“What about you and your family? We’re putting you at risk by staying here.”
“If we feel our lives are threatened, we’ll resort to staying down here, too. Right now, I need to discuss the situation with Ambrosia. I’ll make sure to do that in the morning.”
Realistically, Atlas is right. There’s not much we can do and nowhere to go without the Angelics. When had I become so distrusting?
“Is everything alright?” says Ezra, who joins us in the entertainment room.
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Atlas says while casting a cautionary glance at me.
Ezra’s face is curious when he turns to me.
“Food’s ready. Let’s eat!” our host exclaims.
A silent truce is established between Atlas and me. We keep quiet about the risk of the Barclay Network finding us. If it’s pertinent information later, I’ll tell Ezra, but for now, I don’t want to worry him. He has enough on his plate. And I must protect him, no matter the cost.
Chapter 28
Ezra
Ican’t eat. Atlas was kind enough not to mention it and offered to store the food in the fridge for later, but I insisted I’d finish. Even after he left because he had school in the morning, I couldn’t give the lovingly home-cooked meal the proper attention.
Comfort food is always easier to stomach.
So is tequila, but I don’t have that.
Ice creeps through my body.
And now, sleep is hard to come by. The tether persists, clawing at my eyelids to stay open while Conin stains the brunt end of these intoxicating thoughts. His expression was brief, only catchable if you were already suspicious that he was upset. I was lucky enough to catch the momentary chink in his armor.
He’s dissuaded by mine and Atlas’s tether, but the distrust is there and it’s ravaging his insides. There’s more to it, there must be, either because his protective instincts are kicking in or he really wants to believe we’re safe now, out of the home stretch.
I can’t say my faith in Atlas is concrete, but a spark has been kindled, and the tether urges, no,beckonsme to trust him without any substantial reasoning.
Or could Conin’s strange attitude be—
No, of course he doesn’t love me. Not in that way. He made it clear he saw me as no more than just a brother. I shouldn’t get my hopes up. After all, his expression could have been many things. Would he tell me if he liked me in that way? I know I wouldn’t. I doubt he would.
Atlas is a stranger. It makes sense that Conin’s hesitant. Though he’s relaxed some now that a part of the burden is on Atlas’s shoulders, Conin’s guard’s still up. He carries that damn gun everywhere, waiting for the moment everything goes wrong. Atlas attempts to warm up to him, but he maintains his distance. Rightfully so.
When it’s obvious that I won’t get any sleep tonight, I toss in bed and check to see if Conin is asleep. The steady rise and fall of his stomach, and the subtle noise rising from his mouth are indications enough. I move stealthily, a skill I acquired over the years in the Gray household. The sheets rustle gently when I stand.
Exiting the room, I hadn’t realized I’d been suffocating, the claustrophobia pressed tight against my lungs. There must be a distraction, something to alleviate this anxiety. The arcade machines look enticing, but that’ll be loud—so, no point in listening to any of these records, either. There’s a gaming console near the TV and I browse through the selection of games. Nothing piques my interest, so I end up perusing through the movies instead. And to my delight the secondStar Warsmovie is aligned with the other films. It’s slotted into the DVD player immediately. But when my favorite scenes unfurl, their enjoyment is lost. The past several days have sucked the joy from me.
One Halloween a handful of years ago, Conin and I decided to dress asStar Warscharacters. We were seven, maybe eight—he’d settled on Obi-Wan while I was Anakin. Conin was large for his age at the time and could have easily passed as a fledgling middle schooler. I reached out for him in a bout of confusion, coming to find out he wasn’t the only one dressed in the costume. Somehow, we’d been separated, and being the kid that I was, I panicked in silence. I searched and searched and searched, but to no avail.
Eventually, I crumpled on the curb. Tears welled, but they wouldn’t shed. The panic surged and people passed, but no one stopped—no one cared. Until, suddenly, his voice sounded in the dark. It called to me—concern, fear, and eagerness wrapped into this voice that brought me immense comfort. A pillar of light, Conin came back to me. His lightsaber was ignited, pail brimmed with candy, and his stance hero-like amongst the hundreds of passersby. My Jedi knight in shining armor.
A crash echoes just beyond the sealed door, thrusting me into the present. I jump, then peer at it skeptically, unsure whether anything should be done about it. What if Callum or the masked mercenary tracked us down? What if that’s one of them behind the door? I find out when it slides aside a moment later. Atlas steps through the threshold.
Tucked in the crook of his arms is a box that clinks with every movement. He doesn’t notice me here, not yet, as he makes his way to the kitchen island with a disgruntled expression. The bottom of the cardboard box thuds to the counter and Atlas starts to unload bottles of alcohol. He has yet to notice me uselessly standing here in the entertainment room.
When he finishes stuffing the cupboards full of booze, he turns for the box and sees me standing there in the exact position I was in when the door opened. Startled, he clutches his heart and shuts his eyes, glasses askew.
“Jesus fuck,” he whispers.
“Hi,” I say.
Hi?Are you fucking kidding me, Ezra?
