Page 10 of His to Save
I down the rest of my beer, trying like hell to keep my cool. But Scarlet almost seems hungry for a fight. “I’m struggling here, Scar. Help me out.”
“If we fucked tonight, would you think about her then too? Would you call her name out when you came?”
“What in the actual hell is wrong with you?” I ask, horrified by what she’s implying.
“I’m just saying you seem a littletooconcerned.”
“Get up,” I growl, already moving forward.
Scarlet scrambles out of the booth and I stalk past her, heading toward the bar without sparing her so much as a second glance.
“Atlas! Wait!” she hollers after me, but I keep on, determined to settle our tab and leave. This whole night has been a dumpster fire, start to finish.
“Another round?” the bartender asks.
“Cash me out.” I pull out my wallet and pass him my card.
I feel someone tug on my shirt as I sign the bill, and I turn to find Scarlet behind me, her eyes wet with tears.
“Please, Atlas, I didn’t mean?—”
“Mean it or not, you said it. You’ve been itching for a fight all night, so you went low to get a reaction out of me.”
She sucks her wobbling lower lip between her teeth and glances down at the sticky bar floor.
“I can give you a ride home or you can call an Uber. Either way, I’m out.”
“You don’t mean that,” she whispers, looking up at me from beneath damp lashes.
“I really do.” I slide my phone out of my pocket, tap open the rideshare app, and tilt my screen toward her. “Now, what’ll it be?”
Right before my eyes, her melancholy and regret morphs into anger. “You’re a real piece of work, Atlas Wallace!” she shouts, garnering us more than a few stares before turning and storming off.
“Guess she’ll find her own way home,” I mutter, closing out of the app and opening my text thread with Ellis.
Me
Heading home. Pissed Scarlet off, nuclear level. Keep an eye out?
Miraculously, he texts me back instantly.
Ellis
10-4. Eyes on her now at the table. Drive safe.
With that settled, I slide my phone back into my pocket and head for my truck. This whole night’s been shit, and the only thing that sounds remotely appealing is climbing into my bed and conking out until morning.
The drive home feels longer than usual, and by the time I make it through the front door and into my room, I’m exhausted.
After brushing my teeth, I strip down to my boxers and all but collapse onto my bed. My eyelids are already heavy as I slip beneath the covers, but as I slide my arm beneath my pillow for support, my fingers brush against something hard.
Nora’s diary.
And just like that, I’m wide awake and flipping to where I left off.
DIARY ENTRY, AGE 13
Dear Diary,
