Chapter 22
I checked my phone again for the umpteenth time, hoping for an update from Vaughn or a text from Atticus, but I knew neither would happen.
Vaughn had been very disappointed by my cowardice when I asked him to go to the hospital to be with Atticus, though he hadn’t said it.
The words had been unnecessary because the sadness in Vaughn’s expression had told me everything I needed to know.
As for Atticus, I still had his phone, so there was no way for him to text me, even if he wanted to.
And why should he? I’d proven myself to be unworthy of him in so many ways.
I’d failed to keep Atticus safe, and worse, I hadn’t kept the promises I’d made to him just a few weeks ago.
So much for my commitment to communication and honesty.
I’d used the fire as an excuse to resurrect old walls because it had been safer and less scary.
Telling Atticus I needed to remain at Silver Maple to answer questions and supervise the situation wasn’t a lie, but it was only half the truth.
Stand and deliver had been my motto for as long as I could remember, but I’d misplaced my priorities, choosing duty over his well-being.
And that was almost as unforgivable as telling Atticus I’d meet him at the hospital.
Atticus had known the truth; it shimmered in his sad eyes as he wept.
I’d tried to comfort him but had only smeared the soot and offered a half-baked promise.
I would see his heartbroken hazel eyes every night in my sleep, but damn it, Atticus lived to love again, even though it wouldn’t be me.
And with that depressing thought, I took myself to the kitchen to get a beer.
When I turned back to the living room, I saw Atticus’s influence everywhere.
His favorite flip-flops were next to the balcony door, waiting for him to slide into them and enjoy a glass of wine at sunset.
His current book was open and upside down on the coffee table, ready for him to pick up where he’d left off.
The throw blanket was still draped over the captain’s chair, where Atticus had flung it to sit on my lap, and later my—
I wouldn’t let myself go there. Tears and boners didn’t go well together.
Not that I’d actually cried…yet. That would come after I said the words we both knew were coming.
I wouldn’t suggest we stay friends because I couldn’t do friendship with Atticus.
He would move on and meet the love of his life, and I didn’t want a front- or even a second-row seat.
I didn’t even want to be in the same stadium or even the same city when it happened.
Hell, being on the same planet when Atticus fell in love and started a life with someone else was too much for me to take.
Then why the fuck aren’t you fighting for him, dumbass?
The question came out of nowhere, the voice once as familiar as my own.
Javi. He sounded so close that I spun around, expecting to find him standing in the apartment, but the room was empty.
For years, I’d tried to recall the sound of Javi’s voice, but I never could without replaying old videos on my phone.
I’d once read that it was my brain’s way of protecting me from trauma. Dissociative amnesia or something.
But my brain chose this exact moment to recall the playful derision Javi could inject into his voice when I was on the verge of doing something stupid.
I could even picture how he’d look if he were with me just then, arms crossed over his chest and shaking his head slowly.
Closing my eyes, I imagined what he’d say to me if he could.
Would he say he was proud of me for not giving up after he died?
Or maybe Javi would promise me that happier days lay ahead if I were brave enough to try.
He’d probably say he liked Atticus and would compliment my good taste. Or he’d say—
It’s about damn time.
My bark of laughter echoed through the silent room because that sounded more like the Javi I loved.
And damn it, I had loved him. I would’ve given my life for Javi’s, but fate hadn’t given me the opportunity to trade places.
Tears of misery burned my eyes and spilled down my face.
I’d lived three years in a hellish purgatory of my own choosing until Atticus came along and made me want to take chances.
I let my guard down and invited Atticus in.
And I got careless. I never should have taken anyone’s word that the fire detection, alert, and suppression systems had been properly maintained and inspected.
And what about that fucking door handle on the art supply closet?
Damn it. I should’ve insisted it get replaced after Atticus and I got trapped in there the first time.
That stupid temporary fix had nearly cost Atticus his life.
My chest hurt so badly that I had to set my beer down before I dropped it.
Was this a heart attack? Was that why I heard Javi’s voice so damn clearly in my head after all this time?
You’re an idiot, Ray. You’re having a fucking panic attack because you’re going to lose the best damn thing that’s happened to you since…forever.
Gritting my teeth against the pain, I pressed a hand to my chest. “Thanks, Jav,” I wheezed.
Box breathing, super stud. You know what to do.
I breathed in, held, breathed out, and held again for four seconds each. I felt a little better, but not good enough. I repeated the cycle until the trembling subsided. I opened my eyes, feeling centered and present.
“Thanks, Jav.”
Did I really want to return to the way things were before Atticus crashed into my life?
Could I really give up the laughter and kisses we shared?
Did I want to wake up to an empty bed in the morning?
Would sacrificing our happiness guarantee his safety?
The answer to all my questions was no, so why the hell was I moping around my apartment and allowing Atticus to believe we were over?
That’s exactly the signal I sent to him when I asked Vaughn to go to the hospital in my place.
He’d survived a fire only to have me stomp on his heart.
Maybe Atticus was truly better off without me.
Fuck that! It was my voice ringing through my head this time, and I sounded damn sure of my decision.
I reached for my keys just as music filtered into my apartment from somewhere.
The song was familiar, but my sluggish brain struggled to name it.
The music grew louder, and recognition kicked in like a jolt of electricity.
“In Your Eyes” by Peter Gabriel. The song got louder as if the music was getting closer to the building.
Was it coming from a moving vehicle? Who was jamming out to eighties love ballads outside my apartment?
And why did it have to be that song? An irrational hope bloomed in my heart as I moved to the wall of windows overlooking the property.
My breath caught in my throat when I saw Atticus standing on the lawn, holding a boom box over his head.
And he wasn’t alone. My faithful, ride-or-die guys stood nearby, wearing ridiculous grins on their faces as they stared up at my windows.
They couldn’t see me, I was certain, yet they knew I was there because the four of them waved for me to come out.
I ignored them and turned my attention to Atticus, who wore an oversized trench coat over a scrub top and the khaki cargo shorts he’d worn to work.
Where the hell had he gotten the coat and boom box?
The latter might’ve been in his storage unit, but it looked like a new version.
I knew I was right when Archer aimed something small in his hand toward the radio and turned the music down.
Fuck. Who’d given him the remote control?
“Get your ass out here!” Archer yelled. “Kitten has something he wants to say.”
I growled as I made my way to the sliding door and stepped onto the balcony. “I told you not to call him cutesy names.”
Archer shrugged and said, “And I told you not to fuck this up.”
He had. At least once a day since I brought Atticus home the first time.
“But I—”
Archer aimed the remote at the boom box, and the music went up a few notches.
Vaughn, Nico, and Ethan all swayed to the music and laughed as if this was the best thing they’d ever seen.
Ignoring them, I turned my full attention to Atticus.
They’d cleaned his face, but he looked pale and drawn, and that damn boom box looked heavy.
I noted a slight tremor in his arms and gestured for him to put it down, but he shook his head.
Archer aimed the remote at the boom box and turned the music down.
“There’s only one play here, Ray Ray. Don’t let us down.” Then he cranked the volume back up before I could respond.
I locked my gaze with Atticus and saw his determination.
He’d stand out there all night if he had to, but I wouldn’t do that to him.
Instead of ducking inside the apartment and exiting like a sane person would, I swung my legs over the side of the balcony, released the emergency stairs, and rode them down to the ground.
One grand gesture deserved another. Vaughn, Ethan, and Nico cheered loudly while Archer swooned with his hand over his heart.
I could’ve done without the audience when I ate crow, but fuck it.
Hazel eyes and a wide smile greeted me as I approached Atticus. His mouth moved, but I couldn’t hear a damn thing he said over the music.
Turning my head, I hollered, “Turn the music down!”
Instead of aiming the remote at the radio, Archer cupped his ear and mouthed, “What?”
“Turn the music down!”