Gigi says, “Our dad’s—”
“—an asshole,” Merc finishes, then clenches his jaw. “Sorry, kids.”
“That’s a bad word, and we’re not allowed to use it,” Mary, the little girl, says gravely.
“Bad word,” Cole repeats solemnly.
Fighting an uncontrollable urge to laugh, I reach for the potatoes. “And are your dad and brother around?”
“No, they live in Destiny. That’s where we used to live until a few years back.”
Ah-ha. New information is coming to light! The thing is, I never imagined that Merc didn’t grow up in anything but a perfect family, a perfect neighborhood.
“He didn’t do anything to you,” Mrs. Watson—Maggie—is saying. “Jasper. He wasn’t there as a father, but he didn’t hurt you—”
“He treated Octavia like dog shit scraped off the sole of his shoe,” Matt says, dark eyes flashing, shoulders tensing. “Beat up my buddy, Evan. Turned Ross against you all. I’d say he hurt you, all right.”
“Why are we talking about Jasper?” Maggie is flustered, cheeks reddening. “In front of a guest! All I wanted was to have a quiet lunch with you all.”
Quiet falls over the table.
Sympathetic heat licks at my cheeks. Poor Maggie.
“Now, now, lovely,” the older gentleman, Maggie’s boyfriend, says, patting her hand. “Why don’t we finish lunch? We’re just talking, that’s all.”
“The food is delicious,” I say, and dare smile at her. “Everyone’s great.”
She smiles back, and everyone relaxes.
Phew.
“That’s so nice of you to say,” Maggie says and lifts a bowl off the table. “More salad?”
“Yes, please.”
The conversation starts again around me, murmurs and questions and “pass me the roast” kind of talk. Crisis averted, my mind goes back to this Ross and their dad and the fact he hurt this family. The fact Octavia was asking Merc if he called their half-brother and Gigi got upset.
Why would Merc call the guy? What is going on? Is there a connection with the dreams I have of him bleeding?
But why would there be?
But before I get a chance to sit down with Merc and ask him about this shadow family of his living in the small town of Destiny, life takes me back to Memphis.
Griffin is still fighting a hard battle. They need him to go through more chemo and radiation before they operate to take out the tumors, but he isn’t responding well to the treatments.
This is the bad news, and yeah, it’s really grim.
The good news is that Merc has come along with me.
Yeah, he’s right here, magically conjuring up coffee and sandwiches, blankets and whatever else makes life easier while waiting to hear what is going on from the doctors in charge.
My sister seems calmer, at least. She has invited Griffin to stay with her until he gets better. Even if they don’t know if he’ll make it. Even though he still isn’t sure he wants to be with her.
This is complicated.
About as complicated as being with Merc is easy. Where Griffin is a sullen, brooding bad boy—though granted, also sick, but still—Merc likes to wrap his arms around me, kiss me, hold me close, preferably on his lap. He likes to share his sandwiches with me, he asks how I feel, what I need.
And honestly, I can’t wait to get back home so we can have sex again. Those kisses he steals in quiet moments, pinning me against the wall in hallways and passages, kissing the hell out of me, letting me feel how hard he is for me, how bad he wants me…