"I'll go with you today."
Those were the last words Lola wanted to hear from Atlas. After her mind had played tricks on her because of this man, she wanted some space. But despite the brief push and pull, here she was, sitting shotgun in his car.
She glanced at him. "You really didn't have to."
Atlas didn't respond, his eyes on the road. One hand was on the steering wheel, the other elbow resting on the window.
"Sleep on the way," he said after a moment of silence. "You look like you didn't get a good night's sleep."
"I did," she replied, but intuitively checked herself in the side mirror. "I look fine."
Again, he didn't respond.
A defeated sigh escaped her, and she leaned back in her seat. "How can you let your kids take over your job even for a day?" she muttered, her eyes on the window. "Aren't you afraid someone will report you to child services?"
"It wouldn't be the first time."
Her brow rose, and she gave him a side-eye. "You've been reported before?"
"By my parents."
