“A few celestial events come close.”
When I eased up on my elbow to look at him, I smoothed back my disheveled hair.
Atticus stroked my cheek. “You have sexy bedhead.”
“You certainly have a way with words, Atticus Rain.” I laughed softly and traced my finger around his nipple. “I never know what you’ll say next.”
Atticus had made an impression on me in the past few days. I wasn’t feeling well late one morning, so he left work to bring me chicken soup, warm bread, and a deck of cards. He also called Milly to come out, and she confirmed it was a bad case of indigestion. Her pills usually worked, but the baby had beenespecially active that day. Instead of going back to work, Atticus played cards with me all afternoon until I felt better.
More importantly, he had taken time from his busy schedule to bond with the pack. Yesterday he helped Tak finish up the chicken coop. He also felled a dead tree in the pasture and single-handedly moved it into the yard so Archer and Montana could chop it up for firewood. And earlier this evening, he joined us after tacos for movie night.
Atticus was a superb storyteller, and each time we had dinner with the pack or gathered, the others warmed up to him a little more.
Except for Salem.
He had been uncharacteristically aloof, always busy with work. But occasionally he would lock eyes with me, still waiting for my answer.
Atticus swept my hair back. “What troubles those blue eyes of yours?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing. You always saynothing. Have you dealt with what happened to you?”
“I’ve been dealing with it for months.”
His dark eyebrows arched. “Have you?”
I pushed myself to a sitting position. “Of course.”
“Humph.”
“Now you’re just goading me.”
He locked his fingers behind his head. “You’re pregnant, Joy. If you don’t talk about it, those emotions you’re bottling will eat you from the inside. Better you start the healing process now, before the baby comes.”
“What am I supposed to do when I have no memory of what happened?”
“Deal with the aftermath,” he pointed out. “Process your pain. Acknowledge it. Talk about it. Your wolves were cagedand suffered through terrible experiments, but they’ll deal with their trauma in their own time. You were kidnapped, violated, and impregnated. You were forced to leave behind your life and everything you built up to join a pack while in a fake relationship. I never see you angry about it. I never see you cry.”
“Of courseI’m mad.”
He flew up. “Thenshowme how mad you are, because I don’t believe you!”
A swell of anger rose up, and I struck his chest with my fists. “I’m furious! But I wasn’t allowed to talk about it. I have no one.” Tears blurred my vision.
He cupped my nape. “You have me.”
“I hate what they did to me—what they did to my wolves.” When I saw my clenched fists, I hugged him. “I’m sorry.”
He pulled me into a tight embrace. “I know you haven’t been able to speak about it because it was a secret, but youneedto. Not just about what happened but how it affected you. How it still affects you. Maybe you can’t remember it, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t change you.”
“What good does anger do?”
Atticus kissed my shoulder and eased back. He lifted my chin with the crook of his finger. “Joy, I don’t want a perfectly behaved woman. I know you want to move on, but if we’re to be together, we have to be honest with each other. If you can’t confide in me, find someone else you trust. You’re the type of person who never wants to burden others with your problems.”
“I’ve been nothingbuta burden to everyone.”
He wiped a rogue tear hovering on my lashes. “You deserve happiness, but no one can give that to you, especially if you’re not honest with yourself. Do you think I don’t know about pain? Instead of dealing with the aftermath, I let that rage take me to dark places—places you don’t belong. It’s okay to cry and mourn the loss of your life and who you once were. It’s also okay tofeel that anger because that’s the only way you’ll figure out how to deal with it. Now, tell me what’s been troubling you this evening.”
