Page 117 - It Ends with Us

The re ha ve been times I’ve wondered if I could ever al low myself to trust a

guy. For the most par t, I hat e men becau se the only exam ple I hav e is my fat he r.
Bu t spendi ng al l thi s time with Atlas is chan ging me. No t in a hu ge way, I
do n’t thi nk. I still di strust most people. Bu t Atlas is chan ging me enough to
believe that may be he ’s an exception to the norm.
He stopped kissing me an d picked up the bowl ag ai n. He wal ked it over to
the opposite counter an d star ted spooning do ugh onto two cookie she ets.

“You wan t to know a trick to cooking with a gas oven?” he as ked.
I’m not sure I real ly ever cared about cooking before, but he someho w made
me wan t to know ever ythi ng he knew. It might hav e been ho w hap py he looked
whe n he tal ked ab out it.
“Gas ovens hav e ho t spots,” he said as he opened the oven do or an d put the
cookie she ets inside . “You hav e to be sure an d rotat e the pan s so the y’ll cook
evenly.” He closed the do or an d pulled the oven mitt of f hi s han d. He tossed it

on the counter. “A pizza stone he lps, too. If you just keep it in the oven, even
whe n you aren’t bak ing pizza, it helps eliminat e the ho t spots.”
He wal ked over to me an d plac ed hi s han ds on eithe r side of me. The
electricity kicked on right as he was pulling do wn the collar of my shi r t. He
kissed the spot on my sho ulde r he al way s loves kissing an d slowly slid hi s
han ds up my bac k. I swear, sometimes whe n he ’s not even he re I can still feel

hi s lips on my collar bone.
He was ab out to kiss me on the mouth whe n we he ard a car pull into the
dr iveway an d the gar ag e do or star t to open. I jumped of f the islan d, looking
around the kitche n fran tical ly. His han ds went up to my che eks and he made
me look at hi m.
“Keep an eye on the cookies. The y’ll be finishe d in ab out twenty minutes.”
He pressed hi s lips to mine an d then releas ed me, rushi ng to the living room to

grab hi s bac kpac k. He made it out the bac k do or right whe n I he ard the engine
to my fat he r’s car shu t of f.
I star ted gat he ring al l the ingredi ents togethe r whe n my fat he r wal ked into
the kitchen from the gar ag e. He looked around an d the n saw the light on in the
oven.
“Are you cooking?” he as ked.

I nodde d becau se my he ar t was beat ing so fas t, I was scared he ’d he ar the
trembling in my voice if I responde d out loud. I scrubbed for a moment at a
spot on the counter that was per fectly clean . I cleared my throat an d sai d,
“Cookies. I’m bak ing cookies.”