THURSDAY MORNING
Noah woke to silence.
Not the good kind.
He reached for his phone. 7:23 AM.
No messages.
He stared at the screen until it went dark. Then opened it again. Scrolled through yesterday's texts. Stopped at Atlas's last message.
Atlas: goodnight
Two words. Seven hours ago.
Nothing since.
His chest felt tight.
Yesterday morning he'd woken up in Atlas's bed. Atlas's arm heavy around his waist. Atlas's breath warm on his neck. Atlas kissing him before his eyes were fully open—hungry, demanding, like he couldn't wait another second.
Noah's body remembered. Heat spread through him. His stomach. Lower.
He shoved the blanket off. Sat up. Looked around.
Blue walls. Wooden desk. High school trophies gathering dust.
This room. This fucking room.
He couldn't breathe right.
Coffee helped. Sort of.
He sat at the kitchen island. His mother had already left for her gallery board meeting. His father was in his study—door closed, phone calls muffled through the walls. Lydia was still asleep.
The house was quiet. Too quiet.
He checked his phone.
Still nothing.
His coffee tasted like ash.
He changed into running clothes. Grabbed his earbuds. Hit the trail behind the house.
Mile one: checked his phone. Nothing.
Mile two: checked again. Nothing.
Mile three: "Fuck this."
He stopped. Doubled over. Hands on his knees.
Opened messages.
Noah: good morning
He hit send before he could talk himself out of it.
Delivered.
Read.
He watched the screen. Waited for the dots.
They didn't come.
"Fuck."
He ran another two miles. Pushed himself until his lungs burned and his legs screamed and he couldn't think about anything except putting one foot in front of the other.
It didn't help.
Back home. Shower. Changed.
11:14 AM.
His phone sat on his desk. Silent.
He paced. Sat down. Stood up. Paced again.
What if Atlas was done?
What if last night was it—one fight and Atlas decided Noah wasn't worth the hassle?
What if—
His phone buzzed.
He grabbed it so fast he nearly dropped it.
Atlas: Indian Harbor. Slip 17. 3pm.
Noah stared at the message.
That was it. No context. No "good morning" back. No "we need to talk." Just an address and a time.
Like a fucking dentist appointment.
His stomach dropped.
Was this—
Was Atlas breaking up with him?
His fingers hovered over the keyboard.
Noah: ok
Send.
He put the phone down. Picked it up. Put it down.
No response came.
1:47 PM.
He'd changed four times.
First outfit: too casual. Like he didn't care.
Second: too formal. Trying too hard.
Third: jeans and a t-shirt. Too safe.
Fourth: the charcoal slacks. White button-down. The ones I had bought him.
He stared at himself in the mirror.
Would Atlas even want to see him in these anymore?
His hands shook as he buttoned the cuffs.
"Stop," he told his reflection. "Just—whatever happens, stay calm."
His reflection didn't look convinced.
INDIAN HARBOR - 2:54 PM
The yacht was ridiculous.
Ninety feet of gleaming white hull. Teak deck. Chrome rails catching the sun.
Noah stood on the dock. Phone in his hand.
He called.
One ring.
"I'm here." Atlas's voice. Flat. Empty of everything.
"Where—"
"Top deck."
Click.
Noah's stomach twisted.
He climbed aboard. His legs didn't feel steady.
The deck was spotless. Everything in its place. Expensive. Perfect. Cold.
Atlas stood at the railing. White shirt. Sleeves rolled to his elbows. No sunglasses. Just—standing there. Looking at the water.
He didn't turn around.
"Hey." Noah's voice came out quieter than he meant.
Atlas didn't respond.
Seconds passed. Five. Ten.
"I didn't think you'd actually want to see me," Noah said.
Atlas turned. Slow.
His face was—
Fuck.
Not angry. Worse than angry.
Blank.
Like he'd pulled every wall back up and locked them from the inside.
"Didn't I?" Atlas leaned against the railing. Arms crossed. "You're here."
The words felt like broken glass.
"Yeah. I—" Noah took a step forward. Stopped. "Look, I'm sorry. I know you're pissed and I know I fucked up but my dad just showed up and I couldn't say no and I left my phone upstairs and—"
"Stop."
Noah stopped.
Atlas pushed off the railing. Walked toward him. Each step deliberate. Controlled.
He stopped three feet away.
"You think I'm pissed because you went to your parents' house?"
"I—yes?"
"No." Atlas's jaw worked. "I'm pissed because you vanished. Six calls, Noah. Six fucking calls. Radio silence."
"I know. I'm sorry. I forgot my phone—"
"You forgot." Atlas laughed. Sharp. Bitter. "For three hours."
"Atlas—"
"Do you know—" Atlas stopped. Looked away. His hand came up. Rubbed his face. When he looked back, something in his expression had cracked. "Do you know what I thought?"
Noah's throat closed up.
"I thought something happened." Atlas's voice dropped. Quiet. Raw. "I thought—car accident. Hospital. Your dad having a fucking stroke. I thought—" He stopped. Shook his head. "Doesn't matter."
"It does."
"No. Because none of that happened. You were fine. You were at dinner. With your family. And I was sitting there like a fucking idiot, losing my mind."
Noah's eyes burned. "I didn't mean—"
"I know." Atlas stepped closer. "That's the problem. You didn't mean to. You just—did."
Silence.
The water lapped against the hull. Steady. Rhythmic.
"I'm sorry," Noah whispered.
"Are you?"
"Yes."
"Then why?" Atlas tilted his head. "Why did you forget I existed the second you walked into that house?"
The question hit like a punch.
"That's not—"
"Isn't it?" Atlas's eyes searched his face. "Because from where I'm standing, Greenwich Noah doesn't have a boyfriend. Greenwich Noah doesn't have anything except what his father tells him to have."
Noah's hands clenched. "That's not fair."
"No?" Atlas pulled out his phone. Opened their texts. Held it up. "One message yesterday. 'Something came up.' That's it. Nothing else. Not 'I'm okay.' Not 'I'll call later.' Just—gone."
Noah looked at the screen. His chest hurt.
"You're right," he said. Voice breaking. "You're—fuck. You're right."
Atlas lowered the phone.
"I was scared," Noah said. The words tumbled out. "I was scared of my dad. Scared of what he'd think. What he'd say. And I just—I shut down. I hid."
"From me."
"From everything." Noah's voice cracked. "I didn't know what to do. How to be—" He gestured between them. "—this, and still be what they want."
Atlas was quiet for a long moment.
Then: "You can't."
Noah blinked. "What?"
"You can't be both." Atlas stepped closer. Close enough to touch. He didn't. "Not forever. Eventually you pick one."
Noah's throat burned. "Don't make me choose."
"I'm not." Atlas's gaze held his. "They will."
The words sat between them. Heavy. True.
"I don't want to lose you," Noah whispered.
"Then don't hide from me." Atlas's voice was rough. "Don't go dark for three hours. Don't make me wonder if you've decided I'm not worth the trouble."
"You are. You—" Noah reached out. His hand found Atlas's chest. "You're worth everything. I'm just—I don't know how to do this yet. How to stand up to him."
Atlas covered Noah's hand with his. Held it against his heart.
"I was scared too," he said quietly.
Noah looked up. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." Atlas's thumb traced over Noah's knuckles. "When you didn't answer, I thought you'd changed your mind. Thought you'd realized what being with me means and decided it wasn't worth it."
"Never." Noah's other hand came up. Gripped Atlas's shirt. "I swear. Never."
"You sure?" Atlas's free hand cupped Noah's face. "Because this isn't going to get easier. Your family's going to push. And I'm not going to hide."
"I don't want you to."
"Then you need to stop." Atlas's thumb brushed his cheekbone. "Stop disappearing. Stop letting them pull you away. Stop—" His voice dropped. "—acting like I'm something you have to keep secret."
"I don't—"
"You do." Atlas leaned in. Their foreheads almost touching. "And I get it. I do. But I can't—" He stopped. Swallowed. "I can't be someone you hide. I can't do that."
Noah's eyes burned. "I'm sorry."
"I know."
"I'm so fucking sorry."
Atlas pulled him in. Arms wrapping around him. Tight.
Noah buried his face in Atlas's chest. His hands fisted in Atlas's shirt.
"I thought you were going to break up with me," Noah said. Muffled against fabric.
Atlas's hand slid into his hair. "I thought about it."
Noah's breath hitched.
"For about thirty seconds," Atlas added. His hand tightened in Noah's hair. "Then I got pissed at myself for being that stupid."
Noah pulled back. Looked up at him. "Yeah?"
Atlas's mouth curved. Just barely. "You're kind of hard to quit."
"Good." Noah's hands slid up. One on Atlas's chest. One on his jaw. "Because I'm not letting you."
"Possessive."
"You started it."
Atlas's smile widened. Real smile this time. "Did I?"
"Yes. 'You're mine this weekend.' Remember?"
"I remember." Atlas's hands dropped to Noah's hips. "Still true."
"Is it?" Noah tilted his head. "Even after I fucked up?"
"Especially after." Atlas pulled him closer. "You think one fight's going to scare me off?"
"I don't know. You were pretty cold on the phone."
"I was pissed."
"And now?"
Atlas studied him. His eyes dark. Intense. "Now I'm just glad you're here."
Noah reached up. Pulled him down.
Their mouths met.
Not gentle. Not careful.
Desperate.
Noah's hands fisted in Atlas's hair. Atlas's hands gripped his hips hard enough to bruise.
Atlas backed him up. Noah's back hit the railing. Atlas pressed against him. Kissed him like he was trying to prove something. Like he was claiming something.
Noah made a sound. Atlas swallowed it. His tongue swept past Noah's lips. Tasted. Took.
Noah's legs went weak. He grabbed Atlas's shoulders for balance. Atlas's hands slid down. Gripped his thighs. Lifted.
Noah wrapped his legs around Atlas's waist without thinking.
Atlas carried him. Three steps. Put him down on the bench seat. Came down over him.
Noah arched up. Atlas's mouth moved to his jaw. His neck. Found that spot below his ear that made Noah gasp.
"Fuck," Noah breathed.
Atlas's teeth scraped skin. His tongue soothed it. His hands were everywhere—ribs, waist, thighs.
Noah's head fell back. Atlas's mouth moved down. Kissed his throat. His collarbone. The hollow at the base of his neck.
"Atlas—"
"Mm?"
"We're—" Noah's voice broke. "We're outside."
"Don't care." Atlas came back to his mouth. Kissed him deep. Thorough.
Noah kissed back. Couldn't help it. Didn't want to.
When Atlas finally pulled back, they were both breathing hard.
Noah stared up at him. "Hi."
Atlas's mouth curved. "Hi."
"Are we—" Noah licked his lips. "Are we okay?"
"Yeah." Atlas's thumb traced his jaw. "We're okay."
"You sure?"
"I'm sure." Atlas leaned down. Kissed him soft this time. Sweet. "Just—don't do it again."
"I won't."
"Promise?"
"Promise." Noah pulled him back down. Kissed him until the world stopped spinning.
They moved inside eventually. Down to the main cabin.
White leather couches. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Sun streaming in.
Atlas pulled Noah down. Noah went. Curled into him. Head on Atlas's chest. Atlas's arm around him.
They lay there. Just—lay there.
Atlas's fingers traced patterns on Noah's arm. Lazy. Soothing.
"Better?" Atlas asked.
"Yeah." Noah tilted his head. Looked up at him. "You really thought about breaking up with me?"
"For like two seconds."
"What changed your mind?"
Atlas was quiet for a moment. His fingers kept moving. Tracing lines on Noah's skin.
"You did," he said finally. "This morning. When you texted."
"'Good morning'? That's what convinced you?"
"Yeah." Atlas's hand moved to Noah's hair. "Because it meant you were still trying."
Noah's chest squeezed. "I am. Trying."
"I know." Atlas pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Just—text me back. That's all I'm asking. When I call, answer. Or call me back. Just—don't disappear."
"Okay."
"And if your family makes that hard—" Atlas paused. "—then we need to figure something out."
Noah propped himself up on one elbow. "Like what?"
"I don't know yet." Atlas's hand cupped his face. "But I'm not competing with them. I won't do that."
"You're not—"
"I am." Atlas's thumb brushed his cheek. "Every time you go back there, I'm competing. And I'm losing."
The words hurt because they were true.
"I'll fix it," Noah said.
"How?"
"I don't know." Noah leaned down. Kissed him. "But I will. I promise."
Atlas pulled him back down. Held him close.
They lay there. Sun warm on their skin. Water lapping against the hull.
"Did you miss me?" Noah asked after a while. His voice teasing.
"What do you think?"
"I think—" Noah grinned up at him. His dimples showing. Eyes bright. "—you were miserable without me."
Atlas laughed. "Confident."
"Right though."
"Maybe." Atlas's hand slid back into his hair. "Little bit."
"Little bit?" Noah shifted. Straddled him. Looked down at him. "That's all I get?"
Atlas's hands settled on his hips. "What do you want?"
"I want—" Noah leaned down. Kissed him slow. "—you to admit you missed me."
"I missed you." Atlas pulled him closer. "Happy?"
"Very." Noah kissed him again. Deeper this time.
Atlas made a sound low in his throat. His hands tightened on Noah's hips.
When they broke apart, Noah stayed close. Their foreheads touching.
"I've got a race this weekend," Atlas said. His voice rough. "Monticello. Saturday morning."
Noah pulled back slightly. "Racing?"
"Track day." Atlas's hands moved up and down Noah's sides. "Fast cars. Adrenaline. You know."
"You like the danger."
"I like winning." Atlas smiled. Pulled him back down. Kissed him.
Noah melted into it. His hands in Atlas's hair. Atlas's hands everywhere.
Noah kissed him. Tried to pour everything into it—every apology, every promise, every feeling he didn't have words for.
When he pulled back, Atlas's eyes were dark.
"What time is it?" Noah asked.
Noah glanced at his watch. "Five forty-seven."
His stomach dropped. "Fuck."
"What?"
"I should—" He climbed off Atlas's lap. Stood. "I should go. They'll notice if I'm gone too long."
Atlas sat up. Didn't say anything. Just looked at him.
"What?" Noah asked.
"Nothing."
"Atlas."
"It's fine." Atlas stood. Walked to the window. "Go."
Noah went to him. Wrapped his arms around him from behind. "Don't be like that."
"Like what?"
"Cold."
"I'm not cold." Atlas's hands covered Noah's. "I'm just—tired."
"Of what?"
"This." Atlas turned in his arms. "Competing with them."
Noah's jaw tightened. "You're not competing."
"No?" Atlas's hands settled on his waist. "Because from where I'm standing, every time they call, you jump. Every time your dad shows up, you disappear. And I'm just—" He stopped. "Here. Waiting."
"That's not fair."
"Isn't it?" Atlas's voice stayed even. "You have your own place, Noah. Your own life. But the second your dad wants you home, you go. No questions. No pushback. Just—gone."
Noah looked away. "It's complicated."
"I know it is." Atlas's hand came up. Made Noah look at him. "But at some point, you have to decide. Are you twenty-two and living your own life? Or are you still trying to be the son they want?"
Noah's throat burned. "I don't know how to do both."
"You can't." Atlas pulled him closer. "That's what I'm trying to tell you. You can't be both. Not forever."
Silence.
"When are you going back to your place?" Atlas asked quietly.
"Tomorrow. Friday morning."
"And then?"
"Back to normal. Work. My apartment. My life."
"Your life." Atlas's thumb brushed his cheek. "Right?"
"Our life." Noah leaned into the touch. "I promise. Tomorrow night—dinner. Just us."
Atlas studied him. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"Yeah." Atlas kissed his forehead. "Go. Before your dad sends a search party."
Noah pulled back. "You're not mad?"
"I'm not mad." Atlas's hands framed his face. "I'm just—impatient. I want you all the time. Not just when they let you out."
"Tomorrow," Noah said. "I'll come straight from work. We'll have the whole weekend."
"The whole weekend?"
"Well—" Noah hesitated. "Saturday you have the race."
"Come with me."
"I—yeah. Okay. I'll come."
Atlas's expression shifted. Surprise. Then something warmer. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." Noah kissed him. "I want to see you win."
"I always win."
"Cocky."
"Confident." Atlas kissed him back. "Now go. Before I change my mind about letting you leave."
Noah smiled. "Would that be so bad?"
"Yes." Atlas turned him around. Guided him toward the door. "Because then tomorrow you'd feel guilty and weird and I don't want that."
Noah stopped at the door. "Text me tonight?"
"Always."
"Good." Noah kissed him once more. "Tomorrow. I promise."
"I'm holding you to that."
---
Noah got to his car. Sat there.
His phone buzzed.
Atlas: miss you already
Noah smiled.
Noah: me too. back to my office tomorrow morning. you can come over whenever you want
Atlas: whenever?
Noah: whenever
Atlas: dangerous offer
Noah: i know
Another buzz.
Atlas: dinner tomorrow night. my place. 7pm.
Noah: can't wait
Atlas: good. because i'm not letting you leave until sunday
Noah's face went warm.
Noah: promise?
Atlas: promise
He put the phone down. Started the car.
Tomorrow he'd go back to his apartment. His life. His routine.
And Atlas would be part of it.
No more hiding. No more disappearing.
Well—after he got through one more night in Greenwich.
He pulled out of the marina.
His phone buzzed again.
Atlas: and noah?
Noah: yeah?
Atlas: stop letting them control you
Noah stared at the message.
Noah: i'm trying
Atlas: i know. but try harder. for us.
Noah: i will
He meant it.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow he'd go home.
And this time, he wouldn't let them pull him back so easily.