Unexpected Home

Chapter Eighteen — Get In The Car-Atlas

Things with Josiah had been going well.

Better than well, actually.

I liked our lunches.

I liked them more than I should.

Every weekend I was in Los Angeles, I tried to make sure I had time for one.

Sometimes I had to rearrange my schedule.

Sometimes I had to fly back from New York.

Sometimes I was coming from Vegas.

Sometimes I was barely home long enough to sleep before another meeting pulled me somewhere else.

But whenever I was in town on a weekend, I wanted that lunch.

I wanted his apartment.

His food.

The quiet.

Him sitting across from me.

Nothing complicated.

No pressure.

No expectations.

Just lunch.

We weren’t friends.

At least, I didn’t think we were.

Friends talked more.

Friends knew things about each other.

I barely knew anything about Josiah outside of the hospital, his cooking, and whatever small pieces of himself he casually gave me during those lunches.

But I valued those hours.

I cherished them.

And I didn’t know when that had happened.

I just knew it had.

Maybe because I didn’t have to be Atlas Reed around him.

I could sit there without talking.

I could listen to him talk about some ridiculous case at the hospital.

I could ask how work was going.

He’d ask about my businesses.

Sometimes we’d laugh.

Sometimes we’d eat almost the entire meal without saying much.

And somehow, that silence felt better than most conversations I’d had in my life.

I had gotten used to it.

I had gotten used to him.

That was probably my first mistake.

Because Friday night reminded me exactly how dangerous getting used to someone could be.

I had been at one of my restaurants in Los Angeles.

I wasn’t planning to stay.

I only needed to pick up some documents from the manager before heading to the club.

I walked through the restaurant, greeting a few people as I passed.

It was busy.

Friday night.

Tables were full.

Music played softly in the background.

People were laughing.

Talking.

Drinking.

Normal.

I was halfway toward the private office when I saw him.

Josiah.

I stopped walking.

For a second, I genuinely thought I was imagining him.

Then I saw the man sitting across from him.

Dr. Turner.

The same man from the gala.

The same man who had been standing too close.

The same man I had spent the entire night pretending I wasn’t watching.

My stomach dropped.

What the f**k?

I stood there.

Just stood there.

Watching.

Josiah was smiling.

Laughing.

He looked comfortable.

Happy.

And Turner was looking at him like he had every right to be sitting there.

My jaw tightened.

I remembered earlier that day.

I had texted Josiah.

Nothing important.

Just a casual message.

What are you doing today?

He had replied.

I’m at the hospital. I’ll probably just go home later.

Home.

I stared at him now.

This was not home.

This was my restaurant.

And he was sitting here with that man.

A strange feeling moved through me.

Anger.

Confusion.

Jealousy.

It all hit at once.

I had spent weeks telling myself I wasn’t jealous.

That I had no reason to care.

That Josiah and I were nothing.

That whatever happened between him and Turner had nothing to do with me.

Apparently, I’d been lying to myself.

Because watching them together made something inside me burn.

I couldn’t look away.

Turner said something.

Josiah laughed.

Again.

I hated that laugh.

Not because there was anything wrong with it.

Because I wanted to be the reason for it.

That realization hit me hard.

I didn’t like it.

Not one f*****g bit.

Then Turner reached across the table.

He took Josiah’s hand.

I froze.

Josiah looked down at their hands.

Turner smiled.

And then he lifted Josiah’s hand toward his lips.

That was it.

Something snapped.

I didn’t think.

I didn’t reason.

I didn’t care who was watching.

I walked straight toward them.

Fast.

My footsteps must have caught their attention because Josiah looked up.

His eyes widened when he saw me.

“Atlas?”

I reached the table.

Turner looked at me.

“Mr. Reed—”

I didn’t answer him.

I grabbed Josiah’s hand.

“Atlas, what—”

“Come with me.”

“What?”

I pulled him away from the table.

Not hard enough to hurt him, but with enough force that there was no misunderstanding.

He stumbled slightly as he stood.

“Atlas!”

Turner stood.

“Hey.”

I stopped.

I turned slowly.

And looked at him.

I didn’t say anything.

I didn’t have to.

Whatever he saw in my face made him stop.

My anger was raw.

Uncontrolled.

The kind of anger I usually kept buried beneath years of discipline.

Turner looked at me.

Then at Josiah.

“This is a private dinner.”

I stared at him.

“I don’t care.”

Josiah looked completely confused.

“Atlas, what are you doing?”

I looked at him.

His face was flushed.

His eyes were wide.

He had no idea what was happening.

Neither did I.

Not really.

I only knew that I couldn’t stand there another second watching him with that man.

I turned and started walking.

“Atlas.”

He followed because I was still holding his hand.

“Atlas, wait.”

I didn’t stop.

We walked through the restaurant.

People stared.

I didn’t care.

We reached the entrance.

The cool night air hit my face.

I finally released his hand.

He immediately turned toward me.

“What is going on?”

I looked at him.

He looked genuinely confused.

And suddenly, the reality of what I’d just done started catching up with me.

I’d walked into my own restaurant.

Seen Josiah with another man.

Lost my temper.

Pulled him away from the table.

And dragged him outside.

What the f**k was wrong with me?

“Atlas?”

I looked toward the parking lot.

My car was waiting.

I needed distance.

I needed to get away from that restaurant before I did something even more irrational.

“Josiah.”

“Yes?”

My voice came out lower than I intended.

“Please get in the car.”

He blinked.

“What?”

“Get in the car.”

His expression changed.

“Why?”

“Now, Josiah.”

The rawness in my voice finally made him stop asking questions.

I opened the passenger door.

He stared at me.

I could see the hesitation.

I understood it.

I probably looked insane.

Maybe I was.

But I needed him away from that restaurant.

Away from Turner.

Away from whatever the f**k had just happened.

“Please.”

That one word came out quieter.

Josiah looked at me for another moment.

Then, thankfully, he got in.

I closed the door.

Walked around to the driver’s side.

Got in.

Shut the door.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

I started the engine.

Josiah looked at me.

“Where are we going?”

I didn’t answer immediately.

I pulled out of the parking lot.

I wasn’t going to the apartment.

I wasn’t going back across the hall.

I wasn’t going anywhere near that restaurant again tonight.

I was taking him to my private house.

Somewhere quiet.

Somewhere away from everyone.

Somewhere I could finally figure out what the hell was happening to me.

Josiah looked at me again.

“Atlas.”

I kept my eyes on the road.

“What?”

“Are you okay?”

I almost laughed.

No.

I wasn’t.

Not even remotely.

Because five months ago, Josiah Ashford had been a stranger who accidentally broke into my apartment.

Three months ago, he had become the man who occasionally ate lunch with me.

And somewhere along the way, without asking permission, without warning, without me even noticing…

he had become important.

Important enough that seeing another man touch him had made me lose control.

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel.

I didn’t know what I was going to say when we got there.

I didn’t know what I was going to do.

But one thing was certain.

Tonight, I was finally going to have to face the question I’d been avoiding for weeks.

Why the hell did I care so much about Josiah?