“Hand shakes are for strangers. Hugs are for the man that has made my friend ridiculously happy.”
I heard Jason chuckle and as the shock of Tuesday’s attack wore off, he hugged her back.
After they broke apart Tuesday looked around the kitchen and her mouth dropped open. “And you cook? I know that delicious smell from whatever is on the stove is not coming from something Mercy made.”
“Hey. That’s . . .” I couldn’t think of anything to say other than to point out the obvious.
“The truth,” Tuesday finished my sentence. “It is no secret you can’t cook, friend.”
“I know. But, jeez, you don’t have to remind him.”
“Baby, I’ve told you a hundred times, there are many, many reasons why I love you. You not knowing how to cook doesn’t even register.”
“I think I just swooned. Please tell me you have a brother.”
“Sorry. Four sisters.”
“Do they all look like you?”
“Yep. They are all stunning,” I answered for Jason.
“Damn. Your poor dad.”
Jason chuckled and shook his head. “Dad? What about me? I’ve had to threaten every teenager within fifty miles to stay away from them.”
“Ah. The overprotective type. Nice.”
“Damn right.”
Jason went to the kitchen to finish dinner, and Tuesday eyed his ass as he walked away.
“Tuesday,” I snapped.
“What? I just wanted to make sure he looked just as good from the backside.”
Jason barked a laugh and I shook my head. “If you’re done ogling my man’s ass, I’ll get you something to drink.”
“I wasn’t ogling. I only ogle available men’s butts. I was merely making sure—”
“Right.”
I knew Tuesday wouldn’t touch Jason with a ten-foot pole. She was just being her normal, crazy self. Nothing she said or did shocked me anymore. If there was one thing Tuesday was, it was loyal. She’d never betray our friendship.
Dinner went just how I knew it would. Tuesday and Jason hit it off. We all sat around and laughed until we cried. Tuesday told us wild stories about her time in Italy and Germany. Everything from wardrobe malfunctions to prima donna, diva models walking off of the set of photoshoots. She had us in stitches with all her tales.
By the time Tuesday left I was exhausted. I didn’t protest when Jason walked us upstairs, stripped me naked, put me in bed, and tucked me close to his chest. I was asleep within minutes. I should’ve felt great after the night we’d had. But my heart was heavy.
25
As much as I’d love to stay in bed with Mercy all day, I had a surprise. She didn’t know we had plans for the day, but we did. And if she didn’t stop grinding her ass on me, we wouldn’t be getting out of this bed, and we’d be late.
“Morning,” she yawned.
“Sleep well?”
“Mmm.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
I started to roll away when she caught my arm. “What’s the hurry? It’s Saturday.”
“Come on. We have plans.”
“Plans?” she groaned. “And they involve us not being in bed all day?”
“Yep. I’m taking you somewhere.”
“Where?”
“It’s a surprise.” Mercy turned and buried her head in her pillow. I knifed up, pulling the covers back as I went. Now it was my turn to groan. Creamy naked flesh greeted my eyes. “Up you go. Before I change my mind.”
She rolled to her back, cupping her breasts as she went. “You sure we can’t stay here?”
“You’re killing me.”
“Oh, all right. I’ll get up. Do I have time to shower first?”
My mouth had gone dry at the sight of her. “Yep. I’ll start the coffee.”
I grabbed the pants I’d kicked off last night and shoved my feet through them and fled the room. She was too tempting. We’d spent a lot of time together. Mostly locked away in her house. I wanted to take her out on a date, do something fun.
I waited in the kitchen for the coffee to finish brewing and loaded the dishwasher and cleaned up the last of the dinner mess. The shower turned off, signaling it was now safe for me to return to the bedroom.
Yes, I was that weak. I needed to wait until she was done and dried off before I reentered. Two cups of coffee in hand I made my way back into the room. I set my coffee down on the nightstand and was happy to see Mercy was dressed and had a towel around her wet hair when I entered the bathroom.
She turned, and my eyes narrowed. What the fuck? Was that a hypodermic needle between her teeth? She had her shorts pulled down on one side, exposing her hip. I watched as she cleaned the area with an alcohol square before she took the needle from her mouth and gave herself an injection.
“What the fuck?”
“Oh, sorry, are you squeamish around needles?” She recapped the syringe and used the alcohol swab to rub the injection site.
Was I squeamish around needles? Had she lost her fucking mind? No. I was goddamn pissed my girlfriend was injecting herself with something.
In an instant white-hot fear took over my body. Memories flooded. All the times I’d had to give Kayla a needle when she was going through cancer treatment. Cleaning her ports, changing her bandages.
“Are you okay?”
Mercy’s voice barely registered through my haze.
“Are you sick?” I finally spat out.
“I have pernicious anemia,” she answered.
“What?”
“My body lacks a protein. Intrinsic factor. It doesn’t absorb B12 and it causes me to have a low red blood cell count.”
I couldn’t pull my eyes from the needle now on the vanity top. It was like a red, flashing warning light. Mercy was sick. Low red blood cells. I knew all about low blood counts. White. Red. Platelets. Blood transfusions. Bone marrow. Chemo. Radiation. Been there.
“Jason?”
My gaze traveled from the offending needle to her pretty face. She didn’t look sick. But neither had Kayla—before. Why would Mercy do this to me? Why would the universe? Two women. Both sick. This was my punishment. My reminder I didn’t deserve to be happy. I was a failure.
“I can’t do this.”
“What?” Confusion marred her features.
I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t formulate a coherent sentence, not with the fucking needle mocking me. I started to back out of the bathroom. I needed to leave.
“Don’t do this, Jason. I’m not sick. Just stop for a minute and let me explain.”
Explain?
“I can’t, Mercy. I’m sorry. I need to leave.”
“Please.” I didn’t need to face her to hear the tears.
I grabbed the rest of my clothes off the floor and quickly dressed. I was dizzy, and the coffee I’d barely sipped was threatening to make a reappearance.
Fuck.
“Don’t walk out on me, Jason.”
“I’m sorry.”
“If you’re sorry then stay and listen to me. You need to breathe.”
I didn’t need to breathe, I needed to leave. I was going to hyperventilate at any moment. I couldn’t stop the onslaught of emotions, the biggest one was fear. Dread wasn’t far behind. I was almost at the front door when Mercy’s sob tore through my heart.
“You said you loved me.” My hand froze on the doorknob. “If you walk out that door all you’re proving is you never loved me. You never meant anything you’ve said to me. And once you prove yourself to be a liar, the bridge will be burned. I’m begging you one more time to stay and talk to me about this. All I need is five minutes, and you’ll understand.”
“I love you, Mercy. But I can’t stay. I can’t do this again. I’m sorry.”
I opened the door and cursed the crisp fall air as it hit me in the face. I couldn’t remember the drive back to my house but the next thing I knew I was walking in my front door.
I couldn’t breathe.
I ne
ver wanted to breathe again.
“Fuck!” I roared and slammed the door. Shutting out the world. Closing off my life to love—to Mercy.
26
I’d spent two days in bed.
Two days sobbing.
Two days trying to purge every feeling I had for Jason out of my system. It hadn’t worked. Funny how before Jason had come along, I’d never felt lonely. I could always find some way to entertain myself, occupy my time, be happy. But now that I knew a man like Jason existed, I was lonely. My bed felt too big. My house too empty.
I’d ignored Tuesday’s many calls. I didn’t want to talk, have to explain that Jason had left me over my monthly B12 injection. Why hadn’t I talked to him about it sooner? Because it wasn’t a big deal, that’s why. There was nothing wrong with me that a simple vitamin shot couldn’t fix. I wasn’t dying. I wasn’t sick. If I missed a shot my symptoms were fatigue and headaches. I didn’t even take medication, it was a vitamin for God’s sake.
He’d left me.
I’d begged him not to, and he’d walked out the door.
I’d never dreaded going to work before, but, today, I wanted to be anywhere but there. I was sure I looked like a haggard mess, even after I’d spent an hour trying to cover the dark circles under my eyes. All I wanted to do was stay holed up in my office and not leave. Thank God, the case we’d been working on was wrapped up and I didn’t have to work with him. That would have killed me.
I’d come in thirty minutes early this morning so I could rush upstairs and not run into him. I needed to snap out of this shit. This wasn’t me. I didn’t avoid—I hit shit straight on.
My landline rang, and I jumped. Get it together, Mercy.
“James.”
“There you are. Finally come up for a breather?” Tuesday. I groaned not wanting to have this conversation at work. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing . . . everything. Can I call you when I get home?”
“Not with an answer like that you can’t. What are you doing for lunch?”
“Working.”
“Bullshit. You’re meeting me at the deli.”
I knew what deli she was talking about. It was our go-to eatery when we met on my lunch hour.
“Seriously. No time today. I have a—”
“Make time.”
“Tuesday—”
“We’re having lunch, final answer. If you’re not there at noon I’ll go by your office and ask Jason where you are.”
“Don’t do that,” I seethed.
“Thought so.”
What in the world was she talking about? I was too tired to talk around a riddle. Lunch with Tuesday was not what I needed. She’d want to rehash every detail of my very painful last conversation with Jason.
“I’m not sure what you think you know. But I really can’t do lunch. Please.”
“Damn. Fine. But I’ll be over tonight with a bottle of wine and Chinese. If you’re not there. I’ll wait all night if I have to.”
“Chinese won’t help this time,” I breathed.
“Didn’t think it would, sweets. Neither will the wine. But you and me, we can get through anything.”
I had to fight back the tears when Tuesday’s whispered words hit my broken heart. She’d been my person for so long I didn’t know what I’d do without her. Normally she had all the answers. She was my sounding board. But I wasn’t sure she could help sooth this particular ache in my chest. No one could.
“Thanks.”
“Always. See you tonight.”
I replaced the receiver and sat back in my chair. I didn’t want to discuss Jason—at all. But at least Tuesday caved and would wait until after work.
Time seemed to creep by, I must’ve checked the clock every ten minutes. Even the hour-long conversation with the FBI agent in charge of the fraud case against the nursing home hadn’t taken my mind off my problems. After my dad had died, work had been my salvation. I’d been able to throw myself into my caseload and forget I was without siblings and an orphan. I had no one to pick me up and dust me off. No mother to cry to and get advice from. A father to be outraged on my behalf and promise to protect me from the evils of the world. I thought I’d found something special in Jason. I stupidly thought he was the one. On second thought he was the one—the one who would finally break me. The one whom I’d taken my armor off for, and he’d trampled the gift I’d given him.
I left five minutes earlier than normal and quickened my pace when I hit the bottom floor. My heart pounded in my chest as I scurried past Jason’s office. I tried my best not to look in the direction of his door but I still caught the room in my peripheral. The lights were off, he wasn’t even in, and there I was trying to escape the building without him seeing me.
By the time I made it to my car, my breathing was almost back to normal. God, I was so weak. I couldn’t recall the drive home if my life depended on it. One minute I was in the DEA parking lot, the next I was pulling into my garage. I numbly walked into my house and was greeted with nothingness. No aroma of dinner being made. The smell of Jason’s cologne was noticeably absent. Just nothing. An empty house, with a bunch of memories I wanted to forget but couldn’t.
I hated that my heart was shattered, that I could remember every touch, every sweet word, every cuddle on the couch, my bed, the shower. Damn them all. Damn him. Why did he make me fall in love with him only to turn and push me out of his life? And what was so wrong with me that I desperately wanted to hear his voice? See his smile one more time instead of the anguish that marred his handsome face. Screw that. So what if he was good looking. There were a lot of handsome men out there. And who cared if he knew exactly what I needed before I did, that was just sex, really good, awesome sex. Sex and love are two different things. He never loved me anyway. I was on the right track. The more I told myself lies the more pissed I became. Anger was my friend. Rage would get me through this heartbreak. It had to.
The front door swung open, and I despised myself for hoping. For holding my breath.
“Hey,” Tuesday said.
My lips drew in, and I pinched them together as hard as I could as disappointment raced through my body. Damn, I was stupid. He wasn’t coming back. Not today. Not ever.
“Oh, shit,” she muttered and jogged to me, pulling me into a hug. “Shit, Mercy.”
The unwanted tears streamed down my face. I didn’t bother to wipe them away. Now that the faucet had opened there was no stopping them.
“He’s gone,” I admitted.
She didn’t reply. There was nothing to say. Standing in the middle of the living room I thanked my lucky stars for my friend. The only tried and true person in my life. And then I promised myself I’d never feel this pain again.
27
It had been the worst week of my life and that was saying something. All the feelings I thought I’d worked through about Kayla had come rushing back with a vengeance. Ugly shit I never wanted to think about again looped in my mind. Kayla dying in my arms morphed into Mercy holding onto me, begging me not to leave her. My dreams confused the two, and I was tortured nightly by Mercy dying.
I hated myself for hurting her. I was a failure and a fucking coward—two times over.
The banging on my front door pulled me from my self-recrimination. No one other than my family would pound on my front door on a Saturday morning. They’d all repeatedly called me, and I’d sent them all to voicemail. I couldn’t tell them what I’d done. How badly I’d screwed up again. The only question was who was here? My dad, my mom, my sisters? I didn’t want to face any of them.
“Glad to see you’re breathing.” My dad stepped into the kitchen where I was pouring myself coffee.
I didn’t bother answering. He wasn’t looking for one anyway. By the look on his face, he was pissed. Yet another fuck-up on my part.
“How long has it been since you’ve talked to Mercy?”
“A week.”
“Thought so.” My dad studied me with a look that could only be desc
ribed as disappointment. At least I hoped it was and not disgust. Though, I couldn’t blame him if it was. I was pretty disgusted with myself. “So you’re back to living in this hell hole with the curtains closed, moping, pacing the floor, and feeling sorry for yourself?”
“What the fuck? Sorry for myself? My wife died, and that’s what you call it?”
“How long do you think you’re gonna play that card?”
What in the actual hell? Who was this man? The dad I knew was strong and compassionate. He’d had high expectations of us, punished us when necessary, but he’d always handled us with care. This was the cool Special Operator he kept away from the family. If he’d wanted the kill shot, he’d succeeded.
“Until I’m over it.”
“You’ll never be over it. Wanna know why?” He didn’t give me a chance to answer. “Because you won’t let yourself be. You hide behind it. You wallow in your misplaced guilt. I’ve watched my son, for goddamn years slowly waste away. No more, Jason. Not one more fucking day will I watch. Get over yourself.”
I wasn’t sure what hurt more. My dad’s revulsion or that he’d called me Jason. He’d called me Bud since the day he met me when I was six. Never Jason.
“Guilt—”
“Do not try and bullshit me. I am intimately familiar with the feeling. I lived and breathed regret and guilt for years. I can smell its stench anywhere. And you reek of it. It oozes from your pores. You did everything you could for Kayla. There is nothing for you to feel guilty about.”
“I didn’t do anything for her but fail her.”
“No, you—”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about!” I shouted.
“You did everything you could,” he repeated.
“Except love her.” My dad froze. I bet he hadn’t seen that coming. I bet he would’ve never guessed that the boy he’d raised to be a man was a fraud. “She deserved a man that loved her the way a husband should. A man that desperately wanted to make love to her. Adored her. Want to touch and cuddle her close. That was not us. That man was not me. She knew it. I knew it. Everything was a fucking lie, Dad. Everything. She was finally leaving me. She was supposed to finally get everything she deserved. Then she got sick again, and I refused to give her the divorce she wanted. So you tell me how I did everything I could for her. Huh? Now you know what a fuck-up I really am. My wife was leaving me.”
Finding Mercy: The Next Generation Page 13