nose picks up on some tantalizing scents. So the doctor can cook too. I wonder what he can’t do. Making my way into the kitchen, I see two plates on the counter filled with eggs, fruit, and toast, with a few different kinds of jelly in front of the plates, and finally a huge container of ketchup. That makes me want to fall in love with him. My club sisters give me so much shit for putting ketchup on my scrambled eggs.
“Hey, if you don’t use ketchup, no worries. All my boys do and I’ve even come to like it, to my surprise. Sit down. Let me get some more hot tea. Hand me your cup.”
As I watch him, it hits me how comfortable he is in the kitchen. Guess that happens with raising three kids on his own. When he picks up a mini strainer and pours the tea through it, I laugh. Of course, why would Atlas use a simple tea bag.
“Come on, cut me some slack, sweetheart. You know it tastes so much better than the crap you buy at the grocery store. Now let’s eat before it gets cold.”
And that is exactly what we do. I devour my food like I’ve been starved for a week. It’s so good and crap, it’s only eggs, fruit, and some toast with jelly. What totally blows me away is, at my age, he’s the first man to cook me breakfast or dinner or anything. The few men I’ve been with since turning twenty-one have been losers, each and every one. Taz is right, I shoot for that level of men because that’s what I think I deserve. Atlas is tilting my center, along with my way of thinking, and for some reason I like it. Again, with him, I feel a safety that never in my life have I felt. I reach for his hand and give it a squeeze.
“Thank you, Atlas. You have no idea how much this means to me. This is our first date and I’ll cherish it forever.”
“Aww, Rebel, sweetheart, you have no idea what’s coming your way. Now eat up, don’t know about you, but I’m dead on my feet.”
The conversation flows with an ease I can’t believe. When we finish, I tell Atlas to go take his shower and I’ll clean up. I can see he doesn’t like it but he concedes this time. He’s so tidy and organized that really all I have to do is put some things in the refrigerator and wipe the plates and dump them in the dishwasher. I wipe down the counters and turn the lights off. By the time I make it back to his bedroom, he’s already in bed asleep. My poor baby. My head snaps back, then I let the feeling of knowing, if I want, he could be my baby. What’s holding me back are the never-ending voices in my head telling me he can do better, that I’m scum, and if he finds out about my past life, he’ll leave me at the curb. Actually I’ve only shared bits and pieces with my club sisters with Taz knowing the most but not the entire history.
As soon as I get into bed, he moves so we are spooning and I can feel he has no pajama pants on. Oh shit. Then I feel his breath across my ear and cheek.
“Rebel, I’m a grown man who can manage his urges. I promised you our first time will be special, so relax and get some sleep, you have to be exhausted. This is one of those days that feels like it will never end. Night, sweetheart.”
With that he leans up on an elbow and kisses my cheek. The last thought I have is he’s like a furnace wrapped up all around me . And I like it so much. As I’m drifting, I wish his boys were here ’cause that would make this perfect. Maybe one day, if this works, we can be that family I’ve been searching for my entire life.
A horrific noise brings me out of a very deep sleep. My God, someone or something is screeching like they are being killed. I’m reaching out to see where I am and what the hell is going on so I can help the person. When I feel hands trying to hold me down, my past floods my memory and I pull back and let loose. All I hear is the sound of my fist hitting flesh until whoever is trying to put hands on me disappears. But a second later the hands are back, but this time there’s a voice associated with them. I know that voice, but can’t place it in my frazzled mind. It’s sexy as hell, though sounds to be in some kind of pain. Is that who was screaming? Then it hits me, that’s Atlas and I’m at his house. Oh shit, don’t tell me one of the boys is hurt. Pushing myself up, that’s when I hear a growl before, in a firm, strong male voice, the words finally penetrate my fog.
“STOP. GODDAMN IT, REBEL! Sweetheart, you are safe. Please hear my voice. It’s Atlas. Breathe in and out. Come on, just listen to my words. You can do this, in… hold… then out. That’s it, let’s do this together in—one, two, three, four, five, then out six, seven, eight, nine, and ten. Repeat. That’s my girl. Welcome back, beautiful, lie back and relax for a minute or two. I got to grab a towel before I bleed all over you and the bed. Damn, Rebel, you got some right there.”
He was fading in and out ’til his last sentence. Oh no, it was Atlas I was fighting. Son of a bitch, why can’t I keep my past where it belongs and not keep dragging it with me into every relationship? Not just romantic but every single interaction I have with people. I watch Atlas walk to his bathroom and, just as quickly, he returns holding a washcloth to his face with another one in his other hand. He sits next to me and starts to gently push my hair out of my face and, with a cool cloth, wipes down my face. When he shifts closer and places a gentle kiss to my lips, I lose it. I don’t know if I’m crying, giggling, or snorting. What I do know is, this episode must look like I’ve lost my ever-lovin’ mind. Doesn’t seem to bother Atlas as he puts both cloths on the edge of the blanket, pulling me up, and holding me carefully like I’m a precious piece of art. When he starts to rock back and forth, my body relaxes and I just let it go. In all of my life no one has ever taken the time to just be with me. Well, that’s not true, Taz has but I’ve never been totally honest with her. I figure if my past ever bursts into my present, she will have deniability. I’m realizing my mistake. Not telling her is leaving her vulnerable to outside sources. I can’t let that happen, not with Teddy and now Mickie. Even Enforcer, they are Taz’s heart. She’ll break if anything happens to them.
“Sweetheart, come back to me. Hey, doubt either of us is going to be able to fall back asleep. Let’s go downstairs and maybe have some tea or coffee. I’ve got that fancy as shit coffee maker down there; we can try to make one of those frou-frou coffee drinks. You up to it, Rebel?”
I reach for one of the cloths and wipe my eyes, face, and finally the snot from my nose. Damn it, this man is always seeing me at my worst. So why the hell is he working so hard to make this work between us? Being me, I just come out and ask the question.
“Atlas, why work so hard for this? Can’t you see I’m fucked up and damaged way beyond being fixed? You and your boys deserve only the best, and that’s for sure not me. Maybe we should just cut our losses and go our separate ways. Best for all of us.”
I drop my head because, honestly, this is my first real attempt to let others into my life and, more importantly, my heart. Konstantin already took a small part, along with Thanos. Stefanos is a harder nut to crack, but I’m not one to quit so have been trying to come up with something to chip away at him. And then there’s Atlas who, if I’m honest, is every woman’s dream guy. I mean, the prospects read all those books and even went to that Texas signing, so yeah, they’ve drawn me in too. They aren’t all the stupid boy meets girl and, snap, they live happily ever after. Some stories are truly life inspiring. Those authors are truly phenomenal in their craft. Even the one author, D.M. Earl, who happens to be writing about our club, though none of us knows who the person behind those books is. And their stories are so close to our lives it’s eerily scary. I feel for whomever it is because Shadow is going to tear them apart, limb by limb.
“Hey, Rebel, not so fast, sweetheart. We all are ‘fucked’ up in one way or another. Not sure what happened in your life to traumatize you to this extent and, believe me, as much as I want to know, not going to push you. When and if you’re ready, you’ll tell me. I will say you’re worth fighting for. My God, look what you’ve done for my boys in the little bit you’ve known them. Their own bitch of a mother hasn’t done a tenth of what you have. I mean, seriously, she signed her rights away. Who the hell does that, and what’s wrong with me? I not only dated her, I married and had kids with her. My radar’s batteries not only died but leaked out that white shit too. We all have damage, sweetheart, it’s how you move forward that truly matters. Now, come on, Fiesty Rebel, let’s go fuck up that coffee maker my mom said, ‘I just had to have.’”
I throw the washcloth to the side and grab his face, planting my lips on his in a hard, closed-mouth kiss. He holds on to me but gives me control, which I know to the depths of my soul is extremely hard for him. We kiss for who knows how long but no tongue or sexy shit. I’d probably even call it desperation kissing because at this moment, Atlas is my lifeline. A line I don’t want to lose or let my baggage mess with. When he gently nibbles my bottom lip and places a kiss on the tip of my nose, I smile. For such a masculine, alpha guy, he’s so gentle and caring too.
“All right, Atlas, let’s go downstairs. When we break that machine, do not tell your mother it was me. I have to make a good impression on both of your parents if I’m planning on sticking around.”
He jerks back for a second or two, his eyes taking in all that is me, then he snags me close, hanging on for dear life. Guess we both have those luggage bags full of past trauma. With my fingers crossed, I hope we can help each other carry them throughout our lives. Otherwise, this man is gonna wreck me.