Page 79 of The Bonds of Indigo

His brows jump at the pronoun. “Then why is he in the Beyond?”

“It’s… complicated,” I say, and this time the word feels too small. “Too complicated for you to understand—not because you’re stupid. That word has been pissing me off lately.” He snorts at that, but I just roll my eyes and press on. “I shouldn’t have waited this long to try to reach him. No point beating myself up about it now. I’m going, and that’s what matters.”

Atlas nods, sips again, then sets his mug down. “Have you told Amarah?”

I give him a puzzled look. “No. Why would it matter?”

He shrugs, exaggerated, rolling his eyes away and letting out a low, theatrical whistle.

“Atlas,” I warn. “She won’t even tell me her side of the bargain. All I know is she wants someone dead and won’t tell me who. You think I’m going to tell her, ‘Hey, I’m trying to get my ex back from the Beyond because I let his ass disappear in the first place’? No. Absolutely not.”

“Seems petty.”

“It’s also none of her business. None of yours, either. Watch it.”

He gives me a mischievous grin. “You wouldn’t be keeping it from her for another reason, would you?”

“Alright, now you’re way out of line. I wouldn’t give a shit if she knew. Plus, why—no, I’m not going down that road.” I wave my hand and then pinch the bridge of my nose.

“Just saying, I can practically taste the tension between you two. If I had someone to bet with, I’d say it’s only a matter of time before you two fu⁠—”

“No.”

“Don’t no me, Kayn. You were fucking jealous she was laying on me in the car for Vayl sakes.” He points a finger right at me. One if he isn’t careful with, I may snap off.

“I’m not jealous,” I nearly huff, but I reign it in. I’m not jealous… I’m not! Atlas gets close to people, too much so, and it can mess with his judgement. That’s all.

That is all.

“Uh-huh. I think you aren’t telling her because you think she’d be upset you’re going after your ex, aka, not being over him.”

“I said… I don’t care⁠—”

“Good morning, Atlas.”

My damn heart leaps straight into my throat at the sound of Amarah’s voice.

She walks right past my side of the booth and squeezes in beside Atlas. He shifts over to make room, and she settles in without hesitation. Then she immediately reaches for his coffee, lifts it to her lips, and takes a drink.

Her eyes rise over the rim, and when she spots me, as though she genuinely hadn’t expected I’d be sitting there, one eyebrow lifts.

Atlas holds his breath, and the beating of his heart I know is making it difficult for him to do.

“Oh. Morning, Butcher. Didn’t see you there.”

The silence that follows is suffocating—thick enough to smother a flame. If someone dropped a pin in the next city over, I’d probably hear it clearer than either of them breathing.

She shifts, turning slightly toward Atlas, confusion etched in her expression. For a heartbeat, I wonder if maybe she didn’t overhear what he’d implied earlier. Gods, I hope not.

“You make your coffee how I like it,” she says simply, taking another sip before leaning back in the booth, perfectly relaxed.

“I-I can go get you your own cup.”

She shrugs. “We’re friends. Friends share drinks…” Her eyes cut back to me, sharp enough to draw blood. “Though maybe go easier on the ChapStick, Atlas. You really don’t need it.”

Heat spikes up my spine, white-hot and instant.

“Your lips look moisturized enough,” she adds, taking another slow sip. Not once breaking eye contact.