Page 26 of Guarded By Atlas

Marie

I spot the van just as I’m stepping outside the nursing home, and the smile on my face freezes, as does the rest of me. A low rumble vibrates through the pavement, and my breath hitches when I realize that it’s headed my way. My hands instinctively tighten on the strap of my purse and my knuckles turn white.

It’s approaching the curb, its shape instantly triggering a wave of icy fear that washes over me. The world narrows and the sounds of the city fade as I stare at the one object capable of arousing such fear in me.

A white van.

My eyes dart around, searching for a way to escape as the van slows down. I should turn around and run back into the nursing home and call my husband. He won’t let anyone take me. I just know Atlas will lose his mind if someone dares to lay a hand on me.

And yet, I’m frozen in place. I grip my purse tighter, the leather cool and slick against my clammy palms. I can’t scream, my throat feels like it’s been constricted by an invisible hand.

Then the van stops. The side door opens with a mechanical hiss, but no hooded figures jump out. Two people step out wearing matching uniforms, and for the first time, I notice the words stamped on the side of the white van. “Elite Furniture Delivery.” Relief floods through me, making my legs weak, and Iwould have fallen to the ground if a pair of arms hadn’t caught me.

“Hey, it’s okay, sweetheart,” rasps a familiar deep voice before I feel the press of lips against my temple.

“I’m fine,” I assure him even as I wrap my arms around him, burying my face into his neck and inhaling his scent, letting it soothe me. “I’m okay, I promise you.”

And the truth is, I’ve been okay for a while. Atlas bullied, bribed, and cajoled me into talking to someone, and despite my reluctance, it worked. I haven’t had a single nightmare of the kidnappings in over a year, and I even manage to sleep well in our bed alone when he has to work out of town. The van today was unexpected. My therapist did warn me that something could always trigger the memories.

“I’m here,” Atlas whispers into my hair, running a soothing hand down my back until the tremors fade. “I’m always watching you, okay? Just remember that.”

I nod, feeling steady on my feet again as I push from the embrace to look at him. Christ, he looks so freaking handsome with his dark, buzzed hair and vibrant green eyes so beautiful they send my heart racing. “Well, that was a little dramatic, wasn’t it?” I chuckle. “Anyway, I’m more than ready to go home. I just got my leave approved and will be free for the next fifteen days. I know you’re busy, but maybe you’ll have some free time and we could do something fun together.” Atlas takes my hand, and we walk to the parking lot. I look around for his bike but don’t spot it. “You didn’t bring your bike today?” I ask.

“No, I drove,” he says, walking me to a sleek black SUV and opening the door for me. The first thing I spot is the flowers on the seat with a card. For a panicked minute, I’m terrified that I forgot a birthday or an anniversary. His birthday is not until nextmonth, but our first wedding anniversary is coming up … God, what month are we in? Did I really forget?

“Honey, I…”

He must read the panic in my eyes because he breaks out laughing; the sound so warm, it makes my heart swell with affection. “Relax, sweetheart. The flowers are to celebrate the day we first met.”

I blink at the man. “You mean the day I was kidnapped and you rescued me?”

“Considering what happened just now, I’m starting to think of it as poor timing,” he says, looking sheepishly at me.

“I would say it’s rather poetic,” I respond as I reach for the bouquet of red roses and bring them to my nose. “Ironic, but poetic nonetheless. Thank you for the flowers. Now every time I think about vans, I’ll think of flowers instead of closets.”

“There’s a card too.”

“I didn’t know Hallmark made cards for such occasions,” I tease, reaching to grab it and expecting to read something cheesy and romantic when I see two airline tickets tucked inside. My jaw drops as I look from them to my husband. “W-what’s this?”

“Our honeymoon trip,” he says, brushing back my hair when it blows into my face. “Well, it’s a belated honeymoon trip since we’ve been married for almost a year now, but we never had a chance to go on an extended trip. I know you’ve always wanted to visit Barcelona.”

“We’re going to Spain?” I gasp, my jaw dropping at his words. “Really? Wait, what about… the club, Rusty?”

“Everything’s been taken care of, Sweetheart,” he assures me, cupping my jaw and leaning in to kiss me. “Rusty will staywith Chelsea while we’re away for the next two weeks. The girls have already packed for you, so all you need to do is change out of those scrubs, and we’ll be on our way to the airport.”

My eyes well up at all the effort he put into this, how he thought and timed it, and I try to stop the tears but they fall. “You always know just what I need.”

“You could say that I learned it from you,” my gentle giant whispers, brushing his finger over my wet cheeks. “Now, sweetheart, how about we get started on our belated honeymoon?”

“Yes, please.” I nod with a teary smile, climbing into the car, cradling the bouquet in my arms, and burying my nose in it. We make it to the clubhouse, and I have just enough time to grab a shower and change, thank the girls, and kiss Rusty goodbye before we’re driving toward the airport.

Three and a half hours later, we are finally seated in our first-class cabin. I let out a happy sigh as I sink into the plush, oversized seat, the soft leather molding to my form. I’m going to miss Debbie and the other patients, but I’ve been working without a break for months, so this is very much needed and deserved.

The flight attendants, impeccably dressed and with kind smiles, move through cabins, offering pre-departure drinks, so I wave one over, requesting two glasses of chilled champagne, intent on enjoying the ride with a bit of a buzz, and ten minutes later, I can already feel it take effect.

My gaze drifts to my husband and a fond smile touches my lips. I reach for his hand, interlacing it with mine. When the seatbelt sign turns off, I smile as the idea occurs to me. Atlas’s brows knit when I release his hand and get up. He grabs my arm before I can leave. “Hey, where are you going?”

“The bathroom,” I say with an innocent smile, and he lets me go. I walk into one and wait, knowing fully well it won’t take him long to come looking for me, and just as I expected, I hear him outside. I open the door a little, make sure it’s him before reaching out to grab my husband’s arm and pulling him in. It’s a tight fit for someone as huge as my husband, but fortunately, the first-class bathrooms on luxury airlines are bigger. “I knew you’d come.”

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