Page 163 of Monstrous Serpent

The doorbell rings at the same time my phone buzzes. I pick it up and smile. Oh, this should be fun. Maybe. Could turn into an utter shitshow, and I’ll be stuck suffering through it. Turning to Atlas, I lightly swat his arm. “Get that. And be nice.”

He adjusts his hat and his cognac-brown eyes bore into mine. “Who is it?”

“Just some friends.”

He huffs. “Great. First time I see you in a week, and I gotta share. Love that for me. Wait. Wait, wait, wait. You invited people over? Before me? Un-fucking-believable.”

I roll my eyes.

Atlas stands and glares at me. “When your parents get back with Mr. Smooshy, I’m taking him with me. He loves me more than you anyway.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

A few minutes later Ryan and Doyle enter the room, my now grumpy boyfriend pouting behind them. Doyle daps me up, then flops into the armchair across from me while Ryan sits on the other end of the couch so Atlas can take his spot next to me.

“The hell you guys watching?” Doyle grabs the remote and starts scrolling through the different streaming services.

Atlas drops back against the cushion. “Not your house, but hey, do whatever. Fucking Titans.”

Ryan chuckles, then looks at me. “How you healing?”

I shrug. “Like shit. What about you?”

“Same.”

The murder of his in-laws has been all over the news. Can’t imagine what he and Connor are going through. It’s gotta suck. Though, Doyle says our captain doesn’t seem to give two shits.

Atlas springs upright, holding his hand out to Doyle. “Give me the fucking remote. I’m not watching this dumb reality-show shit.”

I roll my eyes. “Will you calm down?”

“Little J, this is so staged it's painful. Like, you can literally see the producer waving at them from behind the pool. Also, why does everyone on this show talk like they share one brain cell?”

Doyle gives Atlas the finger as he clicks on the latest episode of Love Island. “Three Titans against one snake. You lost, sucka.”

Ryan just scratches his head, eyes bouncing between Atlas and Doyle. “It’s not my thing either. Cody, you need anything?”

“Yeah, some duct tape. Or maybe you can kick the two of them out.”

Ryan snorts, Doyle ignores me, and Atlas whirls around looking absolutely enraged. I chuckle, softer this time, but apparently not enough because the pain still shoots up from a four to a six.

Atlas gestures at the TV. “That's not even twerking. And to a country song? Automatic disqualification. No soulmate connection or whatever they call it. Pack your bags. Done. Next.”

I shake my head. “You were just complaining about this show. Now you’re judging how well they shake their asses.”

He sits up taller. “Because I can do it better.”

My eyes widen, mouth opening and closing, but no words come out. Atlas can dance? Wait, no. This is probably more of an Atlas thinks he can situation.

“Bet you ain’t as good as Henneman,” Doyle says.

Atlas stands, brow quirked. “Yeah no, put something on right now. Not country though, I have standards. Henneman, you're welcome to try to keep up.”

Ryan turns bright red.

I shake my head, exhaling loudly. “Atlas, you’ll lose.”

“How do you know, Little J? You’ve never seen me dance.”