The corner of his mouth ticked up in the barest hint of a smile. “How could you tell?”
I shrugged and settled in again, nuzzling my face against his chest. “Pure luck. And the fact that you seem to take on the responsibility for literally everything.”
“It’s second nature by now.” He cleared his throat, his words turning rough. “I take care of the people I care about.”
For a brief moment, I wondered if he counted Laurel and me in that group. After all, he’d moved us in to his home whenours had become unlivable, and that showed a level of care most people wouldn’t bother with.
“You do a great job of looking out for everyone else,” I said. “But who looks out for you?”
He didn’t answer, but his fingers stuttered to a stop against my back. That small reaction was enough to make me wonder, was there anyone? Had thereeverbeen anyone? Or had Atlas always been an island all on his own—the strong one people never thought to check on?
Something fierce and protective unfurled in my chest, a sudden, overwhelming urge to be that person for him—to watch his back the way he watched everyone else’s—slamming into me out of nowhere. I’d looked out for myself and Laurel for so long, never allowing another person close enough to enter that inner circle. I’d never even beentemptedbefore.
With Atlas, though, I was. And the magnitude of what that might mean scared the hell out of me.
It turnedout Atlas hadn’t meant that it was only that first night I wouldn’t be getting any sleep. It was the following night and the night after that and the night after that as well. I’d never been so sated in my life. But that meant I was also exhausted to my bones.
Which was why it came as no surprise that I woke up after the fourth night of riding the King of Dicks with a migraine that was impossible to ignore. Usually, if one developed during the day, I could catch it early enough so it didn’t make me bedridden. But all bets were off if one greeted me at dawn.
Every tiny movement sent a burst of pain through my head, throbbing in time with my heartbeat. After dressing in a pair ofscrubs, I grabbed my sunglasses from my bag and slid them on in deference to the blinding sun. It didn’t give a flying fuck about my migraine. The rays shot through the thin, white material of my curtains, illuminating the space like a solar flare.
Even brushing my teeth was painful, so I knew I wouldn’t be able to suffer through taming my hair. Instead, I pulled it back, grateful it was finally long enough for a low, stubby ponytail.
Voices drifted up as I slowly made my way downstairs, Atlas’s gruff tenor mixed with Laurel’s softer, snarkier replies.
“There’s a backlog on the materials for the cottage,” he said.
“So?”
“So, you and your mom are going to be here a while longer.” He didn’t sound upset at that, more cautious. Like he was trying to get a read on how she felt about it.
I rounded the corner into the kitchen in time to watch him pull something from his pocket and slide it across the island to her.
“Use this for whatever you want.”
She raised a brow and held up what looked an awful lot like a black credit card between two fingers. “Whatever I want?”
He grunted. “Within reason. I better not see a new car on the statement. But you can use it to buy shit for your room. You know, so it feels like home or whatever.”
“Do I have a limit?”
“Do you need one?”
Laurel hummed, tipping her head to the side. “Probably not?”
“Am I supposed to feel reassured when that came out like a question?”
“So, no car. How about a motorcycle?”
“No.”
“A scooter?”
“No.”
“So just a pony, then.”
“Do Ineedto give you a limit, kid?”
