Page 122 of These Wicked Hearts

“And PTSD.” I nod slowly. “Some days I don’t even want to get out of bed. Not because I can’t, it’s just . . . what’s the point? So I can spend the entire day second-guessing every fucking move? So I can wonder if I’m fucking everything up again? It feels so fucking heavy. All the time. Even just breathing.”

“Until you drink?”

“Until I drink.” I nod. “I’m not addicted to it in the sense that I love being drunk. I’m addicted to feeling nothing. To hearing nothing in my head but silence.”

Oli leans toward me, gripping my knee and forcing my gaze up to him. “Atlas, you don’t have to carry this alone. We’re here. Me, Grey, and Andre. Fuck, even Felix.” And Gage, I think. I have Gage. But not really, right? We’re supposed to be strangers with benefits. This trip has made it feel like shit it can’t be. “Talk to me. Please, Atlas.”

“What is talking going to do? I can’t change what happened.” I swallow hard, pushing back the emotion. “Only Grey knows.”

“Tell me, Atlas.”

I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a balance beam, except the beam is placed over a ledge with boiling lava bubbling beneath me. “I had a sister, Oli,” I finally say and feel the way relief washes over me. “Her name was Penelope. She was everything good to me. She was my best friend even though she was four years younger.” A smile slips onto my lips.

I straighten up in my seat and try to push past the pressure in my chest. Oli watches me carefully, waiting for me to get myself together.

“My mother was an addict, the best and worst mom. She went through waves of addiction. Sober for a while, then using again. It was constant. When she had Penn, I basically took over raising her.”

I swallow hard and try not to let the images hurt me.

“One day I came home, and my mother was passed out on the couch. She’d been going through one of her bad periods again, using. Penn was watching TV, and I assumed she’d been in the house all day. It was so nice out, and I just wanted to take her outside. Like I’d done a hundred times before. It was basically routine at that point.” I shake my head, my knee bouncing.

The fire pops sharply, making me flinch.

“It just took a second. Just one fucking second, and I just—” I swallow hard. “That was it. She was riding her bike and the next second she wasn’t, Oli, I can’t⁠—”

“Hey.” He grips my hand as I try to pull away. My knee bounces harder and I can’t look at him. The grip he has on me is the only thing keeping me here. “You were a kid, Atlas.”

“No I wasn’t!” I look at him. “I’ve never been a fucking kid, Oli. Never. Not once in my life have I felt like a normal fucking kid. I was responsible for her, and I was careless!” My voice sharpens. “I was supposed to protect her. I was the one person in her life that she was supposed to be safe with, and she wasn’t.”

Oli shakes his head, grabbing the side of my chair, and somehow pulls me forward a little to face him. “You were a kid,” Oli repeats, blue eyes hard. “You were a kid. That doesn’t make you responsible for something like that.”

I laugh, though it feels so hollow. “Tell that to my brain. It’s been punishing me all my life. That’s what all this is—” I grip the center of my shirt. “It’s me. I fuck everything up, Oli. Everything. I fucked up my mother’s life, my sisters, Grey’s⁠—”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” We both look up at Grey. “You didn’t fuck anything up, Atlas. You did something kind of shitty while you were drunk, which no, doesn’t excuse it, but it’s the truth. You were drunk and then you did what you always do and tucked your tail between your legs and ran away.”

“You’re happier without me. Look at your life now, Grey!”

“That’s not how it works,” Grey grits out. “I am happy, but it’s not because my best friend won’t speak to me. In fact, that’s the worst thing in my life right now.” The fire spits and crackles. No one says a thing.

“You should have told me sooner,” Oli says.

My shoulders slump. “I didn’t want you to look at me differently.”

Oli huffs a laugh. “Atlas, you’re a fucking mess and I know it. We all know it. How else would I look at you?”

“You’re not some broken fucking doll,” Grey says. “We don’t look at you like you’re broken. We look at you like someone who’s been hurting a really long time. Someone who needs help but won’t ask for it and instead runs away from his problems.”

My throat tightens. “It doesn’t change what happened.”

“No, you’re right, and I’m sorry. I can’t take that pain away from you.” Grey gets up before crouching down in front of me, and I look at his knee. “I’m fine. Good as almost new.” He smiles softly. “You can’t change what happened, but you can change how you live going forward.”

“Like maybe not hiding all this shit to yourself anymore.” Oli nudges me. “Atlas?”

I swallow hard, shaking my head. “I hate you both so much.” I laugh, but it breaks apart. I’m engulfed on both sides by the biggest idiots I’ve ever met.

“Yeah, well, we love you right back.” Grey grips the back of my neck. “We’re not letting you run anymore, Atlas.”

It’s nearly midnight now and Gage is still passed out. It’s been a long week, a longer day. It’s been a long fucking life.