Chapter Twelve
Wren
IparkedAtlas’struck in the garage and climbed out, almost falling in the process. I wasn’t used to how high the truck stood. It was late, past midnight, and I was exhausted after helping close again after a busy night at the grill. The money was worth it, though.
I headed toward the back door that opened to the yard and the sweet, little guest house I’d been calling home. The night was humid, but a cool breeze kept the sweat away as I stood at the edge of the in-ground pool and admired the view from up on the bluff. A clear sky showcased a bright, brilliant moon bathing the town across the river in a celestial glow. The sight made my breath catch. I didn’t know if I’d ever get used to this.
I breathed in deep, that feeling of peace settling over me like the dusting of stars above. I rubbed my tired eyes, thinking about sinking into the soft comforts of my bed when my stomach growled and clenched.
I groaned, pressing a hand over my stomach. There hadn’t been time to eat all shift, and I was ravenous. Turning from the view, my gaze shifted between the little guest house and the main house. There wasn’t any food stocked in the small fridge or cabinets yet, and if I wanted something to eat, I’d have to go to the main house.
My stomach twisted and squealed again. I wouldn’t be able to sleep unless I ate something. The lights were on in the living room of the main house, so hopefully I wouldn’t wake anyone if I went inside.
And part of me hoped that Atlas was the one awake. I hadn’t seen him before my shift and his cruiser was in the driveway.
I started toward the house, ascending the stairs of the patio. A keypad was fixed on a panel near the side of the glass door, and I typed in the code Atlas had given me and pushed open the large door. It felt strange not knocking, but Atlas told me specifically not to. The house was open to me whenever. Still, I entered quietly on the balls of my feet.
Everything was still and silent. The only noise was the ticking of the clock on the wall above the mantel. I glanced around but didn’t see anyone within the open space. Walking deeper within the house, I craned my neck to peer down the hall toward Atlas’s bedroom. The door was closed.
I clenched my teeth, ignoring the pang of disappointment, and turned toward the kitchen. I tiptoed around, grabbing a banana and a protein bar I’d found in the pantry. I took a juice from the fridge and, with my arms full of snacks, headed back to the door to eat in the guest house.
I stared up at the bright lights above me before leaving. Assuming they’d been left on by accident, I glanced around for a light switch. There were numerous panels of switches around the space, and I had no idea what they all went to. But near the back door, there was a panel of four switches, two of which were facing up. I shrugged, taking a guess, and flipped them down.
Instantly the room went dark.
Well, that was easy. The only light left was the dull glow from the moon. I was about to step back outside when a gasp and frantic scuffling noise from behind me made me freeze.
Frowning, I turned. Even though it was dark, I could make out someone sitting straight up on one of the couches in the living room.
My heartbeat accelerated as I recognized the shape of the shadow. “Atlas?” I said. He must’ve been sleeping on the couch, hidden from me at this angle.
“Wren?” He gasped my name, voice tense and breathless.
Concern pulsed through me. I’d never heard him sound so…scared. I turned and flipped one of the switches back on, bathing the living room in light again. Atlas’s eyes were wide. Panicked breaths escaped him as he searched the space. When his eyes found mine, his taut body relaxed, but only slightly.
“Are you all right?” I set my food on the dining room table and rushed toward him. He watched me closely with each step, as if he thought I wasn’t real. My frown deepened. He looked awful. Purple smudges shadowed his amber-flecked eyes. His face was pale, expression wary.
I sat on the couch beside him, my closeness somehow seeming to snap him out of whatever trance he’d had because he looked away. His breathing was still heavy as the tops of his cheeks flushed.
“Um, yes.” He cleared his throat. “I’m fine.”
I cocked my head as I studied him. “You don’t look fine.”
He swallowed. “I, uh.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t like the dark.”
My brows furrowed. It took a moment for it to click. I’d turned off the light before he’d woken up in what seemed like a panic.
“Oh, my God.” I covered my open mouth. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea you were in here. I couldn’t see you on the couch and I thought the light had been left on by mistake and—”
He held up a hand, cutting me off. “It’s okay, Wren.” He tried to smile but it looked more like a grimace. “It’s not your fault. I—I really should just get over it.”
I shook my head. “No, I should’ve left the light on. It wasn’t my place…”
His hand shot out, silencing me as he held onto mine. His was warm and slightly rough. “Stop.” He said it softly, but pointedly. He drew in a breath, his chest expanding with it. “I’m a twenty-six-year-old man. I shouldn’t be afraid of the fucking dark.”
Shame crossed his face. And hurt. Something in my chest stirred, a feeling of dread and helplessness that I couldn’t make sense of.
“Atlas,” I started, but he shook his head.