Romy swallowed and remained mute. Lucas had more power at his back than the small camp of Jimboomba. Though maybe she should say something, she thought. Maybe Atlas could help her? Her head throbbed; she just wasn’t sure about anything.

He circled his desk. “Houston told me about your conversation yesterday.”

Hurt rocked through Romy. Houston told Atlas? “He did?” Mortification stung her, but anger quickly overrode it.

Atlas looked a little regretful at revealing the information. “He did. Because he was worried as to why you’d ask those questions in the first place. If anyone has touched you like that . . . I need a name, Rosemary.”

She could feel something building in response to the rawness of his voice. Romy tried to choke it back. But all at once, everything—crashing, the changing dynamic of their knot, the soldier, Houston telling Atlas—it was too much. “My name is Romy,” she shouted.

To her horror, tears began to slide down her cheeks. Thick, childish, stupid tears that made her look like a thick, childish, stupid girl. Why did this have to happen in front of him? Romy covered her face—as though that would hide her breakdown.

Atlas approached. His hands hesitantly brushed up her arms. When she didn’t move, he enclosed her in his embrace. She’d like nothing more than to tilt her head up. But the knowledge that Atlas was with Tina stopped her.

“Why won’t you tell me?” he said hoarsely.

This Atlas she could care for. The one who worried for her, and allowed himself to smile that smile. She could get used to the sight of him in his singlet and camos, hair tousled from where he ran his hands through too often. She could get used to the way his grey eyes clouded over when his worries melted away. She could care for this man and his wry sense of humour. But she couldn’t like the other cold man, who ignored her and treated her like a child. The one who hid the truth from her and pushed her away. Which man was he? Romy lingered far too long in his arms before she pulled away. She dropped her hands from her damp face.

“Because I am protecting the people I love,” she whispered back.

“I can protect them for you.” His earnest eyes tore at her heart.

She shook her head. And realised he wasn’t going to let her leave. Romy took two steps back and wiped her tears.

She intended her next words to be harsh, to put him off, but in some ways she meant every word.

“Why would I let you?” she asked. “When I don’t know who you really are. . . .”

* * *