Page 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

ATLAS

Early mornings weren’t unusual for me.

Even if I wasn’t waking up to hit the gym before heading to the school, my internal alarm clock went off at five a.m. without fail.

The years I’d spent in the league, when my days began before dawn, had trained my system.

Normally, it wasn’t a problem.

But normally, I hadn’t had trouble in the form of a dark-haired vixen in my bed the night before.

She’d stayed true to her word, leaving my room just over an hour after she’d arrived.

But even with our brief time together, there was no denying she’d shaken my very foundation.

My dreams had been filled with replays of our time together.

I’d woken up hard as a fucking rock, humping the goddamn mattress like I was fifteen years old all over again.

Jerking off in the shower wasn’t anything new to me—it’d been my standard MO for years—but I did it more out of routine than necessity.

That hadn’t been the case this morning.

When I’d woken up, I could still smell her on my sheets, still taste her on my tongue.

And as desperately as I wanted another round with her, this was for the better.

Just a single night of fun that didn’t have a hope of reaching me back home.

Getting on the road early meant I made it to Starlight Cove before ten and headed straight for my mom’s.

I hadn’t heard anything more from my brothers, but time—and history—had proven that wasn’t always a good thing.

In fact, it usually wasn’t.

After parking my SUV in her driveway, I strolled to the back door, pressed my thumb against the lock pad so it could read my print, and let myself in.

The scent of freshly ground coffee beans greeted me, as did an absolute fucking catastrophe.

Standing at the back door, I braced my hands on my hips as I surveyed the disaster area formerly known as my mom’s kitchen.

Buckets filled with various levels of water were everywhere, heaps of towels piled on the countertops.

The cabinet doors below the sink hung open, the contents scattered on the floor.

I strode over, squatted to get a better look at the pipes, and clenched my jaw at what I found.

Duct tape. Fucking duct tape .

I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and thumbed a quick text into the group chat.

Group text with Atlas, Xander, Declan, and Lincoln

10:08 a.m.

Atlas:

Which of you dumbasses had the bright idea to use duct tape to “fix” mom’s problem?

Lincoln:

Don’t look at me.

I was at the bar.

Declan:

Idk wtf you wanted me to do, Atlas.

I’m not a fucking plumber.

Atlas:

Clearly. So when is the plumber coming?

Declan:

Whenever you schedule them.

Of course. Because why would anyone else do what needed to be done?

Atlas:

I’m calling you fuckers when I get done at Mom’s and we’re going to talk about this.

Declan:

Can’t wait

After pocketing my phone again, I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes and groaned.

I’d gone away for a single goddamn night, and chaos ensued.

Though that wasn’t much different from a usual day here.

I had no idea why I thought I’d have a reprieve when I left town.

Not when it’d been like this for as long as I could remember.

I’d always been there to pick up the pieces, fix whatever was broken, and make sure my mom and brothers were taken care of.

The constant weight of that had long since settled on my shoulders, as if it were a part of me.

But sometimes, I wondered what it would be like to not carry this responsibility.

To not be the rock they leaned on.

The one who always took care of shit.

But then I would remember why I had to step up in the first place.

And how I wasn’t sure I’d ever be done atoning for the mistakes I’d made after.

“Atlas!” My mom strolled into the kitchen, coffee cup clutched in her hand and a bright smile on her face.

“I thought I heard your groan.”

“Which YouTube video told you to use duct tape?”

She strode over, glanced down at me with a twinkle in her eye, and patted my cheek.

“Well, good morning to you, too, my little grump.”

I pushed up from my squat and stood to my full height, looming over her by nearly a foot and a half.

Rolling her eyes, she patted my chest. “I don’t care how big you get, my darling son. You will always be my little grump. Need I remind you I went through twenty-seven hours of labor, too many diaper changes to count, and your terrible threes? I’ve earned the right to call you whatever I want, and I intend to do so. There’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I tipped my head to the mess under her sink.

“The duct tape, Mom.”

“Oh, that.” She swatted her hand in the general direction of her absolutely fucked pipes, as if to dismiss the problem entirely.

“They’ll be fine for now. Besides, we have more pressing issues to discuss.”

“I’d love to know what’s more pressing than water leaking all over your kitchen floor.”

She stood on her tiptoes, cupped my face in her hands, and turned my head until I had a straight shot into her dining room.

And the heaps of packages and letters covering her table.

“Been a while since you’ve picked up your fan mail from the library.”

My jaw ticked as I glared at the offending piles.

People sending me shit was bad enough.

But when some overzealous fans hadn’t been able to uncover my address—I paid a shit-ton to keep that under wraps, along with the rest of my family’s—they’d found out my mom was Starlight Cove’s lead librarian and proceeded to send everything there.

“Throw it all out.”

“I will. After you go through it and tell me which ones I can share with Mabel and the book club.”

I shot her a scowl.

“What’s the point? Anything I add to the absolutely-not pile are the first ones you share.”

“Well, you don’t expect me to keep the best ones from everyone, do you?”

“That’s the whole point of me going through them,” I said with more bite than necessary.

She tsked and shook her head.

“I know it’s not the book club gossip that has you this worked up. So what is it? The gala wasn’t fun?”

“The gala was fine.” What came after had been spectacular.

“Well, it must not have been if you’re in a state like this.”

“It’s not the gala that’s bothering me.” I closed my eyes, pinched the bridge of my nose, and exhaled a heavy sigh.

“I hate that they know where you work. I’m just waiting for someone to show up in person.”

“I don’t think we have to worry about that. They’re harmless.” She hooked her arm through mine and led us into the dining room.

“In fact, I bet there won’t even be any panties in this bunch.”

That was easy for her to say.

She’d never had a stalker show up outside her house or slip into her hotel room or tie themselves to the roof of her car—yes, literally.

The league had paid me handsomely for many years.

But even with the substantial nest egg I’d accumulated, I wasn’t sure it was enough to account for my lack of privacy.

I was just thankful as fuck for every day that went by when a stalker didn’t manage to track down my address.

It was why I’d settled back in Starlight Cove.

Most of the residents didn’t care that I’d been the league’s top tight end.

Their main concern was how I was coaching the high schoolers and whether One Night Stan’s was going to bring back two-for-one drinks on Tuesdays.

Despite the fact that this place was too friendly for my liking, it was home.

No one harassed me when I went about my business in town or coached my team.

At the end of the day, I could escape to my secluded house and not have to worry about a line of jersey chasers blocking my front door.

And that was exactly how I liked it.