Chapter 142

[Cordelia]

I am grateful for Atlas' company as he guides me down the long hallways to where we both plan to get tested as potential donors. I hold onto his arm tightly as I explain to him how I've been deathly afraid of needles since our car accident 5 years ago.

"I know I got off easy," I acknowledge, "I wasn't the one in a coma, Angelica was. But I had gotten knocked around bad enough to need a couple of days in the hospital."

"I remember," Atlas looks like his mind is far away, his eyes unfocused as he stares in front of him. "I was there too. I," he looks at me sadly. "I visited both of you. Even though you had been the one driving, and even though I was so angry at you, I still..." he pauses. "I still felt this need to keep you safe, to protect you."

"An annoying trait you still haven't outgrown," I try to joke, to help ease the tension.

But it doesn't go the way I had hoped. Both Atlas and I are still too overwhelmed with the tragic nostalgia of shared grief and past trauma to f