"How do I live better?"
Atlas opened his mouth but closed it again. He held Lola's gaze, watching her look away as she wiped her eyes with her arm. She had been trying not to cry, but the tears kept coming anyway.
"Damn it," she hissed through clenched teeth. "Shit."
He reached out, then paused midway and curled his hand into a tight fist. Maybe he should've listened to Slater's endless chatter about sympathy, about how to console someone. Slater had even joked about making Lola cry just so Atlas could step in and comfort her. He would've known what to do to make her stop, instead of just standing there like a statue.
"Anyway." Lola cleared her throat and let out a sharp huff. "I understand now why you exhumed the body. I'm not saying I'm not upset, but if it's true that that night was you, then… I guess you had the right to check, since you could've been the father."
She forced a smile, her eyes still fixed on the grave. "Right?"
