Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
“No.” I shake my head. “No, she didn’t. If she knew, she would not have gone to that dinner with you the next night.”
“You don’t get it. She always knew, Locke. From day one.”
“What are you talking about?”
He shakes his head, drops his hands from my face, and turns his back to me. There are several seconds of silence. Then he turns back to me, his face severe and angry. “She played us, Locke. She played us and Olsen was in on it. And if I go with you and we hash this all out, it’s gonna ruin your life.”
My eyes kinda dart back and forth, focused on his. “I don’t understand.”
“You’re happy with me, right?”
“What?”
He stares at me intently. “Are you happy with me?”
“Yeah.” I’m not really sure which context of happiness he’s referring to. But it doesn’t really matter. I love him. I’m happy. And he’s part of that. So I say it again. “Yeah, Mercer. I’m happy with you. That’s why I live here.”
“OK, then. Listen to me. That day—” He stops talking.
I get impatient. “That day what?”
He wipes a hand in the air. Like he’s clearing it. Then he looks up at me. “Ya know what? Maybe you’re right. Maybe I just owe her an apology. You came back to get me?”
I nod. Not quite sure what he’s doing. But then again, if he’s going to agree, should I care?
“Well, you got me. If she wants an apology, fuck it. I’ll apologize.”
“You will?”
“Why not? Let’s go.”
“Now? It’s the middle of the night, Mercer.”
“Good. We’ll get there early in the morning. We can have this settled before she opens her farm for the day. And don’t call her and tell her we’re coming. I want it to be a surprise.”
Then he walks out of my room.
I know he’s up to something. I know Silas Mercer. He doesn’t just give in. He’s got a plan.
But I’m hoping that this plan gets us all back together.
I mean, hell, I don’t even care if Olsen sticks around. I’ve never minded the guy the way Mercer has. But that can be determined later.
Inside my head there is a voice.
It’s the voice of reason.
It’s the voice of caution.
It’s the voice that is very familiar with all the ways in which Mercer can blow things up into teeny-tiny pieces that can’t be put back together again.
But I ignore that voice.
Who in their right mind listens to that voice?
Not me.
I like Mercer’s dark side.
Hell, I’ve been living in it for decades now.
I like his games, I like his plots, I like his murky shadows, and his cunning mind, and his deep regrets.
I like all of it.
And what he’s doing right now feels like old times.
Times when we were more than this.
When we were happy.
When his plans were my plans and this was a team effort.
Yeah.
That’s what this feels like.
A team effort.
The flight back to Oregon takes forever. At least it feels that way. Jet lag is a thing, even if you’re not paying attention to the clock, and I’m exhausted. I fall asleep and wake up at least a dozen times. Mercer is in the chair across the aisle from me, asleep all the way back. Headphones on, eyes closed.
If he’s as unsettled as I am, he doesn’t show it. I think he sleeps all the way there without waking once.
It’s still dark when we land. I just traveled six thousand miles—crossed a continent twice in the span of twelve hours—so it’s a little surreal to see my rental Jeep right where I left it in the small airport parking lot.
Mercer didn’t bring a bag and my bag is still here.
So it’s just us.
He drives and I don’t give him directions. So. He really has been keeping up with Nova all these years. He knows exactly how to get from the airport to the farm. I want to question him on this, but there’s no point. The whole thing is coming to an end.
In fact, this is Mercer’s favorite part of life, right? Fresh starts and new beginnings.
The little house where Nova lives is dark when we park the Jeep. When we get out and start walking to the front door, I have a little moment of indecision. Do we knock and wake her up? Or just go inside if the door’s unlocked?
Mercer reaches the door ahead of me. He doesn’t knock. He doesn’t even pause. He just opens the door and steps inside.
There is one small light on in the kitchen. Just a little bit of hazy yellow leaking into the small living room where Nova is sitting in a chair facing the door, bleary-eyed and pale. Like she’s been in this exact position all night, waiting for us to join her.
Mercer stops in the middle of the room and just stares at her.