Page 103 of When Love Found Us
“I think so.” My voice barely makes it past my lips, the fear curling around it, dragging it down. “Something happened. He might find me soon.”
Nysa swears under her breath. “Atlas is close by. Nothing’s going to happen.” A beat. Then, “The real question is, what’s your next move, Blythe?”
I turn toward the window. Outside, the lights of Birchwood Springs shimmer in the distance. My reflection stares back—eyes tired, face thinner than it was months ago as if parts of me have been carved away by the running, the waiting. My hand drifts to my stomach, whereourdaughter is growing.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “But I won’t run. Even if it might be safer for Atlas.” My throat tightens. “What if Winston hurts him?”
“Atlas is like a cockroach,” Nysa says, then lets out a short laugh. “I mean that in a good way. He’d survive the apocalypse.”
I don’t smile. “Not exactly reassuring.”
She sighs. “Sorry. That was insensitive. It’s just—he’s like my brother. The thought of him getting hurt—” She exhales loudly, and I understand why she’s trying to add some humor to this. We’re talking about Atlas and . . . yeah, the thought of him getting hurt is jarring. “Look, if you need to come here while he deals with your ex, you’re welcome.”
“I can’t do that,” I say instantly. “I won’t put you, Maddy, or Hopper in danger.”
“You wouldn’t be,” she argues. “We have security here—a lot of it. These Timberbridge men? They’re overprotective as fuck. After what happened to me, this place is basically a fortress. No one’s getting in.”
I should believe her and maybe accept her invitation. Should let that ease some of the fear clawing at me. But the only thing that feels certain right now is that Winston won’t stop until he finds me.
And Atlas . . .if I lost him . . . “I should just go,” I whisper. “Make sure none of you get caught in the crossfire. I care too much about you to let anything happen.”
“You’re not running anymore, Blythe,” she says, her voice gentler now. “You’re not that girl who barely made it through an abusive marriage. You’re stronger now, and you have people now. A family. Atlas.” A pause. Then, softer, “You have a baby on the way.”
My throat burns.
“I’m scared.”
“I know. But you don’t have to be,” she reminds me. “You’re not alone. If you want to fight, we’ll fight with you.”
I press my palm against my stomach. There’s a tiny movement beneath my touch—a flutter, a kick.
It steals my breath.
Our daughter. Our little person.
I don’t want to run.
I don’t want to hide.
I want to fight.
For her. For Atlas. For myself.
The tremor in my pulse fades, my breathing settling into something calmer, surer.
“I think I know what I have to do.”
Nysa doesn’t ask what. She just says, “Then do it, just be smart about it.”
A breath, long and steady. “Thank you.”
She snorts. “If you need more encouragement, I can go over and slap you into action.”
A laugh bursts out of me—real, unguarded. It startles me. Feels foreign for a second. Then good.
Like hope.
ChapterForty
