"Good, luv?" I asked Atlas as he finished washing his hands for what had to be the millionth time after getting back to the warehouse.
He nodded, not even bothering to look at me. His shoulders were trembling and small shoots of water sprang up from the sink at different intervals.
I waited him out. One of the few things I'd learned about this enigmatic man, over and above the fact that he was a seriously good kisser, was that his love for his brothers and family was the solid core of him. I'd watched in helpless horror as the realization that he'd been unable to save Xander's life had washed over him back in that slaughterhouse.
He turned from the sink, his head still down, his eyes closed tight. He shook his head. Still not bothering to look up at me.
I walked over to him, careful not to get too close to invading his personal space. "Need some touch or rather not?"
He nodded. The first tear splashed to the floor between my feet.