Page 10 of Atlas (The Chaos Demons MC #6)

Atlas

“It’s just coffee,” I tell Fletch, grabbing my keys off the table.

He leans against the doorframe, arms folded, smirking. “Sure, it is.”

“She’s not like that.” I say it too fast, too defensive, and I know I’ve given myself away.

Fletch raises a brow. “Didn’t say she was. But if your game’s good, she’ll be whatever you want her to be.”

I shoot him a glare and spritz on some aftershave, hoping it masks how wound-up I suddenly feel. “Can’t you go bug Gemma?”

“She’s busy,” he mutters, pushing off the frame with a dramatic sigh. “And now, you’re ditching me to have coffee with a librarian.”

That one lands wrong. I turn to him slowly, feeling the shift in my mood settle across my shoulders. He must see it because his smirk fades.

“Joking,” he says quickly. “Shit, Atlas, don’t look at me like that.”

I don’t respond, just grab my kutte from the back of the chair. “Keep an eye on Kasey,” I say instead, my tone sharp enough to cut. “She’s not to leave this place.”

“Got it,” Fletch replies, more serious now.

Kasey’s been itching to get out, pacing the walls like a caged animal. I can’t blame her, not really, but I can’t let her go either. Not until we figure out what the hell we’re doing with her.

I shrug on my kutte, take one last look at myself in the mirror, and try to shake off the feeling that I’m heading into something I’m not ready for.

Just coffee.

But nothing about Rue feels casual.

The café she picked isn’t like the ones I’d usually step into. Too many fairy lights strung across the ceiling, weird, mismatched mugs on every table, and a chalkboard menu with terrible handwriting.

But then I spot her.

She’s already at a table by the window, legs crossed, a book open in her lap, and her glasses sliding down her nose. Her hair is up in some messy twist, and there’s a coffee cup in front of her with something pink and foamy on top. Of course, she ordered something with foam art.

She hasn’t seen me yet, so I pause for a second and just watch her.

She licks her finger and turns a page, eyebrows scrunching like whatever she’s reading is serious business. I’m halfway across the room before she looks up, and when she does, she startles so hard, she nearly knocks her drink over.

“Sorry,” she blurts, scrambling to close the book and bumping the table in the process. “I was . . . reading, obviously . Hi.”

“Hi.” I bite down a smile and slide into the seat across from her. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t . . . well, you did, but it’s fine.” She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and won’t quite meet my eyes. “You’re, uh, early.”

“You’re adorable when you panic,” I say without thinking.

Her eyes snap to mine, wide, and then her cheeks colour. “Can I get you a coffee?”

“Can I get you one?” I counter, nodding at her half-drunk cup. “A fresh one.”

She glances at it. “This one has gone a little cold,” she admits. “I got so lost in the book . . .”

“What are you reading?”

She hesitates. “A fantasy novel.”

“And that’s about . . .?”

Her eyes are suddenly alight with passion. “There’s a necromancer, and a banshee prince, and a haunted carriage that eats people . . .” She trails off, clearly realising how that sounds. “Sorry, that’s weird, isn’t it?”

I shrug. “Sounds better than real life.”

She nods with enthusiasm. “That’s why I love to read so much. My dad hated my books,” she tells me, almost like she couldn’t stop the words even if she wanted to. “So, I’d sneak them in and read under the covers at night.”

I grin. “I bet you spent most of your teenage years tired.”

She giggles and the sound stirs something inside of me. “I did.”

“Which explains your addiction to coffee.”

She bites her lower lip to stop her smile getting wider, but her eyes shine under the twinkling lights, letting me know she likes our conversation. “I do have an obsession.”

“Yeah, me too,” I say, “but it’s not for coffee.”

Her eyes flick to mine, shy and unsure, and fuck I have to force myself to stand and turn towards the counter and pretend to scan the menu just so I don’t kiss her right here in the middle of this little coffee shop.

The barista smiles. “What can I get you?”

“I’ll take a double espresso.” I turn back to Rue who’s watching me. “And the lady will have . . .”

She blinks, seemingly pulling herself back from wherever her mind had taken her. “Erm, a pistachio latte, please.”

“Tap your card to the machine and I’ll bring them over,” she tells me.

Once I’m sat down again, I relax back into the chair. “Do you read here often?”

She giggles again. “Most nights. I love it here, and it’s quiet.”

“Do you live far?”

She shakes her head but doesn’t comment further. It pleases me to know she doesn’t just blurt her address out. “How’s Kasey?”

I nod. “A royal pain in my arse, but she’s all good.”

She grins. “I swear I’m trying my best to get the money together, so she’ll be out of your hair for good.”

“Is that the plan?”

Her smile fades and she stares out the window for a moment before replying, “I don’t know what else to do.”

“Have you asked Kasey what happened?”

She nods. “She just said it was to do with Dad, and she’d speak to him.”

“Will he help?”

“I doubt it, but she seems to think he will.”

“Do you want me to talk to her?”

“Do you think she’d tell you anything?”

I shrug. We’ve spent the last week together. She follows me to the garage and insists I teach her shit, and she takes it all in, like she’s some kind of fucking genius. “She might. I think she trusts me now.”

“After I left, I didn’t realise things were that bad. I mean, Dad’s always been a lost cause, but he’s never gotten us involved. And Kasey, well, if Dad tells her to keep things from me, she does.”

“We need a plan that doesn’t involve you running out on me,” I say with a small smile.

“So, who’s the posh woman Kasey mentioned?” She blushes before quickly adding, “You don’t have to tell me.”

Our coffees arrive and I take a moment to gather my words. “Apparently, it wasn’t serious.”

She eyes me over her cup, poised to take a sip. Instead, she asks, “You thought it was more?”

“I thought it was heading that way, yeah.”

“I’m so sorry it didn’t work out for you,” she says, placing her cup down. “Love can be brutal.”

“Lucky for me, I’ve had your sister around to distract me, and she doesn’t do sympathy in any shape or form.”

Rue laughs. “Yeah, emotions aren’t one of her strong points.”

“I’m glad about that. And it’s worked because I feel much better already.” I hold eye contact for a second longer than needed. “I’m over her.”

She arches a brow. “How long were you . . . not a thing for?”

I shrug. “A few months.”

“How many exactly?”

I take a sip of the coffee. “Almost a year . . . maybe.”

Her eyes widen. “A year. That’s a relationship.”

I give a humourless laugh. “Some would agree.”

“Wait, you stuck around for an entire year and she broke up with you?”

“She didn’t break up with me. Technically, it was never a thing.”

She slumps back in her chair and pushes her glasses farther up her nose again. “Wow.”

“See, now, I feel like you’re judging me,” I say, my tone teasing. “Like you’re wondering what I did to scare her away.”

She smirks, shrugging. “Did you do anything?”

I think on her words. “I don’t think so.”

“Um, that usually means you did do something, but you don’t want to say.”

I laugh, letting the smile fade as I think over how things were between the two of us.

“I love too hard,” I admit, suddenly feeling like I need to be honest with her and give her a chance to see the real me so she can run now.

“I care too much. And I let myself fall too hard. I’m an all-in kind of guy. ”

I catch her expression soften. “That doesn’t sound like something a woman would run away from.”

I huff out a small laugh. “They do if they’re scared of love.”

Rue

He loves too hard. He’s an all-in kind of guy. What the hell is wrong with his ex? This guy is every woman’s dream, surely.

I mean, he’s easy on the eye with broad shoulders and tattoos begging me to trace with my fingers.

He’s got a mean, angry kind of scowl which sits permanently on his face, but for some reason, it doesn’t scare me, it intrigues me.

His eyes are dark green, and they’re forever darting around like he can’t truly relax .

. . like he’s looking for danger. It makes me wonder what he’s seen, what he’s looking out for.

“Anyway,” he says, resting his elbows on his knees and staring me in the eye. “What about your past relationships.”

I give a nervous laugh. “I’m pretty sure I read somewhere that you should never talk about exes on a first date.” The words tumble out before I realise what I’ve said, and Atlas gives me a wide grin.

“A date?”

“I mean . . . not a date . . . it’s a—”

“No, no, you can’t take it back now. You said it was our first date.”

“Oh God,” I mutter, burying my burning face in my hands. “I want the ground to swallow me whole.”

“If this is a date, you must be single.” I want to laugh. Is he serious? He thinks anyone would want to date me! He’s staring at me now, waiting for a response. “Unless you’re with someone?”

I shake my head. “No, I’m not with anyone.”

“Good,” he says, his smile returning. He finishes his coffee. “Cos I didn’t want to beat anyone to death and ruin my good mood.” My eyes widen and he laughs. “Kidding.”

But I’m not shocked at what he said, I’m shocked at how excited it made me feel. My Dad was right; I read way too much romance.

God help me, I like him. Not just in a he’s hot and makes my insides fizz kind of way. But in a I want to keep talking to him until the café closes, until the sun comes up, until I’ve accidentally told him all my secrets kind of way. And that’s terrifying.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he says after a beat.

“What question?”

“Your past relationships.”