The Retreat (The After Trilogy Book 1) (21 page)

She shrank, staring at the marks that were quite clearly from a large hand. Dreading what she would see, Romy raised her eyes to Atlas’s. Grey eyes were on her, watching. His calloused hand made for her elbow and she flinched away. Hurt flickered in his dark eyes and Atlas’s hand fell back to his side.

He regarded her silently and Romy felt like he was just as out of his depth as she was in hers.

“Come with me,” he said.

It was nearly dinnertime. Maybe. . . . Her eyes slid to the Hull.

“Now,” he ordered.

Romy jumped and glared at him. She glanced around. The settlement was on their way to dinner and she and Atlas had drawn a crowd. With a huff, she strode after the demanding man.

She stormed past Atlas into his office. Romy saw Tina’s shocked face for a split second before Atlas slammed the door. She wondered what the woman would make of this conversation.

“Who gave you those bruises?”

Romy untied her shirt and shrugged it back on. “No one.”

Atlas wasn’t looking her way. His hands were clasped loosely behind his back. He stood like a soldier. Lucas was a soldier. The politics of this place made no sense to her. She didn’t know what move to make.

“Do you think covering them makes them go away?” His eyes were like flint. The angriest she’d seen them. “Tell me, or I'll find out myself.”

Romy was silent in the wake of his fury. He couldn’t help her—not if Lucas worked for the Mandate. She wouldn’t dump him in trouble, too.

“Was it Thrym?”

Her mouth dropped open. “What? No!”

Atlas turned on the spot and she was trapped under his gaze. “Then who are you protecting?”

My knot!
she wanted to scream. Always her knot.
And you, you fool.

His frustration grew as she remained mute. “I don’t understand, Rosemary. If someone’s hurting you, I can help.”

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. . . .”

* * *

S
he’d gone straight to bed after relaying the information about the hourly sentry patrols to Phobos. She heard the others whispering about her once they thought she was asleep. Apparently, even Thrym had been sent out looking for her. Thrym had guessed Romy was with Nancy and the others, but guilt swamped her as she listened to his concerns over her behaviour that morning in Houston’s office.

In typical knot fashion, they knew Romy would speak when she was ready. And Romy resolved to do so once they were clear of the settlement. More than ever, she wanted to be away from Jimboomba. Away from Lucas and Atlas, and the gorgeous Tina.

She stomped beside Phobos on the way to breakfast the next morning. Sleep had been elusive and fitful last night. Sensing her disquiet, Phobos grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly, questioning her with his eyes. Romy shook her head, and he gave her a small smile.

If only Atlas would take a simple hint like that.

Romy gave his hand a quick squeeze and untangled her fingers, seeing that Elara was watching with a small frown. That was all she needed—for the others to think her and Pho were attracted to each other. Honestly, Romy’s stomach rolled at the thought, as handsome as Phobos was.

“Deimos said he would meet us at breakfast,” Thrym said. “Cover story: he was injured during landing. Shouldn’t be hard to stick to, being as it’s true.”

If anything could have salvaged Romy’s day it was this news. It almost made her burst into tears again. This
had
to be hormonal. She’d never cried so much in her life.

Romy skimmed across the floor when she spotted Deimos already sitting at their table.

“Dei!” She kissed his cheek and threw her arms around him. He wrapped his arms around her tightly.

“You all right, lovely?”

Like she was going to spill the plasma to a man just healed from the brink of death. She nodded with a beaming smile. “I am now that you’re better.”

Deimos suffered through hugs from the rest of the knot. “‘Better’ would be a comparative term. But I’m out of bed and I’ve been worse.”

Nancy was watching from the table where they usually sat. Excusing herself, Romy approached them.

“We’re just eating together today, but I promise we’ll be back tomorrow. It’s only because Dei is out of hospital,” she explained.

Freya’s eyes were huge. “I
see
that.”

Eddie smiled. “W-what about Thrym?” he asked the girl.

“What about him? Deimos is drop-dead man stuff.”

Romy felt the same drop in her stomach as she had when Freya mentioned Thrym yesterday. It made her feel better. For a moment, Romy had thought she might have felt something in return for Thrym. But maybe she just didn’t like anyone showing interest in her knot.

Nancy was stabbing at her plate. “Did I ever tell you, you need acting lessons?” She glanced up with raised brows over her violet eyes.

Fred was more obvious. “You told Atlas you were out ‘
walking’.
Are you serious?”

Romy’s cheeks warmed. “I’m not good at lying.”

“Is that an enhancement thing?” Freya asked.

Romy shrugged. “Could be.” Though Phobos and Deimos never had any problem with it. But then, they were unlike many aboard the orbitos.

Someone was calling her name. She turned to see Houston jogging towards her.

“Romy. Glad I caught you.” Houston waved her over to one side.

Anger flared within Romy. She hadn’t forgotten Atlas’s slip. Houston had told on her, plain and simple.

“How could you tell him?” she asked when they were out of the Hull.

Houston sighed, taking off his glasses. For the first time since she’d met him, the lively doctor appeared as weary as his long hours should make him. It made her irritation grow.

“I trusted you.” She frowned.

The man looked at his feet. “I’m sorry. But my duty as a doctor is to keep people safe. Even from themselves. You were asking questions about sexual harassment. For all I knew, you’d been
raped.
”

Finally a word for what Lucas threatened her with. Rape. The word was just as disgusting as the man himself.

“Was I supposed to ignore that? Would you have wanted me to ignore it if, say, Elara, had come to me?”

Romy looked into his tired eyes, deflating with the mention of Elara.

“No. But I wish you would have gone to someone else, Houston. Now Atlas thinks I’m an idiot.”

Long, thin fingers tilted her chin upwards. “I can assure you he doesn’t.”

Romy fell silent.

Houston replaced his glasses. “And seeing as you won’t tell anyone who the dog is, I need to ask you an uncomfortable question.”

Romy nodded and swallowed.

“Have you been raped?”

She avoided his gaze. Her knot was watching through the window of the Hull. Why had Houston decided to have this conversation here? Away from Atlas? Away from Tina? Or was it just coincidence?

“No.”

Houston continued. “Whatever it is you won’t tell me about, I want you to know none of it is your fault. It is theirs, not yours.
Never
yours.”

She blinked rapidly and cleared her throat. She didn’t trust her voice not to crack.

“If you wish to talk more about this, my door is always open.” Houston’s tone was decisive. “And Atlas has found other tasks for you to do, to assist him. Away from the storage room.”

Joy and confusion simultaneously competed for first place.

“Why?”

Houston smiled. “You’re asking me why Atlas does the things he does?”

Romy laughed louder than she normally would at such a statement. A by-product of the tense nature of the conversation.

Houston dipped his head down to catch her attention. “And I
am
sorry.”

Romy reached across and squeezed his shoulder. “I know.”

She forgave him. But she wouldn’t forget.

The doctor nodded. And somehow Romy gathered that he knew she wouldn’t be telling him any more secrets.

“Then Atlas expects you directly after breakfast. You will go directly to jail, you will not pass GO, and you will not collect two hundred dollars.”

Romy gave him a puzzled glance.

Houston let out a manic cackle and strolled away.

“Y
ou have things for me to do?” Romy asked quietly.

The door to Atlas’s secluded office was sitting open for the first time in weeks. Romy hovered by the entrance.

Atlas took a few seconds to answer, wiping his hands across the projections in front of him. What in all of space was he doing?

“Rosemary.”

Romy ground her teeth together. Top on her agenda was keeping her temper in check with the elusive man for as long as possible. She would not ask him questions, she would not kiss him, and she would not cry in front of him. Romy was going to be civil.

“You requested my presence, sir.” Romy stood to attention. Two could play that game.

He narrowed his eyes at her reply and stood from his desk.

“Has anyone ever told you, you can be fiercely stubborn?”

She pressed her lips together, refusing to voice a sarcastic response. Why was he so infuriating?

“I have a job for you,” he continued. “You may have noticed the extra bustle today. It’s because there’s a festival tonight.”

“Yes, N— Uh, yes, I heard.” Mentioning Nancy’s name wasn’t a good idea.

A half-smile graced his face for a fleeting moment.

“You can sort out the seating arrangements for the meal.”

Romy wrinkled her nose. “What? Why? Can’t people just sit anywhere?”

Atlas ran his hand through his dark hair. “You would think. However, there are politics in any place. Everyone gets on, but no one gets on.”

“That makes no sense.”

His lips quirked.

She approached and took a pile of papers from him. “Is this what you do in here all day?” she asked doubtfully. “Worry about festivals and guest lists?”

Another smile curved his full lips. “No. Not quite. Tina supplied this as I had nothing for you to do.”

“Then what do you do?” The question hung between them and she winced as his eyes turned away. An awkward silence strained between them.

Romy glanced down at the pile in her hands, blurting, “Wouldn’t a list suffice?”

“Tina thought not.” Atlas turned back to his desk space. “I’ll need you to work down the hall, in the debrief room.”

That must be the room with all the tables and chairs,
she realised
.
Translation: I don’t want you to see what I’m doing.

Her anxiety immediately spiked. She knew Lucas was in and out of this building with Tina all the time. And if Tina had given Atlas the papers, Lucas might know where Romy was working for the day.

Romy still wasn’t sure about Tina’s involvement. But Lucas Cayne might not be working alone.

“I’ll be leaving my door open.”

She looked up. “Huh?”

Atlas watched her closely. “I said, my door will be open. You can keep your door open, too. I’ll hear if you call for me.”

I will hear if you scream
. “Okay.”

He circled back around the desk, drawing near until he was close enough to reach out and brush a thumb across her cheek. “Will you call for me if anything is wrong?”

Would she call for Atlas if Lucas touched her again?

“Yes.” Romy doubted there would be a choice. Lucas had told her he was done with threats.

He twirled a piece of her white-blonde hair around his fingers. “Your hair has grown.”

A folder slid off the stack she held. Paper erupted across the floor. Atlas crouched down and studied one of the documents.

“It looks like you’ll be having an exciting day.” He snorted. “Just don’t sit me next to Mrs Stewart.”

“Who’s she?”

Atlas shuddered. “You don’t want to know.”

* * *

H
ours later, Romy stared at the wall. It had to be midday, but there was no way she was going to lunch. How was it possible that seating arrangements were so hard? She certainly wouldn’t have thought it. But then she started on the pile—after reading Tina’s note.

Read these.

Put the names on the tables.

Don’t screw it up.

— Tina

Thomas Maloney had ruined Maurice Lawrence’s best shirt last year.

Sandra Gates had been engaged to Roger Downs, who then got married to Rita Sheppard.

How much drama can one settlement have?

Every time Romy arranged the names in a particular order, she would find a table that simply didn’t work.

She slumped in her chair and groaned dramatically.

“Hmm, that won’t do.”

Romy yelped and darted from her chair. She held a hand to her chest. “Houston, you scared me.”

Houston was studying the arrangement of names she had spread out on the floor. “Griffins don’t like Slats, and Stewarts don’t like Maloneys.”

Heart rate returning to normal, Romy found she actually appreciated his advice. She switched a few of the names and awaited approval.

“That would be nice, but the Maloneys don’t like Griffins.”

“Really?” she exploded. “Is there no way to keep everyone happy?”

Houston held his glasses in place. “Ah . . . probably not. But I would say that’s the point.”

Romy frowned. “What?”

“Toodles,” he called out. “Oh, and don’t sit me next to Tina.”

Returning to her slumped sitting, Romy wondered if Tina had given her this task because she deemed it impossible. Romy would have understood Tina simply passing on the task because it sucked. But now Romy had something to prove.

* * *

A
gentle shaking drew her from sleep. She moaned and blinked the blurriness from her vision. A familiar chuckle sounded. Romy bolted upright, brushing off a paper that was stuck to her cheek.

Thrym stood in front of her.

“Tiring work?” he asked.

Romy glared at him and then at the unfinished seating arrangements. “I challenge you to do this stuff without falling asleep.”

Thrym held up his hands.

“What’s the time?” She yawned with a crack of her jaw.

“Four o’clock.”

Romy jumped up. “Comets! What time does the festival start?”

“In an hour,” he replied calmly.

She circled the names on the floor, ignoring Thrym’s sniggers. “It’s not funny! The Griffins don’t like the . . . Slats. And I don’t think the Maloneys like
anyone
.”

“It’s kind of funny,” Thrym said.

Romy marched up to him, and he backed away behind a table.

“Easy, Ro. All I know is someone is going to be unhappy. Just accept it and move on. You can’t please everyone. Plus, Nancy wants you to find her once you’re done. You and Elara are getting ready with her, Freya, and Hannah.”

“But I don’t want anyone to be unhappy.”

“I know. You’re literally the worst person for this job.”

She glared murder at him. “Thanks.” Maybe she could just add another table. Tina’s words—
Don’t screw it up—
echoed in her mind.

But Houston and Thrym had both said that someone would be unhappy. To achieve the task, did she have to admit that the task was unachievable? On some petty level, was Tina just toying with her?

Romy’s eyes alighted on Houston’s name, next to Atlas’s. A mischievous thought entered her mind. And as she rearranged names, Romy didn’t notice Thrym watching her sadly for a long moment before he left.

Furiously scribbling down the names on the backside of a paper, she collected the cards and ran out of the room.

Atlas may have called her as she ran past, but Romy ignored him and she ran down the steps.

And stopped.

Because the clearing had been transformed.

Lanterns hung from ropes, surrounding the dusty clearing and criss-crossing overhead. It wasn’t dark enough for them to be lit, but their bright colours were beautiful. Some of the Hull tables had been dragged out for the occasion and bright tablecloths decorated them, along with candles and rustic decorations.

How did this all happen in the space of a day?

“I’ve been looking all over for you!” A scowl marred Nancy’s face, and she stomped towards Romy, flanked by Freya and Elara.

“Don’t ask. Just help.” Romy spread out the cards and her list. “I need these names put in this exact order on the tables.
Exactly
.”

“Ooo, stern Ro. I likey.” Elara picked up the top cards and scrutinised the list.

With four of them it didn’t take long to get the names in position. It took Romy a further ten minutes to double check. She’d done what she could. Romy would have to hope the Griffins didn’t mind the Stewarts. Or whatever.

Elara came to her side. “It looks like your day was even worse than mine.”

Romy frowned at her friend. “What happened?”

She looked around and bowed her head. “I think the head engineer caught me checking out his nanopad.”

“Why were you looking at it in the first place?”

“I’m trying to understand the sentry rotations. It’s hard because I only work during the day, and they switch up the one we drive out to every shift.”

Her friend was freaking out.

“Ellie,” Romy said calmly, “we’ll figure it out. The main thing is laying low. Do you think the engineer is suspicious?”

Elara nodded. “He’s keeping an eye on me now.”

Poacher poop.
This was bad. “You need to do everything right until he backs off. Don’t ask any more questions.”

Elara scrunched her delicate nose and rolled her eyes. “Well, duh.”

Freya stamped up to them. “Seriously. We have like twenty minutes to get ready.”

The girls ran to a homestead down the way, and Romy tried to draw Elara away from the worry that pinched her eyebrows and mouth.

Nancy’s abode was close to the garage where the knot had first awoken. And it was tiny. It looked like it was only one room.

“Don’t you live with your family?” Elara asked.

Nancy was digging through her closet, but Romy could see her body stiffen from where she sat on the unmade bed.

“They’re all dead,” she said shortly.

Elara’s mouth formed an O and she shot Romy a panicked look.

Romy spoke quietly. “That’s terrible, Nancy. I’m so sorry.”

Elara echoed her sentiments.

Freya barged in with an armful of clothing, Hannah trailing behind her. “There!” she declared proudly.

The five girls looked down at the pile of nondescript dresses.

“I dunno,” Nancy said dubiously.

Freya tossed her long silken hair. “Nancy, no offence, but your clothes suck kookaburra droppings.”

“Probably because I’m not trying to attract the whole settlement.”

“You act like you’re not interested, but you totally are.”

“Where do we start?” Elara asked loudly.

Romy exhaled, throwing her knot mate a thankful glance.

Freya tapped her bottom lip in thought, surveying the pile and the girls on either side of her. Suddenly she clapped her hands in glee.

“. . .I’ve got it.”