Page 60 of Atone

It’s not that I don’t want him to join me, but I don’t need him thinking I’m weak and need someone trailing me like I’m some damsel in distress.

Alex stares out the window as I drive toward his parents’ house. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s tense about where we’re going. His shoulders snap straighter with every turn, and his knuckles are white with how hard he grips his thigh.

Although, I can’t figure out why.

His parents funded his recovery. And, according to Patience, made sure he had everything he could ever ask for after what happened. I always assumed he was close with them, even if Patience wasn’t.

When Alex’s fingers clench for the tenth time, I dare to reach over and rest my palm over his left hand, fully prepared for him to pull away when my skin meets his scars.

Alex flinches at my touch, his eyes darting to mine. But instead of recoiling, he rolls his hand so our palms meet. It’s a small gesture, but the fact that he accepts it doesn’t escape me.

My attention returns to the road as Alex slowly threads our fingers together. There’s always a line with him. One I’m desperate to cross, no matter how much I’m trying to respect his boundaries. And he holds me right on the other side.

When I make the final turn into the Lancasters’ neighborhood, I return both hands to the steering wheel and follow the long road that extends the length of their property. It’s a good stretch before we finally reach the main driveway, and when we do, a gate looms, separating the property from the road.

My parents never had money like this, so I hope it doesn’t show that I’m out of place here.

The pavement changes to a herringbone pattern of brick, drawing a beautiful contrast to the large iron posts that frame the gate. I’m about to press the button to roll down my window when the gate swings open.

Alex’s jaw tenses as I pull the car forward again.

The driveway is nearly as long as the road that wraps around the north side of the grounds. It twists and turns with the tree line until the house comes into view.

Housebeing an understatement.

It’s four stories tall and fills the center of the property. White brick arches frame every tall window, and the gray roof is brand new. The shingles are almost silver with how they sparkle under the sun.

After going to Teal’s parents’ house once, I assumed nothing could surprise me. But the Lancaster residence makes the Donovans’ seem unimpressive.

I don’t realize I’m frozen until Alex pops the door open and climbs out first. He reaches into the backseat to grab the bag of books from the floor, then circles to open my door.

“Thank you.” I climb out, but he says nothing in return.

Not so much as a nod in response as he closes it and stays at my side while I walk up the driveway. The front door opens before we reach it.

“Alex.” A blonde woman steps outside, and I immediately recognize her as Ursa Lancaster, Alex’s mother.

I’ve seen pictures of her and his father, Gideon, but even if I hadn’t, Patience shares many of her features. White-blonde hair tied in a middle-of-the-skull ponytail, a sharp nose, and a skeptical stare.

Ursa walks toward us. Her pale skin makes her golden eyes seem brighter. When her gaze flicks between me and Alex, her eyebrows narrow just slightly.

I wait for Ursa to rush to her son and hug him, but she stops a few feet away, twisting the cross dangling from her necklace.

“You didn’t say you were stopping by.” Her initial excitement is tempered by something else as she glances around the empty driveway. “It’s no problem, of course. I can have Samantha prepare lunch.”

Alex stares at his mom in silence.

“That’s okay.” I step forward when I realize Alex has no intention of saying anything to her. “We were just dropping off a few books for Patience.”

I grab the bag off Alex’s shoulder, and he does nothing to stop me as I take it. If it weren’t for the rise and fall ofhis chest, I’d swear he was a statue. One who looks almost irritated as he stares at his mother.

“Patience?” Ursa’s eyebrows shoot up as her attention turns to me. “Of course, she forgot to bring them back herself.”

There’s venom in her tone. Annoyance in her dismissive gaze.

Patience is an honor student. She never gets into trouble. She follows rules to a fault. And now I see where those mile-high expectations might come from.

Ursa grabs the bag of books, grumbling something under her breath.

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