Chapter 22 #3
“You have nothing to prove,” I replied before kissing him softly.
Easing my dick free, I lay on the bed beside Atticus and pulled him into my arms. “It’s the universe that has some explaining to do.
” Pressing my lips to his temple, I added, “And I have a lot of healing to do.” I couldn’t do it on my own.
Previous therapists might not have worked, but that didn’t mean none of them would.
I just needed to find the right fit. But living without fear and being the best version of myself was something I wanted, not just for Atticus, but for myself. “Can you be patient with me?”
“Yes,” Atticus said and kissed me. “But can you promise the same? My desire for independence is going to conflict with your need to keep me safe.”
“Yes, I will.” I stroked my hand up and down his back. “We deserve this happiness.” To admit as much felt like the biggest leap forward I’d taken in a very long time.
“We deserve each other,” Atticus said. “And something delicious to eat for dinner. Maybe some ice cream.”
“How does delivery sound?” The idea of leaving my apartment didn’t appeal to me.
Hell, I didn’t want to leave my bed, but bedside delivery wasn’t an option unless I wanted to involve the guys.
And fuck no. Those assholes probably wouldn’t leave.
I could put on a pair of pants long enough to meet the delivery driver downstairs.
“Perfect.”
A song started playing somewhere in the apartment. It took me a second to recognize the tune, and then I burst into laughter as Atticus tensed in my embrace. “‘Parents Just Don’t Understand’?” I asked when the music stopped as suddenly as it had started.
Groaning, Atticus plastered himself tighter against my body as if he were trying to burrow beneath my skin. “It’s the ringtone for my parents.”
“I figured that one out for myself.”
Atticus jerked and raised his head. “That’s my phone. I thought I’d lost it in the fire.”
I cupped his cheek and pulled him down for a kiss. “Angus had stolen it from the art room when he’d snuck in to smoke.” Christ, Atticus had almost died. The panic swelled in my chest, pushing against my rib cage. I would not give in to fear. I would not.
“Breathe,” Atticus whispered. “I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere.”
His phone rang again, and he huffed out a frustrated sigh. “Okay. Maybe I’m going downstairs to answer my phone, but I promise not to go any farther. And I’ll be right back.” By the time he stood up, the call had switched over to his voicemail.
I forced myself to sit up. “I’ll go with you to find my phone and order dinner. What sounds good?”
“Anything. And I have a feeling I’m going to need chocolate.”
The perfect restaurant came to mind. I could order a delicious steak dinner for two and a massive piece of chocolate cake to share.
Or would he want his own? The Fresh Prince started serenading us again before Atticus was halfway down the stairs.
Irritation lengthened his stride and straightened his spine, and Atticus caught the third call before it rolled over.
“Hi, Mom. Sorry, I—”
A discernible sob came from the other end of the connection.
I bolted out of bed and took the stairs as quickly as I could, coming to a stop next to Atticus, who scrunched up his face in concern as he tried to make out what she was saying.
I couldn’t distinguish individual words, just complete devastation.
She took a breath, and I heard the words “on the news” and “fire.”
“Oh no,” Atticus said. “Mom, I’m okay. I didn’t realize my name would get released, or I would’ve called you.
” More sounds came through the phone, but it sounded more like the wah-wah-wah sounds the teacher made on Charlie Brown.
“I’m fine. I promise. Did Aunt Ronni tell you about the fire?
” His hazel eyes went wide, and Atticus said, “Picture? What picture?”
I retrieved my phone from the counter to do a quick internet search, but it wasn’t necessary.
I had more than a dozen messages in the RAVEN group chat and knew the picture would be in there somewhere.
Sure enough, Archer shared a photo of me running out of the burning building with Atticus cradled in my arms. There was a link to an article touting my heroics, but I didn’t click on that nonsense.
Atticus had saved himself. I’d just come in at the end to give him an assist. I rolled my eyes and turned the phone around so he could see it.
Atticus waggled his eyebrows and licked his lips.
“Yes, Ray is very strong,” he told his mom. “And the bravest man I know.”
I rolled my eyes, and Atticus tweaked my nipple hard in retaliation.
“Dinner?” Atticus asked. “Um, well, we were about to order in and—”
The tone of voice changed on the other end of the connection, from worry to formidable.
“Yes, ma’am. Ray and I will be there in thirty minutes.” Atticus disconnected the call and stared down at his phone. “I’m in so much trouble. I might never hear the end of this.”
I bit back my laugh as I turned to go upstairs.
“Where are you going?” Atticus called out.
“Upstairs to shower. I didn’t make a good impression on your parents when we met. I want to change that.”
Atticus snorted. “You made a great impression on them. My mom couldn’t quit ogling you, and even my dad had given his approval.”
I stopped on the stairs and faced him. “Really?”
“Uh-huh.” Atticus started up the steps, stopping when he reached me. “And they’ll probably build a shrine in your honor now that you pulled me out of a burning building—”
I silenced him with a firm kiss. “I didn’t save you.”
“Oh yes, you did.”
“No. You got yourself out of the closet.”
“But you would’ve kicked down the door,” Atticus countered.
“I didn’t have to because you got it open.” Cocking my head to the side, I said, “How did you get it open?”
“I found a paint key under a shelving unit when I dropped to the ground to get fresher air. It’s still in my pants pocket, I think.”
Pulling Atticus in for a hug, I said, “I’m going to build a shrine around that damn paint key.”
A hand landed swiftly on my backside. “Better get moving. The quicker we assure my parents I’m alive, the faster we get back here and celebrate privately.”
“After we stop for chocolate cake,” I added as I hoisted Atticus into my arms.
Looping his arms around my neck, Atticus pressed his forehead to my cheek. “See, you are my hero.”