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MERCY
I spent a good hour or so wandering the halls in the dark after my run in with Frank, and, even then, I was too wired to get much sleep after. Now that it’s six in the morning, I’ve given up and decided to get a head start on my day. Wyatt’s likely to get here early, and I want to be ready when he does.
After quickly brushing my teeth and washing my face, I snag a cup of coffee from MaryBeth, who’s trying her best to scrape together a decent breakfast for those still stranded here. How she’s doing all she’s doing from the small and outdated kitchen here, I’ll never know. Next, I check on Chase one more time to make sure he’s still passed out—he is—and then I head outside just in time to catch the sunrise.
Apparently, I’m not the only one thinking along these lines this morning. Wade’s familiar tall build is leaning against the back of his tailgate, a dainty small frame sitting on it beside him, head resting against his shoulder.
“No way,” I gasp, walking up to join them. “You two?” I let out a laugh of surprise. In a million years I never would have pictured Esther and Wade ending up together. “All you two ever did was fight!”
Wade smirks, curling his arm around Esther’s shoulders. “Turns out it was just foreplay.”
Esther rolls her eyes, sliding out of his grip and jumping down from the tailgate to greet me with a proper hug. “So good to have you back,” she says, squeezing me tight.
“Not so much back as I am passing through,” I point out as she releases me. “But I was hoping I’d get to cross paths with you while I’m here.” I raise my brow at the two of them, still shaking my head in disbelief, “though I guess I don’t need to ask what’s new with you.”
Esther’s gaze lifts and shifts sideways to glance at the scruffy beanpole of a man beside her. “Hardly call it new. This guy’s been claiming I’m his girlfriend for at least four years now. Two years of which I haven’t been denying it.”
“Aw, aren’t you two sweet,” I mock, though, in their own Wade and Esther way, they’re completely adorable together.
“What about you? Heard you have a new beau and he followed you out here,” Esther says, jumping back up to have her seat on the tailgate beside Wade. “Are we going to get to meet him while you’re here?”
I shrug. “Probably.” I sip the coffee I almost forgot I was holding. “He’ll be working while he’s here. It’s not exactly a planned vacation, he just didn’t want me to have to deal with everything alone. You know, not knowing what shape The Rose is in and all.”
Esther crinkles her brow as if she’s confused by what I’ve said. Then, the corner of her mouth hitches up the way it does when she finds something subtly amusing. “When has anyone in Lacey ever done anything alone? Look at this place. Half the people at the fairgrounds don’t even have to be here, they’re just staying to take care of the ones who do. The Rose will be no different. Whatever you need, you know the whole town will show up for you.”
“Oh, I know,” I say, looking down at my coffee and thinking of MaryBeth, who I haven’t seen sit still since I arrived, too busy treating every person stranded here like they’re her own personal houseguest. “But Chase doesn’t. He hardly even knows his neighbors, and he’s lived in the same building for seven years.”
Neither Esther nor Wade says anything, but I can feel the wave of pity making its way in my direction. I don’t expect them to understand. They’ve spent their entire lives in Lacey’s little bubble. It’s a beautiful place to be, but it’s a far cry from reality for the rest of the world.
“Well, isn’t this just like old times,” a high-pitched voice chirps from behind. I turn around to find Camden walking toward us, her arm hooked into someone’s. His head’s down, hiding under a hat and it takes me a second to recognize him on build and swagger alone. It’s Frank. And Camden. Frank and Camden.
“Good morning,” I sputter, flustered by the sight, but determined not to let it show. What do I care if Frank and Camden are a couple now? I don’t. Fine. I do. But I can work on that.
“Mercy, less than twenty-four hours into your return and you’re right back to dressing like a farmer,” Camden chides. “And here I thought life in the city had brought you at least one improvement when I first saw you yesterday.”
I have half a mind to tell her I’m wearing her boyfriend’s clothes and let her guess how I came to be in possession of his pants, but that might draw attention to the fact I’m also wearing her now ruined sneakers, and that’s not going to do me any favors here. “You know me and my forlorn fashion sense.”
“Forlorn, indeed,” she simpers.
Now that the crowd is growing and the peace of sunrise is fading, I’m feeling a newfound urgency to get on with the day’s events. “Esther,” I say, directing my attention away from Camden and her snooty expression and back to my friend, “did your dad happen to mention what time he was coming out this way? I think he’s supposed to ride out with me to go see The Rose.”
“Actually,” Frank chimes in for the first time since strolling over, “there’s been a change of plans.”
“There has?” Camden looks as surprised as I feel.
“He’s not going to be able to take you.”
“Oh.” I bite my lip trying to fight back the disappointment.
“So, it’s going to be you and me instead,” he finishes. Instantly, I see Camden’s grip on his arm tighten.
“You? I thought you were leading the group out to do rescue and recovery on the eastside of town where the flooding’s been the worst,” she says, an underlying desperation in her tone.
“Wade’s leading them. They’ll be fine,” Frank assures her. Though, I notice, he’s also untangling his arm from her grip. He never did appreciate feeling tied down or controlled. I’d think Camden of all people would know that, given their families have been close three generations back and they’ve known each other since before they left the womb.
“Well, when will you be back?” she asks, as if she’s still trying to find some small shred of him to cling to, even if it’s just the hope of his return.
He shrugs. “As soon as we can, I imagine.” Then he looks to me. “You ready, then?”
I nod. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Although... “I should probably run inside and let Chase know I’m taking off. He was still sleeping last time I saw him.”
But Frank grabs me by the wrist and starts tugging me along deeper into the lot of parked trucks and trailers, the opposite direction of the building. “Camden’s going back that way, I’m sure she’ll let him know.”
I have half a mind to dig my heels in and remind him just who it is he’s attempting to drag around like some ragdoll, but the other half knows I need him to take me out to see The Rose, and fighting with him will only lead to both us standing our ground until one of us dies. Or leaves town. And I just don’t have that kind of time today.
“I see your people skills haven’t improved much,” I mutter under my breath as we approach the trailer and he starts to lower the ramp.
“Guess you could say I don’t have much use for those,” he returns, brow slightly cocked and a half-smirk settling in on his mouth. I expect it’ll be there for the day now. Where I’ve always been accused of having resting bitch face, Frank has his own version I like to call resting pompous ass with half-smirk face.
“You know that saying, about being raised in a barn? I’m pretty sure you’re the source of it.”
He grins. “What? Is that supposed to be like an insult?”
“To you? No. I’m pretty sure I’d have to say something nice, imply that you’re civilized in some way, to see you offended.”
He opens his mouth as though he’s going to let another round of comebacks fly out, but nothing happens. Just a quiet chuckle as he steps inside the trailer and begins to back the horses out.
I don’t know if my coffee is already wearing off, or if it’s the serenity that comes with brushing horses, but I feel less compelled to land zingers at Frank’s expense for the time being. He goes quiet also, and we both carry on with getting our horses ready in a sort of silent truce neither of us seems compelled to break.
The peace continues well into our ride and it’s not until we’re half across town that I suddenly feel the urge to open my mouth and say the one thing I should know better than to say.
“So, you and Camden, huh?”
Frank hardly reacts, just makes a weird noise I can’t really classify as an answer. After the awkward moment drags on longer, I start to wonder if he even heard me. I should take this as a blessing, a second chance at making better choices. But I don’t.
“How long have you been an item?”
This time, he turns his head to face me, but it’s brief. “We’re not.”
“What?”
“We’re not an item,” he says, annunciating each word extra clearly so I don’t misunderstand a second time.
“Oh.” I blink, confused by how much I misread the situation. Though, to be fair, my mind has been under a lot of duress as of late, I can’t really be held accountable for anything I may or may not think or conclude or even decide, starting yesterday and until further notice. “Then who?”
Can’t be anyone Camden likes, given her obvious ploys to gain his favor and stake her claim...even if someone else has already stabbed their flag in him.
“No one.” He keeps his eyes straight ahead, but his hands fidget with the reins and Dash’s mane. “I thought we already covered that. My lacking need for people skills and all of that.”
I almost blurt out the obvious fact that not having people skills would hardly keep him from getting a woman, given he’s...well, who he is, but instead I do my best to focus on why I was so certain he had a girlfriend to begin with. “The sneakers. You said they were your woman’s.”
He shakes his head. “No. You said that. I said they weren’t Esther’s.”
“If they’re not Esther’s and you don’t have a girlfriend who leaves her stuff in your trailer, then whose are they?” I’m starting to feel like I’m sounding far more invested in his personal life than I should be. “Because I owe someone a new pair of sneakers. And I’d like to know who, so I can take care of that, replace what I took. I mean, it’s the only decent thing to do.”
But it’s too late. He’s seen right through me. I can tell by the way his pompous ass half smirk has gone full mockery smirk on me now. “Of course. Only decent thing.” He nods dramatically. “One I’m sure my cousin Lucy will appreciate, though she only came for the summer, and I don’t think she’ll be coming back from Arizona to pick up a new pair of the same sneakers she abandoned in my trailer a month ago anytime soon.”
I stare at him, too sour to form words for a second. Then, they come to me. And they’re so obvious I don’t know why they didn’t burst from my lips sooner. “I hate you.”
Frank just returns to his standard pompous ass half-smirk face. “Thin line between love and hate, Red.” Then he clicks his tongue, prompting Dash to speed up just enough to take the lead and leave me staring at the back of his head, fuming in silence.
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FRANK
We’re getting close to the B and B now. I know my dad said it wasn’t too badly damaged, but I haven’t seen it for myself and I have a hunch Mercy’s idea of not bad will be somewhat of a contrast from my dad’s. They’re looking at damage with two completely different sets of eyes. He’s assessing from a practical standpoint, knowing what can be fixed and what it’ll cost. But this is the only true home Mercy will ever have to come back to, and if it’s taken a serious lashing from the storm, even if it’s all cosmetic, it’ll break her heart.
“Listen,” I start, after about fifteen minutes of silence between us. “Before we get there, I think you and I need to have a talk about what we might find.”
Her eyes narrow. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I want you to have your head straight before you see it, so your head can talk sense to your heart, should your heart decide to lose its shit and fall apart.” Damn. She’s right. My people skills are in worse shape than I remember.
“I thought the damage wasn’t that bad,” she says, nerves making her voice shake.
“And it’s not,” I pause, trying to find the easiest way to say what I want to say, “in comparison to the Pruitt’s place. That doesn’t mean we’re not going to find plenty evidence of the storm when we get there. The Rose wasn’t spared, it just put up a better fight. You understand?”
“But we can fix it,” she says, and I know she’s asking because she needs me to tell her she’s right.
“Yes, we can fix it. All of it,” I promise. She exhales and some of the tension leaves her body on her breath. Once upon a time, I prided myself on being the one who could do that for her, ease her fear, promise to make right whatever went wrong. That was before. Before the thing that went wrong was us, and I realized I couldn’t make a promise I knew I couldn’t keep.