Total pages in book: 176
Estimated words: 167257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 558(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 558(@300wpm)
I was stuck.
Atlas said I wasn’t worth falling in love with, and even though it stung more than I let on, she’d seen more of me in three weeks than most of the people who’d known me my entire life.
I guess that was why I wasn’t surprised when it was her face that I pictured the moment I began to even mildly entertain the idea of starting a family. The image of Atlas with my ring on her finger and a baby in her belly popped into my head with crystal-fucking-clarity.
It disappeared when I remembered she wasn’t even old enough to drink yet.
I highly doubted she was ready for that kind of commitment when I was nearly twice her age and struggling with the concept myself.
I wasn’t the type to half-ass things either.
It was the reason I’d hesitated pursuing her, knowing I’d develop tunnel vision, and nothing but an act of God could sway me. I was even starting to think that was what Atlas’s sudden presence in my life represented.
An act of God.
It had been two days since my failed attempt to take her on a date.
She hadn’t known my intentions, and I was grateful for it now. After the disaster of Friday night, I’d gone out of my way to avoid her, knowing I would only make things worse.
Initially, I’d only been trying to get her to bust it open for me, but then she tried to kill me and everything changed. I couldn’t stop replaying how she looked standing on that table, full of jealous rage, and wielding a golf club meant to end me.
It was the moment that I knew claiming her body wouldn’t be enough—would never be enough. I needed it all—her mind, heart, body…her fucking soul.
Fuck.
I was getting ahead of myself.
First, I had to figure out what she was up to before I did something irreversible like marry her immediately.
I was beginning to think Golden might have been on to something. Since I wasn’t the type to sit on my ass, I made use of my day off to drive to the only place I could think of to get answers. It had taken a few hours but—
“Your destination is on the right,” my GPS announced as I crept through the middle-class suburban neighborhood.
I turned it off and parked a few houses down before hopping out and pulling my ski mask over my head. It was just after midnight, so the street was quiet as I stuck to the shadows and ran to the modest blue and white house I’d spotted when I drove past.
It stuck out like a sore thumb among the other manicured lawns. The grass and small hedges separating the property lines were overgrown. The wilting flowers strategically planted to line the driveway on either side looked like someone might have loved them once, and the mailbox at the end of the drive overflowed with mail while more piled up on the front porch in front of the door.
I cut around the side of the house until I was in the backyard and tried the back door with no luck. Eventually, I found an unlocked window and hauled myself inside. Regaining my feet, I looked around and realized I was in the kitchen. A smaller stack of mail sat on the counter, so I crossed over to it and picked up the first envelope with my gloved hand.
It was an overdue hospital bill addressed to Kareena and Tyler Beck.
Atlas’s parents.
I set the mail back down and tiptoed deeper into the quiet house. The air was stale, with a thick layer of dust coating the furniture and picture frames I found hanging in the hallway.
It was obvious the house hadn’t been lived in for a while.
Nevertheless, I kept my steps light as I stopped in front of the first picture that caught my eye. It was Atlas. She had to be about six or seven and was beaming at the camera, showing off her missing tooth as she held up an award for perfect school attendance.
I moved around the house, studying every single picture I could find of her and watching her grow before my eyes into the young woman I’d met less than a month ago. Some of the memories were with her parents, but most of them were of Atlas solo.
It became clear to me by the last photo that she had been well-loved. Almost to the point of obsession—as if the Becks knew the precious gift they’d been given.
At some point, love stopped being enough, though.
It was evident in the most recent photo I found of her. She was wearing a burgundy and orange Ossella University T-shirt and standing by her car, hugging her mom. There were boxes in the back seat and a sad smile on her lips. Her father was noticeably missing from the photo, and judging by the angle of the shot, it was a selfie.