Page 82 of Killer Confections
So much fucking blood.
I don’t realize I’m sobbing hysterically until large, callused hands cup my cheeks and force my head up. I stare into a soft, worried expression I know all too well, and my mind quiets for a moment.
“Breathe with me, baby,” Atlas begs lowly as his thumbs stroke the apples of my cheeks. He takes slow, deep breaths, showing me the motions.
I nod, following his lead as he holds my focus. Nothing else around us exists as he helps me back to the present.
“There you are,” he smiles. “There’s my girl.”
“Atlas,” my lips tremble around his name, sounding like a desperation instead of damnation.
“It’s me, baby,” he confirms, speaking softly, as if he’s afraid to ruin the moment. “You were right from the beginning.”
I nod, everything crashing into me so heavily I know my brain is refusing to process any of it. The pain I’m still feeling mixed with the remnants of adrenaline and just the shock is making me shut down. I feel my heart slow in my chest. “I’m going to pass out.”
“That’s okay,” he says quickly. “I’m going to catch you, Short Stack.”
“Don’t let me fall,” I beg as my eyes flutter.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
And that’s the last thing I hear before I slump forward and my world goes black.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Loxley
I wake with a start, pushing the thick comforter off of me as I bolt upright in the unfamiliar bed. Black sheets and a duvet pool around my waist as I blink my eyes profusely into the afternoon light shining through the window.
The onslaught of memories that flood my mind are like living a nightmare, but one in particular sticks out.
Seeing Atlas’s concerned, soft face as he held me tightly.
If I hadn’t been in so much shock, I would have been breathless at his beauty. He’s rugged, all sharp angles, stubble, and wicked eyes, but the way he was looking at me was like he found salvation. Like he knew he was in deep shit and would have to repent for what he’s done.
Because what the fuck…
The blood, gore, and screams all come rushing back and I close my eyes as my stomach churns unpleasantly. I press my hands to either side of my nose, willing myself to breathe through the nausea.
Think of literally anything else, Loxley.
I release a slow breath, finally opening my eyes and nearly gasping at the quaint, cozy room I’m tucked away in. The floors are a dark wood, but the walls are painted an eggshell white that makes the paintings and portraits pop against them. The furniture, two end tables next to the four-poster bed I’m in and a massive wooden dresser are all rustic and look like they were priceless treasures found at an antique shop. Across from me, there’s a tall window with a sliding glassdoor that overlooks acres of beautifully kept property with wildflowers and the occasional tree to tie this rural oasis all together.
It’s breathtaking.
It’s something I always imagined myself owning once Sweet Haven got off the ground.
I slowly slide out of bed, looking down when the cool air hits my bare legs. I’m in a pair of comfortable cotton shorts and a large heavy metal band T-shirt that swallows me. The scent clinging to it, something deep and masculine that I’ve smelled a lot of over the last week, wafts to me and I deduce it belongs to Atlas.
I let my feet flatten to the hardwood floors, giving myself just a second to gather my senses before standing and stopping in my tracks once again as I spot the picture hanging above the dresser.
It’s slightly blurry, because we were moving too much while I was taking it, but I recognize Atlas and I’s baby faces instantly. One of my arms is wrapped around his neck while the other holds the camera out in front of us. We were supposed to press our cheeks together and smile, but I’m leaning over his shoulder as I fuss at him for not looking at the camera.
He wouldn’t look at all and every time I would try to take a picture, he was always staring at me with this soft, tender expression. It flustered the hell out of me, making butterflies swarm my gut…
“He’s kept this all these years…” I run my fingers along the thick black frame that surrounds the memory, my mind running through that day. It was picture day at school and only my parents had paid for my headshots. Atlas was left out, stuck on the sidelines as he waited for the multitude of classes to finish.
I hated when he was left out. It made my chest ache and left me feeling sick. I wouldn’t stand for his whole childhood to be erased into nothing, so I took it upon myself for us to haveour own photo shoot.
