Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 68576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
He chuckled. “We have a thirty-minute drive. How about you enlighten me,” he suggested.
I glanced backward again to make sure we didn’t have any kids listening—we didn’t—and then let him have it.
“One, you’re allowing a pathological liar—literally, she was diagnosed with this as a child—deeper and deeper into your life. You’re protecting her, and she likes it. You’re falling for all of her lies. You’re treating her like a good person, and she’s not. If you knew even half the things that she’d done to me as a child, you wouldn’t be able to stand near her you’d be so disgusted,” I started.
“What’s a pathological liar?” Addison asked.
I closed my eyes.
“It’s a behavior where a person feels a compulsion to lie,” Atlas explained.
“Oh, like your compulsions?” Addison asked. “Like when you have to ring the doorbell three times? Or when you have to retrace your steps before you leave?”
“Kind of,” Atlas looked at me.
I’d known that he’d had issues.
I hadn’t realized he’d had OCD tendencies, though.
Maybe that was why he got along so well with my sister. Because she had issues like him.
Though, I was sure that Atlas’s issues didn’t ruin people’s lives like Sage’s.
“Okay.”
Atlas turned his gaze back to the road at Addison’s dismissal.
“Ask,” he suggested.
I shrugged. “I don’t need to.”
“I sleepwalk and I have OCD,” he said. “But over the years, I’ve mostly grown out of both. There are a few things that I can’t stop myself from doing, though. Bells are one of them.”
“Not a bad compulsion to have.” I shrugged, trying to act nonchalant when in reality I was so fucking happy that he was talking to me.
Trying to play the mean girl was exhausting.
I hated that he didn’t talk to me.
I hated that my sister got more of him than I did.
I hated even more that I cared.
“I used to have night terrors as a kid,” I said into the silence. “I also say weird stuff in my sleep. One time when I was fifteen, Sage recorded one of those times and posted it on the internet because she thought it was funny. It wasn’t funny, because I was in panties and a camisole, and I had a bunch of creeps comment about how sexy I was instead of laughing about what I was saying on the video.”
Atlas’s hands gripped the steering wheel tighter.
“There are hundreds more where that came from,” I told him. “And they’re way worse.”
I wouldn’t tell him, though.
Not with these kids around.
If he wanted to have a discussion about my sister, I’d give him a discussion.
“Maybe you’re just overexaggerating the things that you said she did,” he suggested.
That shut me down quickly.
Over the years, I’d had many people say that to me.
Friends.
Bosses.
A freakin’ pastor.
Eventually it got to the point where I didn’t tell anyone anything about what Sage did, because no one would believe me.
I wondered if Atlas would ever open his eyes all the way when it came to her.
Maybe I should follow my brothers’ advice and come home.
Maybe Atlas wasn’t worth it…
Dinner went well, all things considered.
I didn’t say much to Atlas, and he watched me like I was an interesting insect.
The drive home was silent, too, because I’d been asked by Catherine to come to the back to watch her favorite part of Moana with her.
When we arrived back at the house, a couple of the brothers were in the yard drinking a beer.
When we got there, I walked right up to Quincy and Quinn and said, “I appreciate you fixing my tires.”
“You were right, they were slashed on the inside,” he said. “How’d you know?”
I snorted. “Because that’s my sister’s signature move.”
I couldn’t count the number of times she’d done it to me.
In fact, at this point, I’d learned to get the insurance for all instances when it came to the tires I bought, that way they’d fix them for free with a small deductible.
“Ahh,” Quincy glanced at Atlas who was coming up behind me, and reaching into his pocket for my keys.
I clutched them with a tight fist, and said a couple more thank yous before high-tailing it to my car.
I was unsurprised to find him following behind me.
“Thanks for dinner,” I said as I unlocked my car and went to drop into it.
He caught me by the elbow before I could, and I turned, hating that I liked him so close.
“Just because I was nice to you today doesn’t mean that I like you.” He moved in closer.
Nice? He called what he was today nice?
I narrowed my eyes and lied through my teeth. “The feeling is mutual, Atlas Carter.”
“Good,” he stepped back, and I swayed toward him slightly before I caught myself and forced my body to take a couple of steps back.
“Be careful on the way home,” he ordered.
I rolled my eyes. “I am always careful, Atlas. Careful is my middle name.”