13

Scotty

The next morning came too fast, which was what usually happened when he stayed up too late. Before he even opened his eyes, Scotty felt angry at the shit day that had to start so damned early. But then Mercy shifted beside him and Mick sighed in his sleep, and the whole day flipped when Scotty’s heart did a crazy skipping thing. He may not be the biggest horndog on Earth, but he loved that both Mercy and Mick were his, that they all belonged to each other now. He was so busy basking in the warm feelings rushing around inside him he didn’t even feel stupid that it took a minute to remember how great the day was going to be. Because it was. How could it be anything short of great? Mick came back home, and Mercy was living with them, and they were all working the yard. It was like someone had asked what he wanted for a change, and then waved a magic wand and made it happen. All of his dreams come true. All of them at once.

Scotty slipped out of bed, and made pancakes and coffee before waking up his loves. He thought about what this new arrangement should be called while he cooked, how he should think of Mercy and Mick now.

Partners? Some people used boyfriend or girlfriend, but that sounded like they were in high school. No, he decided, as he stood at the foot of the bed and watched them sleep—my loves.

They ate in their usual silence, answering Tom whenever he posed a question, but otherwise sticking to the business of getting ready for the day’s work. Halfway down the stairs Scotty heard voices and muted clanging from the shack and raced ahead. When he got halfway to the counter he stopped dead in his tracks. Mick barreled into his back, forcing Scotty to take a few quick steps to keep from falling on his face.

Walt stood, his head popping up from behind the counter. He looked at Scotty and back at the woman beside him, and he actually turned red. Walt turned red. So this is the woman he’s been fucking.

“Scotty, I’d like you to meet Ava. Ava, my grandson.”

Scotty closed the distance between them, shook her hand and leaned against the end of the counter.

“Good morning, Scotty.” She smiled like she knew exactly how good the morning really was, and not only from where she stood. “You’re looking well.”

“Do I know you?” He squinted, but that didn’t help so he felt stupid for doing it. Why did people squint to see something better? Wouldn’t it make more sense to open your eyes wider instead?

The woman, Ava, leaned against the counter on her side, right across from Scotty. “We’ve met, but that was a few weeks ago. At the hospital?”

“Yeah, I remember you. You’re a nurse. Thanks for letting Mick stay.”

“Of course.” She looked around Scotty, nodded at Mick then at Mercy. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

Scotty grinned. He knew Walt well enough to say with a high degree of certainty that he’d told her all about all three of them. Plenty of times. But he could play along, be nice.

“This is Mercy.”

Mercy and Mick both shook hands with Ava, and Mercy thanked her for taking such good care of Scotty in the hospital.

“My pleasure, honey. I hear you’re the one I have to thank for Walt’s free time.” Ava grinned and Scotty thought he could end up liking her.

No, I like her already.

Mercy went behind the counter, and she and Ava kept chatting. Scotty watched them, thinking about all the things they had in common. Ava almost looked as old as Walt, and at least as tough but with a softness that intrigued him. Like Mercy, her hair had probably been black when she was younger, but it was mostly gray now. Ava was tall and slim, and looked like flipping her shit on the wrong day could be deadly, but she also radiated a motherly competence that made him almost want to go behind the counter and give her a hug.

“Just like in Lost Boys.” Scotty surprised himself by muttering out loud.

Four heads whipped around to look at him, but it was Mercy who asked, “What?”

“You remember. The head vampire wanted to find a mother for all the young, Lost Boy vampires.” To his horror, Scotty blushed.

A moment later Ava and Mercy started laughing. Not mocking laughter, the look on Mercy’s face was nicer than that, which helped Scotty get past the hard truth in his own words.

“Ava…” Scotty leaned against the counter and tried to pretend he hadn’t just blushed, “…you’re in deeper than she was. But if you can handle Walt, the three of us shouldn’t be any trouble.”

Scotty winked at Walt, and Walt grabbed him in a tight hug—a startling display of affection since the yard was open and anyone could walk in and see it. Walt didn’t release Scotty, he hooked an arm around the back of his neck and walked them toward the back door and the yard. He tossed a comment over his shoulder about something needing attention.

Mick

Ava, Mercy and Mick watched Walt and Scotty walk under the roll-up door and out into the late summer sunshine, disappearing into the glare almost immediately. The gals to Mick’s right both sighed softly and a loose warmth spread in his chest. After another moment’s contemplation of Scotty’s ass and how good it looked swaggering away in his clean jeans, Mick went to the coffee machine and poured himself a cup. The pot was almost empty, so he took it to the sink, rinsed it out and started a fresh pot brewing. When he finished, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled and he turned to find both ladies contemplating him. In very different ways.

Mercy winked and laughed. “Walt must trust us, Mick, to leave us alone with Ava.”

“Or he just wants to see what’ll happen.” Mick grinned and Ava laughed. Her laugh sounded husky, like all the women he’d known in his childhood. Mick could almost see her in her youth, with a smoke and a beer and a naughty grin—like his own mother and her friends, like Wanda and the gals she ran with.

“He’s hoping I’ll fill you both in so he won’t have to say everything twice.”

That got Mick’s and Mercy’s attention, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to learn what was going on with Walt. Mercy might’ve gone a little pale, and Mick didn’t know which he feared more, health problems or the sale of the yard.

“Walt wants to retire. At the end of the year, or maybe in the spring. I’m retiring in January.”

“Retiring?” Mercy said it slowly, like she wasn’t quite sure of the meaning of the word itself. “As in, not working anymore…”

“I know, honey, it’s sudden.” Ava hesitated for a second and then wrapped an arm around Mercy’s shoulders. “He only decided to see reason a couple of days ago, after he saw how well you run the place without him.”

“He’s okay, though?” Mercy’s face paled even more, and her eyes reddened in the time it took to ask that question.

“Yes, he’s fine. His recent weight loss is from exercise, not illness.” Ava smiled, and though it wasn’t a wicked smile, her meaning was easy to see.

Mick turned away, grateful for the bulletin board and the new orders. The list was longer than usual, and Mick thought it would be a good day to spend out in the wilds, what Scotty called the far reaches of the yard. He’d immersed himself in organizing his plan of attack as the ladies talked about Walt’s retirement and what that meant for everyone. Mick half-listened, confident his future was being planned well enough without any interference from him. It would do Walt good to spend time relaxing or, apparently, on a road trip to Spokane and Calgary to see Ava’s relatives.

Ava had just mentioned their debate over which house to live in and which to sell when Mick heard the ding from the front of the main building. After Ernie’s visit, Walt had installed an old-fashioned driveway alarm left over from the days when the wrecking yard had a gas pump out on the far side of the front parking lot. A signal hose, just like the kind Mick remembered stomping on as a kid every time he walked past the service station on his way to school, ran along the floor right past the front door and along the doorway between the main building and the shack. Mick had doubted it would accomplish anything—a person could just step over it and there went their security. But, unless Scotty had gone out to the street for something and come back in the front door, someone had just entered the main building. Mick held his breath and listened. Waiting. He didn’t have to wait long.

Mercy had just started toward the front when Mick heard the sound of boots running over the concrete floor. He grabbed for the panel hiding the shotgun and Mercy’s arm at the same time. Mercy’s crack about hanky-panky in the shack covered the sound of the door between the buildings as its hinges squeaked open.

Mick’s world slowed like it did in the action movies Scotty liked to watch—he knew things were happening quickly, but for once he had time to react. He pushed Mercy back and down and did a one-handed pump of the shotgun, just like Keith had taught him. Mick thought it unnecessarily flashy at the time—maybe dangerously so—but having one hand free to get Mercy out of the line of fire was practical and very necessary.

A second later, Ernie threw the door open and burst into the room. His pistol had to look tiny in comparison to the holes aimed at his chest, and he skidded to a stop, eyes bulging. Mick concentrated on Ernie’s face, and not how the barrel of the gun shook in his hand.

“Turn around and go.” The sound of his own voice, forceful and even, bolstered Mick’s confidence he was doing the right thing. And that it would work. “You’re in violation of a restraining order but I’ll let you leave. Or stay, and the best you can hope for is a night in jail.”

Ernie quickly scanned the shack behind Mick, not sure what to do in the face of this unexpected resistance. Mick had seen the look before, on men who were used to getting their own way all the time because they were willing to insist on it with violence. Mick watched Ernie closely as he seemed to run through a few scenarios, a short list of choices that Mick hoped didn’t include anyone outside of the two of them. All Mick cared about was keeping the ladies behind him safe from the tweaker with the gun, getting rid of Ernie one way or the other before Walt and Scotty had a chance to return.

Mick stepped forward and raised the shotgun. Ernie’s eyes crossed for a second and then he whirled and ran out the way he’d come in. Mick listened for a ding, but only heard the door to the street slam shut.

The shack seemed to reverberate around Mick—the silence nearly deafening. He lowered the shotgun and gave a thought to putting it away safely, but didn’t get that far. Mick turned toward the counter. As soon as he saw Mercy and Ava, he started shaking. Mercy took the shotgun and threw her other arm around Mick’s waist. It wasn’t enough to let him keep his feet, but she softened his landing. Mick sat on the floor for—he had no idea how long, sweating, shaking and damn near hyperventilating. Somehow his head ended up between his knees, but since they were up around his ears it didn’t help as much or as fast as he would’ve liked.

Mick’s hearing clicked back into gear at the same time a soft hand slipped across his cheek and under his jaw, lifting gently. “Mick? Say you’re okay, hon.”

“I’m okay.” He couldn’t quite look at Mercy. Sure, he’d done what needed to be done, but then it had ended the same as always, with him a wreck.

“Geez, thank you.” She turned his face up until he couldn’t keep from looking at her, and he didn’t see any ridicule or scorn.

“You and Ava…”

“We’re fine, sweetie.” Ava’s voice shook and sounded huskier than normal. “Thanks to you.”

Mercy hugged Mick tight, and he realized she knelt on the dusty floor beside him. He embraced her, and startled when he felt her shaking.

After a long moment Mercy took a deep, if shaky, breath and sat back on her heels. “Walt took out a protective order against Ernie?”

For a second Mick didn’t grasp what she meant, and then he grinned. He still shook with adrenaline and he hadn’t taken a normal breath yet, but it felt enough like a grin from his side. “No, but he did take one out against your brothers. Ernie just wasn’t leaving fast enough.”

“Good thinking.” Mercy’s look of pride erased some of the sting from being on his ass on the floor.

It wasn’t long before Scotty and Walt returned to the shack. Mick still sat on the floor with Mercy on her knees beside him. After Mick said he was okay, Ava had wordlessly slipped to the far end of the counter—not hovering, but close enough to help if Mick’s lie about being okay turned out to be bigger than even he thought it was.

Scotty made an alarmed sound and Mick heard his boots race closer. “Mick.” He took Mick’s face in both of his greasy hands and turned it up so he could look into Mick’s eyes.

“Mick chased Ernie off, baby. Maybe for good this time. I’ve never seen him run so fast from anyone not wearing a badge.” Mercy sounded so proud, Mick felt some strength returning to his limbs.

“He— Mick, are you okay?”

“I’m okay, Scotty.” Mick’s voice came out steady and he smiled.

For a second Mick thought Scotty was about to punch him in the nose again. Instead, he turned to Mercy and said, “Help me get him up.”

They sat Mick on one of Walt’s stools and for a moment that went on a little too long, four concerned faces surrounded him. Walt nodded and hung an arm around Ava’s shoulders, and they went to the far end of the counter to whisper.

Mick jerked when he realized he had actually chased Ernie off with Walt’s shotgun. Feelings flooded through him, and the strongest was also the least familiar: pride. As Mick thought about what he’d done—and what it might mean to everyone at the shop if, as Mercy thought, Ernie never came back—he felt so much relief he could’ve cried. Finally. Finally, Mick Randall didn’t turn into a coward when someone needed him to act.

But where was the shotgun?

He tried to look for it without being obvious that’s what he was doing. Which lasted all of a few seconds.

“What’re you looking for?” Scotty asked and looked at the clean spot on the floor where he’d found Mercy and Mick.

Mick said “nothing” at the same time Mercy said “I put it away”.

Scotty frowned and Mercy kissed Mick’s cheek.

“Don’t worry, hon. Scotty knows about the shotgun.”

Mick thought about his conversation with Walt when he and Scotty had first returned to work after their time off to let Scotty heal, about security for the yard and what they would do if Ernie or anyone named Taylor decided to pay them another visit. Walt had shown Mick the shotgun and the speed dial number for the cop with the Road Runner who’d become a regular customer, along with a few of his muscle-car-loving buddies. Walt had cautioned Mick not to pull the shotgun without good cause, but also said not to worry if he had to use it. When Mick said he’d been around guns before and knew how to use it, Walt gripped his forearm with much more force than he had thought the old guy possessed and drilled him with a serious and unmistakable look: Keep it away from Scotty.

Scotty’s frown deepened. “Why shouldn’t I know about it?” Before anyone had a chance to answer, he went on. “It came in handy when Chuck was chasing you and he’s still breathing.”

Mick leaned against Scotty and rested his head on his shoulder. A sudden rush of happiness left Mick a little lightheaded. Not only had Scotty followed him across state lines to get him back, he’d also faced down a man more than twice his size to protect him.

A few seconds ticked by, and Scotty made a frustrated sound as he pushed away from the counter and frowned at Mick. “You can’t do crazy shit like that. If he comes back, you go the other way. Ernie is bat-fuck crazy. He makes me look like a sweetheart—”

“You are a sweetheart.” A silly grin popped onto Mick’s face and he couldn’t have wiped it away if he wanted to.

Scotty glanced at Mercy, but kept one eye on Mick. “Did he hit his head?”

Mick laughed and pulled Scotty into his arms, not even caring that they still shook. “I love you, sweetheart.”

Scotty squeezed him once, hard, and then held Mick out at arm’s length, hands tight on his shoulders. “I know that, but I’m serious—”

Mercy rested a hand on each of their shoulders. Before she could say a word, Walt cleared his throat and said he’d lock the gate. A few seconds later he and Ava said goodbye and left—all that time, Mick held Scotty’s gaze while Mercy gently kneaded their shoulders.

After they listened to Walt and Ava drive off the lot, Mick covered Mercy’s hand with his and slowly turned to her. “I love you, beautiful.”

Mercy leaned near enough to rub the tip of her nose against Mick’s. “I love you, honey.” She turned to Scotty, who still frowned in Mick’s direction. “And you, baby. I love you. You’re not wrong about anything, but relax and enjoy the moment we’re having here, okay?”

Scotty started to shake, and his face and neck flushed.

“Scotty…” Mick hooked a finger in Scotty’s belt loop and eased him closer, “…I hear you. I won’t go looking for trouble.”

“Okay, then.” Scotty leaned against Mick, chest to chest, between Mick’s open thighs. His arms wound around Mick and Mercy’s waists.

Mick shivered when Scotty’s warm breath caressed his neck, ruffled his hair.

“I love you, Mick.” Scotty rubbed their cheeks together as he pulled back, and planted a soft kiss on Mick’s lips. After a few seconds he moved away far enough to look into his eyes. A slow smile crept across Scotty’s face.

Mick couldn’t think around the sight of bliss on Scotty’s face. He sighed and Mercy echoed it.

“And you.” Scotty turned to Mercy and rested his weight against Mick in the same motion. “I love you. Don’t be afraid. We’ll be okay. The three of us, together, it’s beyond right, beyond perfect. We’re not dumb kids anymore, we can do it right this time.”

They huddled close for a long time, arms around each other. Not tightly, no need for that, nobody was going anywhere and they all knew it.

After a while they went upstairs and cooked dinner together, and ate it cuddled close on the couch, Mick happily squeezed in the middle. Scotty idly channel surfed until they all began to yawn. With barely two words passing between them they settled in to sleep, skin on skin on skin.