Series: Peach State Stepbros Series by Riley Hart
Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
*
I’ve done a pretty good job avoiding Troy over the last week or so. I don’t know what he’s been doing, and I’m okay with that. The fantasy still has me feeling some kinda something I’m not sure how to put into words, so I do my best to pretend it didn’t happen.
I have no issues if I realize I’m attracted to men, but I’m one hundred percent not supposed to want to do it with my stepbrother. That’s the part that’s fucking with my head.
I’m back today at Activate Kindness. We had an anonymous donation for a social night. There’s food out for everyone to eat their fill, and the room is packed with those in need—some homeless, some not. I think people tend to forget that it’s not only homeless who are insecure when it comes to basic needs. There are people in this room who work two jobs but still can’t always make ends meet.
“Hi.”
I look down to see a little girl staring up at me. “Hi.”
“I’m Wendy.”
“I’m Atlas.”
She wrinkles her little nose. “That’s a funny name.”
“Oh my gosh, Wendy.” A woman I assume is Wendy’s mom approaches. “You can’t say stuff like that to people. It’s rude.” Then to me, “I’m so sorry.” She’s wearing a shirt from a local diner, with a grease stain on her stomach and a nametag on the upper side. She must be a waitress there or something. She probably spent all day around food and then had to come here to eat. What a fucked-up world we live in.
I wave off her concern. “It’s fine. It is a strange name.” My gaze finds Wendy’s again. “Atlas was a Titan.”
“What’s a Titan?” she questions, and her mom and I chuckle. I begin to explain, but she soon cuts me off, clearly finding it boring. “Do you wanna play with me?”
“Oh, honey. He’s working. I doubt he can do that,” her mom says, giving me an excuse to say no.
“I don’t mind,” I tell her, “if you’re okay with it.”
She smiles. “Thank you, Atlas. I’m Naomi.”
“Nice to meet you.”
Wendy leads us to a table where we eat cookies and play with Legos. I build her a princess, which Wendy goes wild over.
In these moments, it’s easy to forget everything else, to try and pretend none of the bad shit happened. That my dad isn’t the world’s biggest prick. That my mom didn’t die…
I shake off those thoughts.
I only hang out with Wendy and Naomi for about half an hour, but I discover that Naomi lost her second job recently and is struggling.
“I’m really sorry. I know that has to be difficult. Sometimes it feels like the system is set up to keep people down.”
“It really does. It doesn’t help that I didn’t finish high school. My mom didn’t either. I want something different for Wendy.”
“And you’ll get it. You’re doing all the right things.” My words feel useless. I wish I had more to offer. Poverty is a cycle, tending to repeat for generation after generation. “Thank you for sharing with me.”
We stand up and say goodbye. The moment feels both light and heavy. Her life isn’t easy, but being here, talking like this with her, it means something to me. These are the real parts of me that matter—and then I remember that I might have to share this with Troy. The thought makes me raw, like I’ll be giving him a piece of myself that no one who really knows me has. That I’d never give to Glen or even Ellie because I can’t bear the thought of letting them inside.
When the event ends, all of us volunteers clean up. I head over to Dixon and tell him, “I got Troy.”
“No shit?” His eyes nearly glow.
Maybe I’m jumping the gun, but again, how in the fuck can Troy go from an F to an A? This bet is perfect for both of us—he’ll work hard to get a better grade to prove himself to me, and unless he’s a super genius and gets an A, I’ll get him to help with the auction.
But what if he does pull it off? Troy’s Mr. Perfect. If he pulls this off, he won’t participate in the auction. Raising money for those in need is the most important thing. Hell, I’ll participate myself if I have to. I can bring in just as much money as Troy, so if I can’t get him, as much as it will suck, I’ll step in and take his place.
“It’s under control,” I say with confidence.
“You’re the best, Atlas. Seriously. You do good work, and I appreciate how much you care.”
It’s not often I hear something like that, and I’m not sure how to react, so I just say, “Catch ya later, man,” and bail.
The second I’m in my car, my phone dings with a text. I groan. One moment I’m feeling like I’m doing something that matters, and one glance at Glen’s name and all that comes crashing down.