She looks momentarily satisfied by that response, but there’s a flicker of something in her face before she looks away. I can’t tell if it’s concern or sadness. I don’t ask her, because I know this is hard for her. I imagine the idea of any man bringing me lunch who isn’t Ryle probably makes her a little sad.

In Allysa’s idea of a perfect world, she would have a brother who never hurt me, and I would still be her sister-in-law.

Chapter Seven Atlas

“When you’re working with flounder, always hold your knife like this.” I demonstrate how to start with the dull end at the tail, but Theo looks away as soon as I begin to scale the fish.

“Gross,” he mutters, covering his mouth. “I can’t.” Theo moves to the other side of the counter, putting space between himself and the cooking lesson.

“I’m only scaling it. I haven’t even cut it open yet.”

Theo makes a gagging sound. “I have no interest in working with food. I’ll stick to being your therapist.” Theo pushes himself onto the counter. “Speaking of, did you ever text Lily?”

“I did.”

“She text you back?”

“Sort of. It was a short text, so I decided to take her lunch today to see where her head is at.”

“That was a bold move.”

“I’ve spent my life not making bold moves when it comes to her. I wanted to make sure she knew where I stood this time.”

“Oh no,” Theo says. “What cheesy thing did you say to her about fish and beaches and shores?”

I never should have told him what I said to Lily about finally reaching the shore. I’m not going to hear the end of it. “Shut up. You’ve probably never even spoken to a girl; you’re twelve.”

Theo laughs, but then I notice an awkwardness settle over him when he thinks I’m not looking. He grows quiet, despite the ruckus going on around us. There are at least five other people in the kitchen right now, but everyone is so focused on their work, no one is paying attention to the conversation I’m having with Theo.

“You like someone?” I ask him.

He shrugs. “Kinda.”

The discussions I have with Theo are usually one-sided. As much as he likes to ask questions, he doesn’t answer very many, so I tread carefully. “Oh yeah?” I try to act casual with my response so he’ll expand. “Who is she?”

Theo is looking down at his hands. He’s picking at his thumbnail, but I can see his shoulders sink a little after my question, like I did something wrong.

Or said something wrong.

“Or he,” I clarify. I whisper it to be sure he’s the only one who hears it.

Theo’s eyes dart up to mine.

He doesn’t have to confirm or deny anything. I can see the truth written in the fear that’s resting behind his eyes. I give my attention back to the fish I’m preparing, and as nonchalantly as possible, I say, “Do you go to school with him?”