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CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

SUTTON

Atlas hadn’t been lying.

There’d been absolutely no sleep happening.

I was sated but exhausted, draped across his chest while he traced his callused fingertips over my back.

I’d lost count of how many orgasms he’d given me.

I’d come so hard, tears had leaked out of my eyes.

At one point, I was pretty sure I’d forgotten my name.

I didn’t know what time it was and found I didn’t have the strength to lift my head to look.

Not when Atlas’s heartbeat was thudding beneath my ear, his fingers tracing up and down my spine, that elusive sleep finally within reach.

At least until his phone buzzed on the nightstand, and he let out a muttered curse.

“I think you’re the only person I’ve ever met who doesn’t keep their phone on silent,” I mumbled into his skin.

He reached over and glanced at the device before setting it back down.

“Silent mode is when the disasters happen. There’ve been three water-related issues just this month.”

“The cottage flooding is one… What were the other two?”

“My mom decided to play plumber and attempt to fix some leaky pipes by watching YouTube videos. That went as well as you’re imagining.”

I grinned into his chest, my mind conjuring up the kind of woman who birthed men as different as Atlas and Lincoln, not to mention her other two sons, and also got up to mischief with home improvement projects.

“Then the fridge at the bar shit the bed and leaked water all over, but Lincoln didn’t tell me about it until the next day.”

“Well, that was nice of him to try to handle it.”

He let out a low grumble.

“He didn’t handle it. He left it to sit overnight. We’re lucky we didn’t have permanent water damage on the floors.”

I scraped my nails through the hair on his chest, loving the almost involuntary sigh that left him at my touch.

“So…what? You’re always on call?”

He blew out a long sigh against the top of my head.

“Pretty much.”

I hummed in acknowledgment and glanced up at him.

With the shades drawn, it was dark in his bedroom.

But we’d been in this sleep cocoon for long enough that I was still able to make out his features.

Could feel his gaze on me.

“Let me guess. You’re the oldest.”

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 when ours 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 there ever been 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 been tempted before.

With Atlas, though, I was.

And the magnitude of what that might mean scared the hell out of me.

It turned out 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 of scrubs, 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 I need to give you a limit, kid?”

“C’mon, Daddy Grump, I’m just fucking with you.” Laurel slipped the credit card into her pocket and shot him a grin.

“I won’t be an asshole, and you won’t give me a limit.”

“Fine.”

“I hope you know how dangerous that is,” I said, my voice just above a whisper as I braced myself against the counter.

He turned toward me, the heat in his stare replaced almost immediately by concern.

He ran his gaze over me from head to toe, his brow pinching at whatever he saw.

“Why are you whispering? And why the hell are you wearing sunglasses in the house?”

“It’s just a headache,” I mumbled.

Laurel snorted as she rinsed her bowl and put it in the dishwasher.

“Right. That’s just a headache like this is just a house.”

Atlas turned toward her.

“What’s that mean?”

She lifted a shoulder in a shrug.

“Mom gets migraines.”

He snapped his attention back to me, his jaw clenching as he so easily clocked the tightness in my expression.

“If you have a migraine, what are you doing down here? You should be?—”

“Relax,” I interrupted him.

“I just took a magic pill, so I’ll hopefully be fine by the time I get to work.”

“Work?” he barked, causing an ice pick to stab me through the skull.

I cringed, closing my eyes through the reverberating throb.

He muttered a curse under his breath and pointedly lowered his voice, though there was no denying the command still behind it.

“Absolutely not. You’re not going to work. You’re going to go upstairs and get back in bed.”

“Can’t. The sun shines directly on my bed.”

“My room, then.”

“But—”

“This isn’t a negotiation, trouble.” He plucked the phone from my hand and set it on the island before guiding me upstairs.

“You go back to bed. I’ll get Laurel to school.”

“I have to call?—”

“ I’ll call the clinic. You sleep this off, and let me worry about everything else.”

Unable to argue, I shuffled into Atlas’s now-familiar room, the light shining through the open curtains and making me cringe.

I started toward them before I felt warm hands on my hips and his hulking form behind me.

“I’ll get them.” He led me toward his side of the bed instead of the one I’d been occupying for the past several nights before pressing a button on the remote sitting on his nightstand.

A soft whir filled the room as the shades over his windows lowered, offering wonderful, blissful darkness.

I exhaled a deep sigh, my shoulders relaxing from the position they’d taken up below my ears.

Then gently, so gently, he skimmed his hands under my scrub top and pulled it from my body.

While I unhooked my bra beneath my tank top and tugged it out the arm holes, he slid my pants down my legs.

As if he didn’t want me to suffer through even the effort of stepping out of my bottoms, he squatted in front of me and wrapped his hand around the back of my knee, lifting first one leg out, then the other.

Though I’d stood in front of him in much less than the panties and tank top I was currently wearing, this still felt far more intimate.

I didn’t allow many people to see my cracks.

Didn’t allow anyone, really, besides Laurel to witness me vulnerable.

It was something I’d learned growing up in the house I had—any weakness had been weaponized and used against me.

When I’d left that house and my parents for good, I’d vowed never to allow anyone to do that to me again.

But as Atlas guided me into his bed and removed my sunglasses before pressing a soft kiss on my temple, he didn’t make me feel weak.

Instead, I felt cared for.

Cherished.

There, snuggled in his bed, wrapped up in blankets that smelled like him, I dozed off, not worrying about anything.

Instead, completely comforted in the feeling of warmth that had settled over me.