Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
He pulls back, eyes searching mine, apology and wanting tangled there. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I stammer and my cheeks flame. “I mean, I didn’t mind.” Atlas’s eyebrows rise. “I mean… no harm, no foul.”
His answering exhale is half laugh, half relief. “Good to know.”
We look at each other, and I realize this is the moment—a turning point. The last scraps of adversary have fallen away and what’s left is partnership with a pulse.
“Team,” I say again, because it anchors me.
“Team,” he echoes, and his smile is slow and devastating.
He gets the stroller from the hall closet while I go upstairs to throw on leggings and a sweater. When I return, he’s got Grayce zipped into a light jacket, her hair a ridiculous, glorious fluff. He’s tucked a small blanket around her like he’s been doing it for years. The sight hits me in the softest place.
“Ready?” he asks.
I tuck my keys and a pacifier in the diaper bag and sling it over my shoulder. “Ready.”
We step out into the crisp morning. The sun is bright, the sky a clean blue with fat fluffy clouds of cotton white. As we head down the front walk, Grayce jabbers happily, Atlas gives her a running commentary of the world, and I listen, smiling. Eight days stretch ahead of us like a gift I didn’t know I wanted. Time to practice being a team.
Time to see what this could be.
CHAPTER 15
Atlas
The damn cabinet door won’t shut right.
I shove it harder than necessary, the bang echoing through the kitchen like a gunshot. The drawer handle rattles in protest. Grayce doesn’t seem to care. She’s in her playpen babbling at the ceiling fan, plastic ring shoved in her mouth like its filet mignon. But the sound pulls Maddie’s eyes off her laptop, and now she’s watching me with that sharp, assessing gaze that has me bracing.
“You okay over there?” she asks.
“Fine.” The word snaps out before I can temper it. I take a sip of coffee, scald my tongue, and mutter a curse.
The truth? I’m not fine. The downside to sweeping a round in four games is that we’re in wait mode until the next round starts. The buzz of playoff adrenaline goes into hibernation, which is like slamming on the brakes of a runaway freight train. My entire being is tuned for motion and competition, and instead I’m stuck in neutral.
It makes me restless, feeling out of place in my own skin.
“Fine,” Maddie repeats, arching a brow. “Did the toaster hurt your feelings too?”
I drag a hand down my face. Normally, I’d give her a smart-ass comeback, but today I just sigh. “Sorry. I don’t know what to do with myself.”
“And why’s that?” she asks, pushing her laptop aside and fully turning my way.
I lift a shoulder. “Playoffs.”
“I need more than that.”
“It’s hard to explain, but the energy required, and even caused, by the playoffs is almost supernatural. When you’re in the thick of it, it’s a vibe that takes over your entire being. And now that we have to wait for the next round to start, it feels like a big letdown. Does that make sense?”
She nods. “It does. But I know this isn’t the first time you’ve been in this position. What would you do in the past?”
It takes me no time to ponder. “Go hang out with friends, do some adventuring like a hike. Something fun.”
“So go do those things,” she says, and I listen carefully for the judgment I expect to hear in her tone. “Nothing is tying you here.”
“Well, you are, aren’t you?” I grumble. “Because you just made it sound like a sin if I were to go do that.”
“I most certainly did not,” Maddie says, her chin lifted in the air. “I’m saying you are allowed to have a life outside of Grayce and you’re allowed to have it without guilt.”
That sounds genuine, but I’m having a hard time accepting it. “Yeah, but I do feel guilty.” Her blue eyes stay steady on me, and she remains quiet, allowing me the time to work my way through this. It doesn’t take long, and I let out a long-suffering sigh. “And I know you don’t expect me to be here all the time. I’m just trying to learn all of this as I go.”
For a second, she looks at me like she’s trying to decide whether to argue or ignore me. Then, to my surprise, she shuts her laptop and stands. She scoops Grayce out of the playpen, kisses her head, then levels me with a look.
“Want to get out of here?”
I blink. “What?”
“Let’s head over to the park a few blocks over. She’d like the swings.” She bounces Grayce, who squeals in approval. Maddie’s mouth quirks. “And you clearly need to stop glaring at appliances.”
A laugh almost escapes me. I choke it down, but my mood shifts anyway. We had a great time day before yesterday shopping for groceries. Prior to that, we’d taken a nice walk through the neighborhood and chatted about simple stuff, and we avoided talking about Gray. Not because we’re sidestepping the pain, but because it felt like a day to not wallow in grief.