"ARE YOU STILL having nightmares?"

"Some."

"Flashbacks? Panic attacks?"

"Occasionally."

"How about when you look at the water? The house is across from a beach, correct?"

"It is."

My therapist sighs, and I watch her as she places her pen down over the video call. "Thalia. I can't help if you don't give me more than one-word answers."

My hands tighten around my coffee cup as I stare down into it. The breeze blows past my exposed neck from my hair being in a bun, as I sit outside on the balcony with the laptop on the small table as I am curled into the chair. Her eyes stare at me through the screen, that I can feel on me even when I'm not looking. Sighing, I fix my gaze on the ocean as the tide comes in and out. These sessions were part of my recovery in physical therapy, something that was insisted by my agent and doctors to carry on with. I'm not a fan.

Placing my cup down, I throw my arms into the air and huff. "What do you want to know? The fact I can sit on the beach and look at water, but that brings flashbacks. I can't go in the water or surf because I'm terrified of the accident happening again. Every time someone mentions my accident, surfing or when I'm going back, I clam up and everything becomes claustrophobic. I can't sleep because of the nightmares, so I wake up in cold sweats."

My response is met with silence as I twiddle my thumbs. Daring a look at the screen, I see her looking at me, her head titled, and she closes her book before leaning forward on her chair.

"It's okay that this accident affected you, Thalia. I would have been amazed if it didn't after all the physical therapy you went through," she begins, and I bite my lip. "Why don't we talk about something positive that's happened? For example, you're in a new town. We talked about baby steps and to me, sitting on the sand itself is a step."

"That comes easy to me. It's strange how this works," I admit, and she nods her head, allowing me to continue. "That I can sit on the sand without hesitation and walk along the beach."

"Have you tried getting closer to the water? Each day you can get a little closer," she suggests.

I shake my head. "I haven't. But I got onto a boat multiple times. I didn't touch the water at all, and there was still that sensation of panic inside me the whole time."

She raises her eyebrow. "What made you get onto a boat?"

"Someone's optimism was annoying me, and it was the only way to shut him up," I tell her.

"Really?" she asks, and I sigh before picking my coffee up and finishing it.

"I don't know. There's this calmness around him, even though I haven't known him that long. Like he'd let no one get hurt and you can trust him," I explain, and she nods her head.

"There is no wrong or right with how this works. Everyone is different. You will come to realize what parts are harder for you than others. For example, you going on the boat, it seems, is much different in your mind compared to going into the water. You could find you could swim in a pool and be okay but not the ocean, and you could stand on a board on the sand," she explains, and I rub my arms.

"So, what do I do?"

"We talked about baby steps and how once you take that first baby step, the rest will follow. So, what I want you to do is try to go towards the water. Just so it touches your feet. You can take a step day by day," she offers, and I take a deep breath before nodding. "PTSD is something people live with. They go about their everyday lives with it. We help them manage. Sometimes yes, over a few years it might not be as bad. However, you want to surf again, but this will not disappear. It may remain dormant, though."

"So, I'm always going to be that surfer who is afraid of surfing." I sigh, placing my hands over my face.

"I can assure you. You won't be the only one." She gives me a soft smile. "I'll see you for our next appointment."

✺✺✺

The first day I tried, I made it two steps past where I usually sit.

The second day I did an extra two steps.

On the third day, I got up to just where the water misses me.

I couldn't go further than that.

Days after trying, I lay on my stomach on a beach towel on the beach as I flick through my book. My wavy hair acts as a curtain, shielding me so I can read it as the sun beams down on my exposed back, just covered by my bikini.

"Anyone who says this isn't the most relaxing thing has never experienced true relaxation," Gabi says with her eyes closed as she lays tanning next to me with a content look on her face, and I chuckle. "There's no better feeling than this."

"Not even sex?" I ask her, smirking, and she purses her lips as if thinking about it.

She shakes her head and waves me off. "Good sex is so hard to find these days."

"I'm sure Sam would love to hear that," I sarcastically comment, and she shrugs. "This is nice but being on the waves is the greatest feeling for me."

"That we can agree on," Atlas says, and I turn my head, seeing him place his board down on the sand next to me before lying on it on his back. Having just come out of the water from surfing, he sends me a wink as he turns his head towards me, his blonde shaggy hair now wet from the water.

"Surfers." Gabi scoffs, and I laugh before going back to reading my book. We all lay in silence as we do our own things, the sound of kids in the ocean filling my ears and the wind as it whips past us. I slap Atlas's hand away as he keeps reaching over to mess up my page in the book. He chuckles as he does, and I shake my head.

"So, want to tell me why for three days in a row at the start of the week you came to the beach, walked towards the water, getting closer every day, then left and just stopped?" Atlas questions. I freeze at his question before looking over, seeing his eyes closed, his hands clasped on his bare stomach, resting over his subtle abs.

"Who's the stalker now?" I tease, and I see a smile tilt at his lips.

"You'd make an awful stalker because your hair would give you away," Gabi mumbles, and Atlas places a hand to his chest.

"I'd make a great stalker. Close the shack up so it looks like no one is there, when I really am," Atlas considers, tapping his chin thoughtfully.

"This is such a weird conversation. It's like you've thought about it before," I say, and Gabi chuckles as Atlas shrugs.

Atlas reaches his leg out and nudges my leg with his. "So?"

I sigh and bookmark my book before turning my head to face him. Seeing his eyes now open. "I was trying to get closer to the water each day. Small steps each day."

"Why did you stop?" he asks curiously, and I rub my temple.

"I got to right before where the water hits, but I didn't come back the next day. I couldn't do it," I admit, and he hums.

"Maybe you just need a distraction," Atlas comments, and I shrug.

"Or I'm never going to get back into the water," I say, defeated.

"I really didn't think you could be more cynical—I was wrong," Atlas says, astounded.

"Is this where you give me the whole you can do anything you put your mind to bullshit?" I ask him, resting my hand under my chin.

"Not anymore, I'm not," he says, scoffing, and I smile. "Plus, I have to get back to work so I don't have time. But mind staying until I close up?"

I raise my eyebrow. "Why?"

"Just do as he says, so he'll shut up. I'm trying to sleep," Gabi mumbles, and I turn to her and laugh.

"Fine," I tell him, and he nods before getting up grabbing his board. He places his finger to his lips before he walks to get a cold drink from the cooler we have and places it directly on Gabi's back.

"Atlas! You asshole." She screams, jumping as she feels it, and he laughs until she gets up and starts chasing him back to the shack. I shake my head before getting back to my book.

✺✺✺

"Ready to do this?"

Looking up from where I lay on the sand, on my towel but now with an oversized sweater covering my bikini, I see Atlas hovering above me, twirling his keys in his hands. His hair falls over his eyes as he looks down at me. Hours have passed, and the sun is setting. Gabi left a while ago and meanwhile I have been people watching.

"What are we doing exactly?" I ask, not moving from my spot with my hands clasped together, resting on my stomach. He shakes his head before lying down next to me, resting his hands under his head.

"You don't trust easy, do you?" he asks, and I shrug my shoulders.

"Are you always so trusting?" I ask him as I turn my head to the side to look at him.

"Not all the time. But mostly, especially with people in this town, we're not exactly known for screwing people," he admits before turning his head to face me. "Anyway, you said you got close to being near the water. I want to help you take that last step."

"If you push or throw me, I will burn your shack down," I threaten, and an amused look crosses his face.

"Not what I was going to do, but your ability to want to set something alight worries me," he says, and I roll my eyes. "Stand up."

He gets up and kicks off his flip flops before holding his hands out for me to take. I sigh before placing my hands in his, allowing him to help me up before I follow his lead and kick off my sandals.

"Ask me anything you want," Atlas says. Holding his arms out to the sides, and I raise my eyebrows.

"Anything?"

He nods. "I'm an open book—most of the time."

I tilt my head. "Why do you want to help me?"

He sighs before stepping back, still holding my hands, encouraging me to follow him, which I do. "Days after I was born, I was placed into foster care. I grew up in a group home a few towns away. Never knew my parents—"

My eyes widen at his confession, and he keeps stepping back, bringing me with him. "—group homes are not the greatest, surrounded by a ton of kids in shitty situations. The older ones pick on the younger ones, and the adults don't give a shit."

"That can't have been easy," I whisper, my eyes flicking down to the water. We're getting closer as we take a few more steps. He places his finger under my chin, lifting it back up to meet the bright blue pool of his eyes.

"It wasn't. So, when I was seven and could ride a bike. I used to ride all the way out to Sandy Cove—" Atlas admits and a smile tilts at my lips. He squeezes my hands as we get closer, my body stiffening up as we do so. "—every weekend I came here. Sometimes after school just to avoid the group home."

"Is that how you met Easton?" I ask, biting my lip, refusing to take a step further as he steps back. He rubs his thumbs over my knuckles, keeping his eyes on me. He looks down at the space between us with a raised eyebrow, and I have to admit, my curiosity gets the better of me. Taking a deep breath, I step forward hesitantly, and he smiles reassuringly.

"It is. On this beach, actually. I came and sat, watched the surfers, the families—" he admits, and I smile sadly. "—I was having a hard time. Bullies at school and it didn't end once I was back at the group home. One particularly bad day I came here crying. Easton came and sat with me. He asked me why I looked so sad, and I told him. I came back all the time and Easton would always see me from the house, so he would come and see me. This went on for months. He brought me to meet June, his grandma. She would always invite me for dinner, take us for ice cream."

"She sounds like an amazing person," I tell him, and he nods his head, smiling wistfully.

"She really is. She did everything that my family should have done for me," he agrees before he turns to look behind him. "Last few together, ready?"

I close my eyes as I hear my heart beating fast in my chest. The urge to run back to the house is great, and that is something I worry I will always get regardless of if I surf again or not. I let him lead me forward. The palpitations feel like my heart will jump out of my chest at any moment. I'm sure he can feel how sweaty my hands are, but he just squeezes tighter. As soon as I feel the water brush against my feet, encasing them, the memories come back.

Tightness in my chest.

Panic.

I can't do it.

Letting go of his hands, I immediately step back, away from the rushing water. Atlas's arms fall back to his side.

"I can't do it."

The weight of my words hit me. A surfer who can no longer get in the water seems pathetic.

"Thalia." Atlas brings me out of my thoughts as he steps closer. "It's okay. No rush. You don't want to know how the story ends?"

I nod my head, feeling a lump in my throat. No words can get out.

"Let's sit down. A little forward, let's see if you're comfortable with the water touching your feet while you're sitting down and not going further in," Atlas suggests, and I take my time before nodding. We sit down together, scooting forward. I hold my breath as the water creeps up to cover my feet, exhaling as it goes back out.

"Focus on me," he tells me, and I resist the urge to scoot backwards before turning to look at him. "So, it was my eighth birthday. Birthdays in group homes are kind of a pain, so many people are lucky if you get your own cake. June had organized a small party for me. Invited some of the town, including Gabi."

"She did?" I croak, and he nods his head. The water once again hits my feet. "Keep going."

"She told me she wanted to adopt me. So, the next day she started the process," Atlas says. "She saved me. From everything. Who knows where I would be or where I would be without her having adopted me."

"Is that why you want to help other people?" I ask him.

"She changed my life and I'm happier for it. I remember what it was like to be sad all the time. That's not something I want anyone to go through or experience. I want to be that person for someone like she was for me. Only if they want though, I'd never force it on anyone," Atlas explains, and I smile.

"Lucky for you, your happiness is contagious," I say, and he laughs. "Can I move now?"

He nods and I scoot back far enough where the water doesn't hit me. Placing my head in my hands, I need a moment to calm. I feel Atlas place his hand on my leg. My heart rate goes back to normal. The panic feeling fading, and I wrap my arms around my legs, looking at him. Worry passes through his eyes as if he is worrying that he pushed me too far.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that—" I tell him, and he looks at me. "—and thank you for trusting me with your story and for helping me."

"If surfing is as important to you, a pro-surfer, as much as it is to Easton, then I know how frustrating this must be for you," he says, and I nod my head. "Do you want to try for staying in longer every few days?"

I hesitate before nodding. "Baby steps."

My body feels like it's had all the energy drained out from it. Slipping my shoes back on and grabbing my things, we make our way up the beach to the main road. 

"Why don't we all go out to the bar this weekend?" Atlas suggests and I raise my eyebrow.

"This town has a bar?"

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Yes. We may be a small town, but we're not desolate. We'll have a laugh, take your mind off things."

I shrug my shoulders. "Sure, why not."

Giving Atlas a tired smile, I reach up to kiss his cheek.

"Thank you again," I tell him, pulling back, seeing a little blush spreading across his cheeks.

"Anytime Thalia."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A U T H O R   N O T E

This chapter was so hard to write. To be able to convey what was happening in a way that seemed realistic in the circumstances. Even after having beta readers read through the chapter to ensure this. I don't think there will ever be a time where I post a chapter of this book where something like this is happening and not worry that it is wrong.

What are your thoughts on Atlas's past? There will be more small moments to be revealed throughout the book that correlate to his upbringing. I love how they can open up to each other and it's as if they're going on their separate journeys together.