“No, I only got his address. I don’t know how to get in touch with him. But you were right: He’s in Vermont.” I can hear the dread Atlas is attempting to cover up in his voice all the way from his bedroom. God, I hate this for him.
I hear Josh running toward his room. “He is going to be so shocked!”
I finish packing with a heavier heart. When I walk back into the kitchen, Atlas is standing in front of the sink, staring out the window into his backyard. He doesn’t hear me, so I put my hand on his shoulder.
He immediately pulls me in and kisses me on the side of my head. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
He carries my bag to the car and places it in the backseat. I open my door, but we hug again before I climb inside.
This is the kind of hug Atlas gave me when he showed up at my apartment needing a hug that night. It’s long and sad, and I don’t want to let go of him. “What do you think is going to happen when you get there?” I ask.
Atlas finally releases me, but keeps his hand on my hip while he leans against my car. He sighs, threading his finger through a belt loop on my jeans. “I don’t know. Why do I feel so worried for him?”
“Because you love him.”
Atlas’s eyes scroll over my face. “Is that why I always feel worried for you? Because I love you?”
My breath hitches at his question. “I don’t know. Do you?”
Atlas digs his fingers into my waist, and he pulls me to him. He lifts his hand and traces a finger down my neck, until it meets my tattoo. “I’ve loved you for years and years and years, Lily. You know that.” He moves his finger and then kisses me there, and that move coupled with his words takes everything in me to keep my composure.
“I’ve loved you for just as long.”
Atlas nods. “I know you have. No one on this earth loves me like you do.” He cradles my head in both of his hands, and he tilts my face up to his and he kisses me. When he pulls back, he looks at me longingly, like I’ve already left and he’s already sad about it. Or maybe that’s just what I’m imagining he feels, since that’s what I feel.
“I’ll call you tonight. I love you.”
“I love you, too. Good luck today.”
I drive home with such conflicted feelings. Every moment with him over this last day was more than I could have hoped for, but knowing what he’s about to face makes my heart feel like a piece of it broke off and stayed with him.
I’m going to be thinking about him all day. I’m hoping they don’t find Tim, but if they do, I hope Josh makes the right decision.
Chapter Thirty-One Atlas
It’s a three-hour drive there. Josh hasn’t said much. He’s been reading, although if he’s as nervous as I am about this, I’m not sure he’s actually absorbing anything he’s reading. He’s been on the same page for five minutes. It’s a drawing of what looks like a battle scene, but mostly all I see is cleavage.
“Is that manga appropriate for a twelve-year-old?” I ask him.
He shifts ever so slightly so that the cover of the book is all I can see. “Yes.”
His voice dropped an entire octave on that lie. At least he’s a horrible liar. If he ends up staying with me, detecting when he is or isn’t telling me the truth should be easy.
If he ends up staying with me, maybe I should buy him a few self-help books for balance. I’ll stock his bookshelves with whatever graphic novels he wants, and then secretly slip in a few of my own to supplement my lack of skills as a guardian. Untamed, Man Enough, The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck. Heck, maybe even some sacred text from every major world religion. I’ll take whatever help I can get.
Especially after today. As much as Josh may think this is a one-way trip, I know in my heart he’s coming right back to Boston with me. I just hope he doesn’t come back kicking and screaming.
When the GPS says we’re turning onto the street, Josh’s hand tightens around his manga. He doesn’t look up from it, though, even though he still hasn’t turned the page. When I spot Tim’s address on the curb in front of a run-down frame house, I pull the car over. The house is across the street on the driver’s side, but Josh pretends to be sunk into his story.
“We’re here.”
Josh drops his book and finally looks up. I point to the house, and Josh stares at it for a good ten seconds. Then he puts the book in his backpack.
He brought most of his things with him. The clothes I bought him, some of the books. They’re all stuffed so tight in a backpack that barely zips, and he holds it in his lap with the hope that he has at least one parent that will take him.