Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Cash is enough though. Because it's just been over a month since that whole kidnapping thing. And I was pretty sure Legion was going to enact some kind of revenge against Cash about it, but there has been no confrontation.
Which should not surprise me, actually. Legion, I've noticed, is not really a confrontational man. He's quiet. Always watching, always listening, but he's not reactive. Posturing isn't something he does.
He's always been like that though. Typically, a man of few words. But also a man of action. When he makes his mind up about something, it's done and there's no goin' back.
"OK," I tell Ms. Charlot. "I'll go take my seat. Thank you so much."
I leave the kitchen smiling. Feeling pretty OK with this moment. Marcus hasn't bothered me, Legion is going to live, Mercy is happy, and even Cash seems satisfied for the moment.
This might be the most peaceful I've felt in years.
I enter the dining room and stop just inside the doorway, taking in the scene. Cash sits at the head of the table, where he's sat since Eleanor died. Mercy's sitting on his right, her legs swinging back and forth beneath the chair, not quite reaching the floor. And Legion—my tattooed, scarred, just-barely-survived-sepsis Legion—is sitting across from her, on Cash's left.
All three of them look up when I enter. But it's Legion who pushes his chair back and stands. He crosses to me in three long strides and kisses me on the cheek, his lips warm against my skin.
"Hey," he says quietly, just for me.
Then he's pulling my chair out—the one next to his, across from Mercy—and waiting for me to sit.
I blink, momentarily frozen. Legion's never pulled out a chair for me. Not once in all the years I've known him. I'm not even sure he's ever seen anyone pull out a chair for anyone else. It's not exactly standard procedure at the Badlands clubhouse.
"Thank you," I murmur, sitting down as he pushes the chair in behind me.
I'm still processing this unexpected gesture when Ms. Charlot appears with steaming plates of lasagna, setting them down in front of each of us before returning with a basket of bread and a large bowl of salad.
The food looks incredible—layers of pasta, meat, and cheese with perfectly browned edges. Mercy doesn't waste any time, immediately digging in with the enthusiasm of someone who's spent most of her life never knowing when the next meal might come.
The table falls silent except for the sound of forks against plates. The quiet stretches just a beat too long, becoming that specific kind of awkward that happens when four people who probably shouldn't be eating together find themselves doing exactly that.
I open my mouth to ask about the weather or something equally banal when Cash beats me to it.
"Mercy," he says, cutting his lasagna into perfect squares, "did you look through that school catalog I gave you yet?"
My fingers tighten around my fork. I glance at Legion, expecting to see his jaw clench or his shoulders tense. But he's just... eating. Focused on his food like Cash hasn't just deliberately brought up the one topic guaranteed to cause friction.
Mercy, however, lights up instantly. "Yes! I read the whole thing. Twice." She sits up straighter, fork momentarily forgotten. "They have a science lab with real microscopes, and an equestrian program with thirty horses, and a climbing wall in the gym and—"
She continues rattling off facts about Rimrock while I watch Legion from the corner of my eye. He continues eating methodically, seemingly unbothered by the conversation happening around him. This is not the reaction I expected. Not even close.
Cash takes a sip of his water, his eyes fixed on Legion over the rim of his glass. "What do you think about Rimrock Academy, Legion?" he asks, setting the glass down with deliberate care. "For Mercy's education."
I hold my breath. Here it comes. The explosion. The argument. The end of this strange, fragile peace.
But Legion just looks up from his plate, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He turns to Mercy—not Cash—and says, "I think it's a great idea, sis."
The smile that breaks across Mercy's face is like nothing I've ever seen from her. Pure, unfiltered joy.
"Really?" she practically shouts, bouncing in her seat. "You mean it?"
"I do," Legion says, nodding once.
"Did you know," Mercy continues, words tumbling out faster than she can form them, "they have uniforms? Real ones with plaid skirts and everything! And the dorms—you get to stay the night! All week long! You only have to come home on weekends!"
She says this last part like it's the most exciting thing imaginable, not seeming to realize what it means—that she'd be away from Legion five days a week. Or maybe she does realize it, and that's part of the appeal. A clean break from her old life, even if just Monday through Friday.