I help Josh to his feet. His phone is a few feet away on the floor, so I grab it and hand it to him, then urge him toward the door.

Sutton realizes what’s happening, and she jumps off the bed. She’s following us out the door. “Bring him back!” I feel her hands on me now. She’s yanking at my shirt, trying to get me to stop or move aside so she can get to Josh.

I urge him forward. “Go to the car.” He continues toward the stairs, and then I stop walking and spin around to face her. She sucks in a quick gasp after seeing the absolute fury in my eyes. Then she slaps her palms against my chest and shoves me.

“He’s my son!” she yells. “I’ll call the police!”

I release an exasperated laugh. I want to tell her to call the police. I want to scream at her. But most of all, I want to get Josh away from her. She’s not going to ruin his life on my watch.

I don’t even have the energy to say anything to her at all. This woman isn’t worth my words. I just walk away, leaving her screaming at me like old times.

Josh is already sitting in the front seat of my car when I make it back. I slam my door and grip my steering wheel with both hands before starting the car. I need to calm myself down before I get back on the road.

Josh seems unusually calm for what just happened. It makes me wonder if that’s an average interaction between them because he isn’t even breathing heavily. He’s not crying. He’s not cussing. He’s just watching me, and I realize how I react in this moment is quite possibly something he’ll absorb for a lifetime.

I slide my hands down the steering wheel and calmly exhale.

Josh’s cheek is red, and there’s a small gash on his forehead that’s bleeding. I retrieve a napkin from the glove box and hand it to him, then flip the visor down so he can see where to wipe.

“I saw her slap you, but where’d the cut come from?”

“I think I hit the TV stand.”

Slow and steady, Atlas. I put my car in reverse and back out of the parking lot. “Maybe we should swing by the emergency room and have them check out your cut. Make sure you don’t have a concussion.”

“It’s okay. I can usually tell when it’s a concussion.”

He can usually tell? I clench my jaw as soon as he says that. I realize I have absolutely no idea what kind of hell this kid has already been through, and I was about to send him right back into the fire. “Better to be safe,” I say, but what I mean is, Better to get this documented in case we need proof of her abuse at a later date.

Chapter Eighteen Lily

It’s been five days since I’ve seen Atlas. I try not to stress over how busy we are because I know it’ll get better once I’m comfortable enough to let him spend time around Emmy. But the responsible thing to do is to let Emmy’s father know when I start seeing someone else before I bring anyone around her.

It’s just frustrating that the responsible thing to do is also a terrifying thing to do. I plan to put it off for as long as possible. There’s no shame in being patient.

The flower shop is understaffed this week with Lucy’s upcoming wedding, and Atlas has been dealing with legal stuff regarding custody, running two businesses, and taking care of a kid. On top of all that, the fever my mother had last week turned into the full-fledged flu, so she hasn’t been able to watch Emmy at all. I’ve brought her with me two out of the three days I’ve worked this week.

It’s just been a week from hell. Too busy to even get a drive-by hug.

Ryle and Marshall took the girls to the zoo today. Emmy is more than likely too young to enjoy it, so it should make for an interesting day for Ryle.

The custody exchange was fine this morning, even though we haven’t spoken since our conversation on the roof last week about her middle name. He was a little curt, but I prefer his curtness to the subtle passes he sometimes still makes at me.

Allysa is working with me today since she doesn’t have Rylee. She just returned with coffee now that we’re caught up on everything. We got all our orders out with the delivery truck an hour ago, so this is the first time we’ve actually had time to speak in private since my date with Atlas last week.

Allysa hands me my coffee and then taps the mouse on the computer to check for new online orders.

“What are you wearing to Lucy’s wedding?” I ask her.

“We’re not going.”

“What?”

“We can’t. It’s my parents’ fortieth wedding anniversary. Ryle and I are doing that surprise dinner.”

She told me about that, but I had no idea it was the same day as Lucy’s wedding.

“It’s the only evening Ryle could get away,” she says.

I deflate. I hate Ryle’s schedule. I know it’ll get better over time, when he’s no longer one of the newest surgeons on staff, but even when his hours aren’t making custody difficult, he’s making my best friend choose between a wedding and her parents.

I know it’s not Ryle’s fault, but I like silently blaming stuff on him that he has no control over. It feels good.

“Does Lucy know you aren’t going?”

Allysa nods. “She’s fine with it. Two less mouths to feed.” She takes a sip of her coffee. “Are you taking Atlas?”

“I didn’t invite him. I thought you and Marshall were going, and I didn’t want to ask you and Marshall to lie for me again.” I felt bad that I asked Allysa to watch Emmy last week for my date because I knew she’d have to lie to Ryle if it came up. And she did end up having to lie to him.

“When are you planning to tell Ryle you’re back on the dating scene?”

I groan. “Do I have to?”

“He’ll find out eventually.”

“I wish I could just pretend I was dating some guy named Greg. I don’t know that he’d be as threatened by a Greg. Maybe I don’t have to be specific about who I’m dating, and he won’t be as angry. I’ll ease him into the knowledge of it being Atlas after a decade or two.”

Allysa laughs, but then she looks at me curiously. “Why does Ryle hate Atlas so much, anyway?”

“He didn’t like that I kept mementos from back when Atlas and I dated.”

Allysa is staring at me. Waiting. “What else?”

I shake my head. There’s nothing else. “What do you mean?”

“Did you cheat on Ryle with Atlas?”

“What? No. God, no. I never would have done that to Ryle.” I’m a little offended by her question, but then again I’m not. Ryle’s reaction would naturally make anyone question what led to that kind of reaction.

Allysa’s eyes are swimming in puzzlement. “I still don’t get it. If you weren’t actively cheating on him with the guy, why does Ryle hate him?”

I release an exaggerated sigh. “I’ve asked myself that a million times, Allysa.”

She makes an annoyed face only siblings could reserve for each other. “I never wanted to ask because I thought you were ashamed that you cheated on my brother and just didn’t want to tell me.”

“I haven’t even kissed Atlas since I was sixteen. Ryle just couldn’t handle that my past sometimes crept into my present, in an absolutely platonic way.”

“Wait. You haven’t kissed Atlas since you were sixteen?” She latched on to the absolute wrong point of this conversation. “Not even on your date last week?”