Page 41

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

ATLAS

Alcohol hadn’t been the answer.

Neither had baring my soul.

And watching the woman I loved more than anything move back in to a construction zone hadn’t done much for me either.

It had been more than a week since Sutton had last been in my bed.

Since I’d held her in my arms, kissed her, heard that soft, sultry laugh I loved so much.

And I still wasn’t any closer to figuring out what the hell I needed to do.

The only thing this time apart had managed to solidify for me had been my worry that I wasn’t good enough—not just for Sutton, but Laurel too.

Because they were a package deal, and I knew a thing or two about the effects of having a shitty father.

I’d never forgive myself if I messed up like that with Laurel.

She was a good kid, so much like her mom it had been bittersweet to have her staying over here while Sutton was in the half-finished cottage.

But her being around had also given me purpose, something to focus on.

I went through the motions each day.

I started my morning by trying and failing not to be a creep, the pull of glimpsing Sutton for the brief moment when she left for work too impossible to resist. Then I busied myself with whatever I could find—playing Daddy Grump taxi for Laurel, logging extra hours at work, pushing myself as far as possible in the gym.

All in the hopes that I could close my eyes without seeing Sutton’s stricken face when I’d told her this wasn’t real.

Unfortunately, none of it had worked.

“Seriously?” Laurel snapped, jerking me out of my thoughts.

“ Jesus .” I fumbled with the battery I’d charged last night for her DSLR, and it clattered to the counter.

“Most people start with ‘good morning.’”

“And most people would’ve pulled their head out of their ass by now, so I guess it sucks for both of us.”

Brow furrowed, I glanced around.

I couldn’t lie and say I’d been on my game since Sutton had left, but I’d been managing.

The team shirt Laurel wanted to wear for the game this weekend was already washed and folded on the arm of the couch.

The report she’d needed printed out was in her backpack.

Her camera was now ready to go.

But she was still looking at me like I’d fucked up.

“What’s the problem?” I asked.

“Cami can’t pick you up for school anymore?”

“Oh my god ,” she groaned.

“I’m not telling you to pull your head out of your ass about me , you big, lovable idiot. I’m talking about my mom.”

I blew out a heavy sigh and rubbed my fingers against my chest, where an ache had settled and wouldn’t go away.

“Your mom and I?—”

“Are being idiots. Yeah, I got that.” Laurel opened the fridge, the happy little hum she made when she saw the fancy French yogurt she liked at odds with the scowl she shot me.

She pulled a spoon out of the drawer and pointed it at me like a weapon.

“I don’t like it when my parents fight. And this custody situation is bullshit. I’m splitting my time between this glorious home with my beautiful bedroom and the heated floors and everything that you’ve spoiled me with, and that construction zone my mom’s living in because she thinks it’s better than sleeping in the room next to you.”

“Maybe she’s better off without me.”

“Says who? All I said was that she’d rather sleep in a construction zone than next to you because you’re being a big, dumb boy.”

“ I’m saying it. I’m not good enough for her. I’ve got a lot of shit I need to deal with that I haven’t.”

“And?”

“What do you mean ‘and’?”

“I mean, look around. Everybody’s dealing with shit. You are, I am. You think my mom’s not? She had me when she was sixteen and then emancipated herself from parents who never thought she was good enough. And now you’re showing her she’s not worth fighting for.”

Her words hit me like a ton of bricks, the force of them crashing into me as I sank onto the stool.

“Fuck.”

“Am I starting to get through?”

“I never intended to make her feel like that.”

“Yeah, well, impact matters more than intention.”

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about. I didn’t have a great role model. What if I fuck this whole thing up? I’m already doing it.”

“For the past nine days? Yeah, you haven’t been doing great. But are you really trying to say you weren’t good for us? Have you forgotten about the weeks before this mess?”

“What about them?”

Laurel dropped her head back and groaned toward the ceiling.

“Are all guys really this oblivious? Or is it, like, a football player thing?”

“I don’t know, but I’m begging you to let me in on the secret, kid.”

“Fine, let me lay it out for you.” She settled on the stool next to mine and turned toward me.

“You moved us in here after our home was flooded. You set me up in that sweet-ass bedroom with my own bathroom. You gave me a credit card with an unlimited spending limit to buy whatever I needed to make myself feel at home. You brought me tampons and a change of clothes when I bled all over myself at school because my period likes to show up whenever the hell she wants. You made every player on the football team sit through a two-hour lecture about consent, all because that asshole wouldn’t stop harassing me for my number. Am I getting through yet?”

“None of that was a big deal. Anyone else would have done that.”

“No, Daddy Grump. That’s what I’m telling you. No one else would do that for us. No one else ever has. I’ve watched my mom go through shitty boyfriend after shitty boyfriend. And now I’m just supposed to accept that when she finally found a good one, he can’t pull his head out of his ass to make things right?”

Before I could form a coherent thought in response to Laurel’s words, the back door lock disengaged, and my mom poked her head in.

“Knock, knock.”

“Oh, thank god,” Laurel said, relief in her tone.

“Maybe you can talk some sense into your son.”

I shot Laurel a scowl, a little offended at just how quickly she sold me out.

“Really? We couldn’t keep this between us?”

She looked at me with raised brows.

“I’ve kept it between us for nine days. It’s time for a few reinforcements.”

“So you called my mom ?”

“Don’t get mad at Laurel,” Mom said.

“She didn’t call me. She didn’t have to. Your brothers told me about your little meltdown in One Night Stan’s.”

“It wasn’t a meltdown,” I grumbled.

“Well, all of Mabel’s social media accounts, the Gazette , and the talk around town say otherwise.”

That would explain the looks I’d been getting around town and why people had been jumpier around me than usual.

“You know that’s just Mabel stirring shit. It’s what she does.”

My mom poured herself a cup of coffee before standing at the island.

“And what you do is distract and avoid. Like you’re doing right now. I gave you time to get this figured out. But enough is enough. I’m not going to sit back and let you throw away the two best things that have ever happened to you.” She shot Laurel a wink before pinning me with her unimpressed mom glower, a look usually reserved for my younger brothers.

“Mom, it’s not?—”

“Do not insult me by telling me that what you and Sutton had wasn’t what I thought it was. I’ve known from the first moment I saw you together that you had something special. Something worth fighting for.”

“You’re only saying that because Sutton helped you choose all the fan mail to share with the book club, and she didn’t pull any punches.”

Just the thought of her smiling that night, and the memory of how right it had felt to have her as part of my family—a family that had been fractured but not broken—made my chest tighten, that persistent ache thrumming harder.

A secret smile lifted her lips, and she shook her head.

“That wasn’t the first time I saw you two together.”

I snapped my gaze to my mom’s, a dozen possibilities flipping through my mind, each one more horrifying than the last. I could think of countless times Sutton and I had been together—in public—that I didn’t want my mom to have any knowledge of.

Before I could ask her what she meant, she pulled her phone out of her purse, navigated to something, and slid it across the island toward me.

It was the Instagram feed for the Portland Punishers with a post featuring a bunch of photos taken the night of the charity gala.

But instead of the ballroom, this black-and-white image had been taken in the bar.

Marino, Wilkins, and Sharp, all former teammates of mine, stood together, drinks in hand, smiling at the camera.

But that wasn’t what caught my attention.

It was Sutton and me in the background.

And just like that, I remembered that moment.

It was after she’d shifted my entire world with that kiss.

I held her against me, lifting her right off the floor as if she was meant to be there.

As if it had been as natural as breathing.

And that feeling was written across every inch of my face.

“See?” my mom said. “ That’s when I knew. It just took a bit for you to work your way back together. As… unconventional as that path has been.”

I stared at her in shock, not quite able to believe what she was saying.

“Are you telling me you’ve known all along that this was fake?”

“Oh shit,” Laurel whispered, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from my mom.

Mom laughed and leaned over the island, resting her hand on mine.

“Oh honey, no. I’m saying I knew all along it was real . I was just waiting for you two to catch up.”

“Double shit,” Laurel whispered.

I glanced down at the picture again, enlarging it until just Sutton and I filled the screen.

Since the morning after that night, I’d been lying to myself.

Pretending I hadn’t felt what I did with Sutton.

But I couldn’t continue to lie when the evidence was staring back at me in literal black-and-white.

“We make a good team, don’t we, Laurel?” Mom said.

“Thank god for that,” Laurel said.

“Maybe now he can finally do his thing.”

I tore my gaze away from the picture and met Laurel’s gaze.

“What thing?”

“You know, where shit happens, and you just handle it,” she said with a shrug, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Fuck, that was what I did.

What I’d been doing my whole life.

And while sometimes it got a little heavy knowing I was the one people counted on, I also enjoyed taking care of people I loved.

And I’d fallen down on the job when it mattered most.

“I handle things like plumbing issues and shopping for custom refrigerators and dealing with a cottage flooding. I have no idea how to fix this, kid.”

“Come on, Daddy Grump. You’re a smart guy. You can figure it out. Just think about what my mom loves and go from there.”

My mind was already spinning, a dozen possibilities popping up, but I disregarded each one as soon as they came.

None of them was good enough.

None of them proved that I was in this for the long haul.

That I loved Sutton.

That I wanted her and Laurel by my side for the rest of my life.

I glanced around, hoping for inspiration—something, anything , that would help—when my gaze landed on a stack of books I’d ordered for Sutton before everything had happened.

And a spark lit in my mind.

“Did you figure it out?” my mom asked, clearly reading the determination in my expression.

“Not yet, but I’m getting there.”