Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 40966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
"When did she leave?" I ask over my shoulder.
No answer from Mercy, who's hovering in the hallway, watching me.
I push open the door to my room. It's exactly as I left it three years ago—bed still made with military corners, empty walls, nothing personal here. Not one damn thing because this old trailer was never ‘home’.
And in the center of the linoleum floor, a dead mouse, dried to leather.
It stares back at me, those blank, black, beady eyes, as if to say, welcome home, Legion.
Some homecomings are celebrations.
Others are funerals for the life you thought you'd return to.
I back out of my room, leaving the dead mouse as a memorial to what happens when you disappear for three years. Some things just shrivel up and die when you're not there to keep them breathing.
Not that I had any responsibility to the local rodents, but an omen is an omen.
Back out in the hallway the walls press in and the whole place just feels small and completely insignificant. Mercy trails behind me, her bare feet silent on the linoleum. That BB gun's still in her hands, but pointed down now.
Progress, I guess.
“Who’s been feeding you?” I ask.
Mercy just stares at me.
“Who brought the groceries, Mercy?”
She’s not gonna answer.
She doesn’t need to answer. I already know who it was.
"I need some air," I mutter, and go back outside where the afternoon sun beats down like judgment. I cross the yard to the old oak tree that holds the remnants of a tire swing, then run my fingers over the bark, finding what I'm looking for about chest height. The carving I made when I was fifteen.
S + L
Only it no longer says that. Cause it’s been crossed out with deep gashes. Not weathered cuts, either. Recent ones.
"She was mad at you."
Mercy's voice startles me. She's standing a few feet away, BB gun held loose at her side.
I turn to face her. "Savannah did this?"
Mercy nods, then looks away. "You make her sad."
I made Savannah promise not to write me because it was over. Like, moved-on kind of over.
She moved, I moved on.
Except, we got this love that doesn’t quite know how to move on.
So fine. She was mad. I make her sad.
Now she’s engaged. Or will be as soon as that party happens. So… yeah.
Over.
"How often does she come?" I ask, keeping my voice neutral.
Mercy shifts her weight, looking less feral now that she's talking. "Twice a month, mostly." She picks at a scab on her elbow. "More after Destiny left."
"When did Destiny leave?"
"Two months ago." Mercy looks up at me, her eyes suddenly older than nine. "She's pregnant."
“Uh huh.” The Kane family curse: we break everything we touch, including ourselves.
I scrub a hand over my face, feeling three days of stubble and a lifetime of failure. I'm supposed to be the one who protects them. Some fucking job I've done.
I go back inside, head straight for the landline mounted on the kitchen wall, and punch in the number I've had memorized since I was eighteen.
It rings twice before a gruff voice answers. "Yeah?"
"It's Legion."
A pause, then: "Holy shit! Kane! Where the fuck are you, brother?"
Brotherhood. It’s the family you choose when blood fails you. And this man right here—Diesel, he’s never failed me. All of a sudden, clarity hits and it comes in the form of background noise. Pool balls clacking, men laughing, music playing.
“I’m at home,” I say. For the first time today, I feel something like relief. “Got out a day early.”
I feel somethin’ like… belonging. These men—whatever else they are—they're my brothers. They'd kill for me. Die for me.
“Bring me my bike," I tell Diesel. And now, it’s time to feel the freedom. To really feel what it means to walk out of that cage I put myself in. "And hey,” I add, before Diesel ends the call. “Bring an extra helmet for my sister.”
I hang up and turn to find Mercy watching me, something like hope in her eyes. Which is a really dangerous emotion because it makes you believe in second chances.
"Pack a bag. We're not staying here tonight."
Her eyes widen. "Where are we going?"
"Somewhere safe."
Mercy disappears down the hall as I step outside and light a smoke.
I breathe in failure. Breathe out reality.
Because fuck this place.
And fuck Savannah too.
Maybe she did come here. Maybe she did take care of Mercy.
But she's wearing another man's ring and I'm not fourteen anymore.
I deserve better. Love doesn't wait. Never waits. But I think I deserve more than some jacked-up posturing from Cash as her only goodbye.
Some chapters end with periods.
Others end with matches.
And I have a very strong urge to light this love up and watch it burn.
CHAPTER 4
The sun hangs low against the backdrop of the barn, the golden hour at hand. I stand at my bedroom window, bathing in the dying light.