Leaving Mom to her knitting, I retreated to the shower where I tried like hell to stop thinking about Mercy. She wasn’t the type of woman I usually fucked. Sure, she had one hell of a shell, but she was soft and vulnerable inside. The kind of woman I did everything within my power to avoid. Her face when I’d lifted Ben’s shirt, and she’d seen the damage, the way she’d scrubbed her hands raw, the determination in her eyes as she’d clenched my head and held me to her pussy… Mercy felt things. The pain, the sorrow, the ecstasy—she plainly wore it all on her face. I’d been trying not to feel shit for so long I’d forgotten what honest emotions looked like.
She was fucking gorgeous.
Breathtaking when she came.
Like me, she’d wanted to call an ambulance, but she was loyal. She stood by her brother instead.
And I respected the hell out of her for that.
Even though it made me want to shake her.
But none of this mattered, because I was leaving for Africa soon.
And she’d kicked my ass to the curb.
Finished with my shower, I dressed and then retrieved the rest of the Christmas decorations from the attic, carrying them into the living room. Mom had probably wondered why I’d showered before going into the attic, but the smell of Mercy on me was driving me crazy. Without the hint of perfume on my skin, I thought I’d stop thinking of her, but that wasn’t the case.
“Want the tree in front of the window?” I asked, leaning against the sofa.
“Yes, please. Right in the center.” She looked so pleased that I was here doing this for her that guilt speared me in the gut. I’d missed a lot of Christmases. I didn’t realize how my absence must have affected her.
From now on, I’d have to come home more often.
Mom and I decorated the tree as she told me about her job. Every time she mentioned Mercy, which was often, the damn woman popped into my head. I wondered whether Ben had come back. If the two of them were in trouble.
“Your phone’s on, right?” I finally asked Mom when I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Yes. Why?”
“Ben could return and need me to look over his injuries again.”
Mom grabbed her phone from the coffee table and checked it. “Just a text from my friend Marla, but nothing from Mercy. Do you want her number so you can check in?”
“No. I don’t… It’s none of my business. You said she’s private. I’m sure she’ll call if she needs me.”
Mom eyed me but lowered the phone. “I’m sure she will.”
Damn. I was hoping she’d check in on Mercy.
“She’s got a great sense of humor,” Mom said. “And she loves kids. She’ll make an excellent mom.”
I rubbed my left temple, where a headache was forming, and didn’t respond. I wasn’t trying to wife the woman; I just wanted to make sure she wasn’t dead in a ditch somewhere. “Think I’ll go set up the Christmas village.”
Mom pursed her lips together and nodded. Then she plucked a red cloth from the box and handed it to me. “Put this under it so it doesn’t scratch the buffet.”
I would have been a lot more grateful for the reprieve from Mom’s attempt at matchmaking if I could stop thinking about Mercy, but alone time wasn’t the answer.
As I neatly laid out the fabric and began strategically placing the miniature pieces one by one, my head spun.
Why had Ben been so upset about my presence?
What agreement had she broken?
Why the fuck couldn’t I get her off my mind?
She wasn’t just private; she was a goddamn mystery, one I had no business trying to solve.
Shrugging off the whirlwind of unanswerable thoughts, I focused on something I could actually control and finished building the tiny scene in front of me.
