I stayed behind him, keeping most of his weight as his feet dragged across the floor, though the longer he moved, the stronger he seemed to get. His steps became more sure, and by the time he got to the bed, he was holding his own.
The bedroom was even darker, and now, he was nothing more than a shadow.
“Can I get the light?”
“Yeah,” he said. Something in his tone sounded…strange. Maybehewas the mass murderer who’d try to take advantage of the shoddy door protection. “If you don’t mind?”
I didn’t. I wanted to see him. I needed to confirm in my head that the universe wasn’t completely fucking with me, so I walked to the wall and flipped on the light.
And then I damn near passed out, because yeah.
It was fucking with me.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, with his legs spread and his robe almost showing me his dick again, was Atlas.
Eight
ATLAS
Nothing was moremortifying than jerking myself paralyzed. Except, I suppose, having the neighbor hear me fall and then be the only one who could get to me. My phone was across the room, and try as I might, I couldn’t get my legs under me enough to crawl to it.
I knew all I had to do was stand, and my nerves would start to wake up, but the trip had taken everything out of me. My arms were technically fine, but I couldn’t seem to get a good grip on the floor, so I just lay there, waiting for feeling to return.
And then there had been a knock.
And a conversation with a stranger whose voice sounded so painfully familiar I almost choked on my own tongue.
Then the door had opened, and something about this man, this hero who claimed to once be an EMT, made the world feel right again. And I knew right then I was on the precipice of something important. Something that would shake me to my core.
When the light came on, every hidden memory of the worst night of my life came rushing back. It was him. He was missing his aviator glasses and the EMT T-shirt, and his hair was longer, and he looked more tired and thin.
But it was him.
Ryan, he’d said, and I knew the moment his name tumbled off his lips that the universe was getting involved.
Unable to speak, I stared at him for so long he started to fidget. His mouth opened, then shut, then opened again. His brows danced up and down on his forehead, his fingers twitching at his sides. For a moment, it looked like he might start pacing, but his feet appeared as glued to the floor as I was to this bed.
Finally, I managed to clear my throat, and that shook something inside of him because he blinked rapidly, then began to look around the room, face frantic.
“Atlas,” he whispered.
God, he knew my name. In retrospect, that wasn’t so much of a surprise. He’d heard me sing at the bar right before my accident, so he knew exactly who I was. But it still felt like…kismet. God save me from that word, but there were no other ones that fit.
Swallowing heavily, I licked my lips, then shrugged. “You saved me again.”
“I—ohgod,” Ryan said. He looked terrified as he rushed forward and dropped to his knees. A hundred dirty thoughts raced through my mind at the sight of him there at my feet. “You’re—are you hurt?” His eyes went wide. “You’re walking!”
I realized he hadn’t known the outcome of the accident—just that I’d been unable to feel my legs when he was transporting me to the hospital. It took an absurd amount of concentration and strength, but I lifted my left foot into the air and wiggled it. “I’m walking.”
He laughed, his eyes bright as he reached for my ankle. I braced myself for his touch, but before he made contact, he dropped his hand again, almost like my leg was made of hotsteel. “That’s amazing. That’s…wow. I don’t even know what to say.”
“You get some credit,” I told him.
He rolled his eyes. “Atlas?—”
God, the way he said my name. I closed my eyes in a slow blink. “I mean it. You got me stable, even after having to twist my body around to get me out of that fucking car. The surgeon was very impressed.”
At least, I think he was impressed. The memories were so foggy for those first long weeks of recovery that most of them felt like a fever dream.
