I'm not really listening, I'm still imagining how good it must've felt when my girl drove that car up the ramp, knowing how much it was going to piss Atty off. It does sound like it made a lot of work for him, and to be fair, the risk of drawing suspicion is also a concern. I mean, I feel for the guy, I do. And itwasreckless. Maybe it's wrong, but…
I'm proud of her.
"…and how will it look to Ambrose's people?" I tune back in to what he's saying. "Even with a cover story, I couldn't make the whole incident disappear."
"Make it look like her car was stolen in some kind of college prank gone wrong?—"
"Yeah, of course that's the story," he interrupts. "But I shouldn't have had to invent one in the first place. It was stupid and it was careless and it could have ruined the entire plan.Shecould've ruined the entire plan."
I make a face and Atty shuts off the water to glare at me.
"What?" he barks.
I give an only slightly apologetic shrug. "Well, youdidlie to her."
"So you're saying this ismyfault."
"Mmmm."I mean… "Yeah, man. She took it to the extreme, but it sort of is."
I wait for the inevitable explosion, bracing for it, but it doesn't come.
Atticus turns to lean against the countertop, gripping it between his hands. His head falls heavy with a sigh.
"I know, man."
His voice is so low, I'm not sure if I've heard him right. Surely Atticus did not just admit that he was in the wrong?
I'm…I'm…I'm fucking speechless.
He hisses out a breath. "I can't seem to get anything right with her. I was finally making some progress and then I shot myself in the foot. But she's like—like this solid wall of resistance." He gestures with his hands, not looking at me as he speaks. "And no matter how much I fight against it, it's not even dented."
I purse my lips, not sure if he wants my input here or not, but I figure I should give it to him anyway. "Maybe…stop fighting the wall?"
He drops his hand and looks at me like I've said the dumbest thing he's ever heard.
"You know," I push on. "Like, have some trust in the wall? Be honestwith the wall. Beniceto the wall."
"Could you stop referring to Aurora like she's an inanimate object?"
I lift my hands up. "Hey, man, it's your analogy, not mine."
For a long moment, there's silence in the kitchen, and then his throat bobs.
"Is she ever going to forgive me?"
My chest pangs for him. "For this or for the, uh,otherincident?"
He sags.
"There was a moment tonight," he almost whispers, like the words are meant only for himself. "Where I thought she went off the edge of that bypass."
His voice cracks on the last word, and something in my chest cracks with it.
This isn’t the Atticus I know. This is an older version that’s been hiding underneath all that control and cold calculation for years.
It’s good to see him again.
“I don’t think I’ve ever felt so…”
