Page 133 of These Wicked Hearts

He licks his lips then cups my face in his large hands. I watch his throat bob while he finds the courage to say whatever he needs to. “I think I’m . . . I mean I know that I . . .” He looks away then back at me again. “I know what I said. I mean, this was my idea. That damn whiteboard.” I laugh. “I had a great plan. Thought it was foolproof.”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know if I can stay just strangers with you.”

“You do seem to know a lot about me.”

“Not enough. I want to know everything.” He takes my hand in his, bringing my palm to his lips. “Gage, I think I’m—” A knock on my bedroom door pulls us apart. “Who the fuck is that?” Knocks sound again and I’m frozen here against him. “What’s going on? How is someone here?”

I’m frozen. “I don’t⁠—”

“Gage!” The familiar voice sickens me. The knocks echo louder as another round rattles the door. My stomach sinks with every one.

“Who is that?” His eyes widen and I don’t know what to do. I should have broken this off yesterday. I shouldn’t even have gone with him. It was just supposed to be an escape, to think about what I can do, but instead I got way more than I wanted.

I got him, and now I’m going to lose him.

“Gage—”

I ignore Atlas and get out of bed, finding my clothes and tugging them on. “Please get dressed.” I feel hollow, my chest tightening as my brain tries to work through the ice freezing it.

“What’s going on?”

I look at Atlas, pulling my shirt over my head as I watch him slowly dress. I walk to the door and look back at him while he tugs his shirt over his head.

I’m going to miss him so much.

Another knock rattles the door. I swallow the thought and take a deep breath and look at him. His lips part slightly, like he wants to ask again, but I cut him off. I crack the door enough to speak through it. “I’ll be out in a minute.” I don’t wait for Jim to respond before I slam it shut.

My pulse spikes, my head swims. There’s no use trying to make sense of this. I should have ended this weeks ago.

“What the fuck is going on?” Atlas looks at me, raking his large hand through his hair. I can’t ignore the hurt in his eyes.

I’m fucked.

Atlas is going to find out. He’s going to be disgusted. I’m going to disappoint him.

“Gage,” he says softly. “What the hell is going on?”

I press my forehead against the door and force myself to breathe. Think. Think. My mind is reeling too fast. There’s no fixing this. I glance back toward Atlas, his beautiful eyes filled with confusion.

I hate myself for what I’m about to do.

A million thoughts crash through me at once.

Tell him. Lie. Run. Fight. End it.

Maybe part of me always knew I’d end up here eventually, because I’m a coward. Maybe I waited so long for everything to explode on its own so I didn’t have to do it myself. There’s no hiding anymore. The door vibrates again under Jim’s fist, but all I see is Atlas. My beautiful broken boy who deserves more love and care than I’m capable of giving him.

I love him, but I can’t risk the band.

I can’t risk my friends and their dreams. We’ve worked so hard for this, five years under Jim’s thumb. So I swallow the bile crawling up my throat and steel my spine.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.

Then I open the door.

Jim stands there, looking furious, his red face blotched with rage. His brown hair, peppered with gray, is a bit erratic, like he’s had his fingers traveling through it. I push past him smoothly before he can look too closely at me. I shut it down. All the emotion, the warmth, and the love that Atlas gives me. I shut it all out.