And it worked, I guess. Because all that other shit happened.
I came home, and Adam came home, and McKay came home, and Nathan came home, and Maggie came home.
And then… and now… yeah. It’s a trip.
I wasn’t supposed to tell Donovan that Ana was alive and waiting for him, and I didn’t. Not just because it would ruin his surprise but also because he needed to do this challenge alone.
We all did.
We needed to face the world, and ourselves, and our fears—even those of us who have no fears—and just accept life for what it is.
Sometimes beautiful.
Sometimes horrifying.
Sometimes soul-crushing.
And sometimes breathtaking.
Everything about the last three months has been all these things.
And I know it’s not the real world, and that I have never actually lived in the real world. But Sasha says it’s OK to press pause and stay where you are for a while.
I’m gonna stay here for a while. I’m gonna stay here, and get to know myself again. And get to know Nathan St. James again.
And we’re gonna get better.
Together.
One day though, I promise myself.
One day, I will move on.
CHAPTER THIRTY- FIVE - MERC
“So. How’s things?” Sasha is… well. Just the same old Sasha as far as I can tell. It’s been eight months since she woke me up from a Lectra-induced stupor and guided me through the marshy woods to the Old Pearl River.
I could lie to her and say it’s all good and crystal-clear. But it isn’t. And I want her to know that. But first, I look around my backyard to find all the familiar faces.
I keep track of them like this now. Constantly checking. Even more so than before.
It’s not paranoia. Paranoia is something you feel when you’re scared and you can’t quite make sense of things. No. This isn’t paranoia.
I’m not scared. I’m fuckin’ ready.
This is the first time we’ve all been together since that night.
Jax and Sydney are talking and laughing with beers in their hands over near the grill. Daphne and Lauren—not inside for once—are sitting at a picnic table, gossiping about boys and all the other normal things that teenagers do. And Avery, Lily, Jacob, and Sasha’s new addition—Maggie—are all running around the fake beach I put in several years back, playing some kind of tag game.
Present and accounted for.
So now I can face Sasha and tell her the truth. “Yeah.” I sigh. “I’ve still got questions.” But what I’m really saying is… I need answers.
She smiles at me. “OK. Your patience is probably running low. So. Shoot.”
“Donovan?”
“He’s OK. Getting better every day.”
“He’s OK? Is he a double, or isn’t he?”
It’s Sasha’s turn to side-eye the location of everyone present. “Of course he is, Merc.” Her gaze meets mine. “His grandfather did horrible things to him as a boy. There is no way to undo that kind of damage. It’s done.”
“But you’re mitigating it, or something, right?”
“Sure. We’re mitigating.”
“I’m not convinced. And to be perfectly honest, I’m not comfortable leaving that guy alive.”
“It’s not really up to you.”
“So what you’re saying is, it’s up to you?”
She smiles at me. “Yes. It’s up to me. And he’s not going anywhere.”
“How can you say that? He’s… sick, Sasha.”
“Is he?”
I almost guffaw.
“Merc. I shouldn’t have to tell you this, but I’m going to anyway. Belief is a powerful thing.”
“So are lies,” I deadpan.
This makes her pause, which feels like a win. “He believes he’s cured, Merc. And so, because he has this belief, he is cured.”
“Except he’s not.”
“You missed the point. He believes he is. Carter—for lack of a better name—hasn’t shown back up. He’s under twenty-four-seven surveillance. He has a therapist. He takes mood stabilizers. It’s been almost eight months since we left Old Home. Almost five since he came out of his initial survival intensive. If he didn’t believe in his cure, trust me, Carter would’ve shown up in the first three months. We pushed him hard. Indie, too. She—” Sasha holds up a hand. “I know you’re not interested in Indie, but she’s thriving. Better than ever. I’ve known her for a very long time now. She was one of the first girls I met after Jax. She had run away for—who the hell knows with Indie. Everything is a crisis. Everything is drama. But she couldn’t remember why she had run away. We had already set up the safehouse—resort, we like to call it—in Wyoming. So I took her there. Boy, she was a mess. We did occasional two-week intensives after that. Sometimes she even worked for me. Donovan was there too. Carter, or whoever that personality is, because we know he’s not Carter. He was there too, on occasion. Ana was the one who found him while she was in medical school. She brought him to the resort as both Carter and Donovan. She was the glue, so to speak. And even though the second personality is a tad more mad-scientist than I would prefer, he’s just searching for his own truth.”