He shoved a hand through his messy, chaotic, lovely hair. “Before Ty and I were adopted, we didn’t have the best home life.”
My stomach sank. I clutched my fingers around his.
“I won’t get into the shitty details, but our father was basically a piece of human garbage.” His jaw clenched, a muscle popping in his cheek. “He did a lot of horrible things.” His eyes glazed over, as if he were looking at something far away. “The worst of it wasn’t when he hit me. I could handle the pain, and I think he knew that. So, he…he started locking me in the crawl space under the house.”
My hands tightened even more on his hand as a shiver racked through him.
“It was always so dark down there. I couldn’t see my hands and there were always…things in the darkness. Bugs. Mice. Sometimes snakes.”
The blood drained from my face as I sucked in a sharp breath.
Atlas laughed—a cold, bitter sound. “I don’t tell you this to make you feel sorry for me or anything. I just…shit, I don’t know.” He massaged his temple with his free hand, eyes rimmed in red. “I wanted you to know I’m not usually such a wimp.”
He looked as lost as I felt all the time. I wanted to throw my arms around him, hold him and never let him go.
I resisted the urge but didn’t let his hand go. I held it between both of mine.
“Everyone has something they are afraid of,” I said. “You don’t need to justify yourself to me.”
He stared at our clasped hands, then up at my face. “I don’t want to be afraid, Wren.”
We sat for a beat in silence, my brain processing his story. I wanted to help him. I owed him so much.
A thought struck me.
I bit my lip, and his eyes darkened. “Do you trust me, Atlas?”
His brows raised slightly. “I’m letting you stay here, aren’t I? I wouldn’t let someone stay on my property if I didn’t trust them.”
I bit harder, the blood pulsing painfully beneath the delicate flesh between my teeth. I didn’t know if I liked that he trusted me so easily. I let go of his hand and reached across him to turn on the lamp on the side table. Atlas’s eyes followed my every move as I stood up and walked back to the panel of light switches. His eyes widened as I reached for them.
“Trust me,” I whispered, and flipped the switch off. The only remaining light was the soft glow of the lamp next to Atlas. His body tensed.
He watched me as I came back. I sat beside him again and took his hand. “You’ve done so much for me. I want to help you if I can. I want to try something and if you’re not into it, or if it’s too much, that’s fine. Tell me and we’ll stop.”
His chest rose rapidly again. My breathing matched his as nerves shot through me.
“Okay,” he rasped.
I carefully placed his hand on my chest, above my heart, right where I’d been ruined. It was still a tender area, but the warmth of his hand soothed the pain. “Do you feel my heart beating?”
His breathing hitched as he nodded, the muscles in his arms corded and strained.
“Good. Now, I’m going to turn off the lamp. When it gets dark, I want you to focus on my heartbeat. I want you to know, without a doubt, that there is someone beside you. I want you to focus on the fact that you are not alone in the darkness.”
His hand started to tremble, and I feared this was a bad idea, but he nodded. “Okay,” he said, yet again, his voice thick and husky, and I felt it in my bones.
“Are you ready?” I whispered.
He nodded again, and with his hand still firmly placed above my heart, I reached over him and clicked off the light.
The darkness was immediate and consuming. He inhaled sharply, and I pressed his hand against my chest, ignoring the burning pull of my healing wound.
“Focus, Atlas,” I breathed. “You aren’t alone. Nothing can hurt you. Not anymore.”
His muscles eased gradually, until his fingers stopped trembling. A smile tugged at my lip.
We sat in the dark as moments passed. My eyes adjusted, the moonlight barely reaching us from the back windows, but I made out his glinting eyes, the curve of his lips.