CHAPTER TEN – LOCKE

 

 

FIVE YEARS AGO

 

Mercer doesn’t come home until after midnight. Which is not unusual, but we both know that today was unusual. So he’s been avoiding me.

I’m not the kind of man who allows himself to be discarded so I’m sitting in a wingback chair in his bedroom, sipping on a warm bourbon, when he flips on the lights.

He’s tugging on his tie. Loosening it up. Preoccupied.

Probably with the memory of Nova getting off on my fingers in the woods.

So it takes his gaze a handful of seconds before it sweeps my way. He stops pulling on his tie and frowns. “I have to be honest, Locke. I wasn’t expecting you to be in here tonight.”

We don’t always sleep together. Only when we want to touch each other. It’s been about three weeks since we last had that urge. Which is a long time for us. It might even be another signal that something’s wrong.

I swirl my bourbon. “Why not?”

Mercer practically snorts. Well, huffs. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Silas Mercer snort in his life. Not even when he was seven. “Figured you’ve gotten your fill today. Been getting your fill pretty often the past month.”

I smile. It’s one of satisfaction. Because it’s hard to get Mercer’s hackles up but this thing with Nova is doing it. “Jealous?”

“You wish.”

I don’t. This is not me pretending not to care or anything, either. I really, really do not want to get Mercer jealous. I’m not sure he’s capable of that emotion, to be honest. But if he is, he’s definitely not in control of it.

“I’m not out of bounds, Mercer. And you know it.”

“I do know it.” He turns his back to me, walks to his closet—which is the size of a fucking bedroom—and disappears inside. “But I’m warning you,” he says from the depths of the closet. “If you fuck this up—”

“I’m not gonna fuck anything up. I’m invested. You know that.”

Mercer appears in the closet doorway sans shirt. He is a fastidious manscaper. His chest hairs are dark, but very short. He doesn’t shave them, he… I dunno. I don’t even have a word for it. I just know I like it. So I take my time appreciating his upper body. He’s cut. Hard, lean muscles. He’s like a fucking god, or something.

It’s not really fair. I mean, I’m handsome. I know this. People love to look at me. But Mercer is something else. He’s riding the edge of perfect. And he’s always been this way. Charmed. Fortunate. One might even go so far as to call him blessed.

His belt jingles and then he’s unbuttoning his pants. He steps out of them, carefully, then takes them back inside the closet to hang them up. I study his ass underneath those black boxer briefs until he disappears and have to take a deep breath to stop the hard-on.

He knows he does this to me.

But in all fairness, I’m a rather easy man to excite.

I smile into my drink as I take another sip of bourbon.

The next time he comes out of the closet he’s wearing nothing.

He’s not hard. He’s just… Mercer. Walking around like a naked god.

I used to tease him when we were teenagers because he was always walking around naked. I’ve never met anyone so comfortable in his own skin. But then again, I’ve never met anyone quite like Mercer.

This is why I will never leave him.

There is no one to replace Mercer.

He stops in front of me. “What are you doing, Locke?” It’s a matter-of-fact question. One that implies he’s looking for an explanation about my recent behavior with Nova.

But I’m not really in the mood to talk about Nova. So I just set my glass down, stand up, and slip my t-shirt over my head.

He watches me too. Just like I watch him.

I wish I could be in his head when I take my clothes off because I’m dying to hear his internal monologue. His eyes study my naked body, unashamed. And when they migrate up to meet my gaze, the fight is over.

He reaches for me. His hands come up to my face. And then he’s kissing me. It’s the most perfect kiss. He’s the one who taught me how to kiss. He’s who I emulate when I kiss anyone else. Olsen, or Nova, or anyone else.

When I’m kissing someone, they are all Mercer.

He has ruined me in this life.

I will never get over him.

His hand slides down my chest, then grabs my hand and rubs it against his dick. He’s not fully erect, but he’s getting there. We’ve done this so many times, so I don’t need any more encouragement. I grab him. Fist him. Jerk him off. And we just keep kissing.

It’s long, and slow, and all we do is stand there in the middle of his bedroom and kiss while I hold his cock in my palm until he sucks in a breath, breaks away from my mouth, and comes in my hand.

We stand there for a moment. Breathing heavy. Him satisfied, me not.

He pulls back, his dick slipping from my hand, and then he walks over to the bed and gets under the covers.

And it occurs to me that I’m the sick asshole here. Not him.

Because I do this same thing to other people now.

Nova was easy compared to Olsen.

Olsen made me work for it. And unlike me, he was not going to put up with the lack of satisfaction. He wanted all kinds of things in return.

Some I agreed to.

Some I did not.

Olsen was a constant negotiation that first year. There was a lot of back and forth. But it was good for me. It taught me a lot.

He taught me how to take.

So when Nova came, I took. And I made sure that I was the first one to do it.

And now look at her. One month in and she’s mine. I don’t care that she spends her days, and most of her nights, with Mercer. I don’t care if Mercer takes her on trips. I don’t even care if he fucks her. He won’t, but if he did, I would not care.

She is mine.

I wash my hands in the bathroom, flick the light off, walk around to my side of the bed, then slip under the covers. Mercer reaches for me immediately. He pushes his chest up to my back, face buried in the back of my neck. No hesitation. He will not jerk me off or ever fuck me. But he will kiss me like I’m his long-lost lover and he will hold me like I’m his dying soulmate.

It’s enough.

For now.

When I wake up in the morning, he’s already gone.

But on the pillow next to me is a note.

And in that note is a set of instructions for me to follow.

I smile like a winner.

Because this is a win.

 

 

TODAY

 

“What are you thinking so hard about?”

I’m still in the back garden, on the path, looking out at her sea of purple flowers when this question comes. When I turn, I catch a glimpse of her naked body just before she pulls a long, white silk robe closed and cinches the belt.

She planned that. She wanted to make an entrance.

But I don’t mind.

“Mercer,” I say. Even though that’s not entirely true. I’m thinking about us.

She sighs, then walks over to a white Adirondack chair and sits down, stretching her long, tanned legs out in front of her so her robe separates and almost—not quite, but almost—flashes her pussy before she crosses them. “This is what I don’t get about you.”

“Which part?”

“You want it all, Locke. You’re not satisfied with just me. You never have been.”

I shrug. “What’s wrong with wanting it all?”

“Nothing. I want it all as well.”

“You’re talking about Olsen.”

“Of course. Do you think he lives nearby by accident?”

“So you’re serious?”

“We’ve always been serious. You just never took the time to notice. You were always too distracted by Mercer.”

I scoff. “Me? What about you? I mean, come on, Nova. You and him—”

“We were nothing.”

“That’s not true, and you know it.”

Her face hardens into anger and her words are low and seething. “What he did to me—”

“He didn’t do that to you. You did that to yourself, Nova. It wasn’t him.”

“Maybe you should just go?”

“I thought you said you loved me last night?”

“Right back at ya, Locke.”

“So don’t kick me out. Stop running, for fuck’s sake. Just deal with it. Do you really think you can just spend the rest of your life living this fantasy? Refusing to see the truth?”

“Trust me.” She scoffs. “I have more truth than you.”

“And let me guess, Olsen gave you that truth? Because I’ve got to tell ya, Nova, if you believe that asshole, you’re insane. I found him in prison. I brought him—”

She puts up a hand, cutting me off. “I don’t care.”

“Well, you should care. Because it’s a major part of the fucking story.”

“So you keep saying.”

“A guy like him—”

“A guy like him?” She huffs out a laugh. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

“I’m just saying. Five years is not enough time to change one’s stripes.”

“Five years is more than enough time. He has his own business now.”

“Doing what? Repo man?”

“Why are you being an asshole?”

“He’s a criminal, Nova.”

“So are you. So is Mercer.”

“It’s not the same. Not even close.”

She snickers. “So you keep saying.”

There is a lingering silence after this. And I don’t know what to say next. Last night felt good. It felt right. We were declaring our love for each other.

And then I had to bring up Mercer.

“Ya know, you could have me.”

I look over at Nova. “What?”

“So easy. It would be so easy to get what you want. All you have to do is walk away from him.”

“And then what? Be a happy little threesome with you and Olsen?”

“That’s what you want with Mercer, Locke. It’s not that different.”

I scrub my scratchy face with both hands and sigh. When I look at her again, she’s frowning. “I don’t love Olsen, Nova. I don’t even know him anymore. It’s not gonna happen.”

But I do get what she’s saying. Also what she’s asking. I could be satisfied with Olsen. I don’t hate the guy. I just don’t love him.

She gives me an indifferent, one-shoulder shrug. “Well, I don’t love Mercer. I don’t even like him anymore. So it’s not gonna happen.”

We pause.

This pause lasts for minutes. We stare at each other. We stare at the flowers. We stare at each other again.

Finally, I say, “We love each other though, right? We still have that?”

She nods. “I do love you. I want you. I would even take you, and only you. But you won’t leave him. And I’m not leaving Olsen if you’re not leaving Mercer.” She gets up and turns towards the house. “Coffee’s made.” She peeks over her shoulder. “Want me to bring you a cup?”

“No. I’m coming in with you.”

And that’s how we leave it.

A stalemate.

 

 

We take our coffee to the breakfast table. We sit opposite each other. She puts her feet in my lap. I play with her toes and watch her smile as she tells a story about Veda’s homeschool progress. I like to hear about Veda’s life. I like that she’s smart. I like that Nova’s homeschooling her. She’s been reading for almost a year now. “Her handwriting isn’t that great,” Nova says. “But she’s getting better.”

I like to hear about their life. And when coffee is over, and Nova stands up, extending her hand to me, asking, “Would you like to do chores with me?” I take it, and agree, and she gets dressed in dirty jeans and t-shirt, and we go out to the barn and take care of living things that need us.

We talk, but it’s not real talk. We talk about feed, and hay, and watering schedules. We talk about what she stocks in her store, and we smell soaps, and flowers.

We touch each other a lot. We kiss a little. She never could resist my kisses. Even now, when she knows that my kisses all came from Mercer, she won’t refuse them.

“Why is it so easy when we’re alone, but so hard with other people?” I ask.

She turns to me. We’re done with chores and I’m in her bedroom, watching her naked body in the en suite bathroom. She’s running the water for the shower because we’re dirty. “What?”

“It’s all so easy when it’s just me and you. And so hard with other people.”

She lets out a long breath that comes with a chuckle. “Locke, you’re so twisted.”

“What do you mean?”

“The reason it’s hard is because you want a threesome. That’s not how the real world works. If you would just… get on board with us being a couple, it would be easy all the time.” She must read the look on my face at this suggestion, because she laughs. “That’s so out of the ordinary for you, isn’t it? You can’t even imagine a life without him, can you?”

“He’s my best friend. We’ve known each other since we were children. We work together. We live together. We love each other.”

“See, this is my problem with you, Locke. You’re a couple with him. But you refuse to be a couple with me.”

“We’re not a couple. We sleep together every once in a while. We’re not a couple. We’re friends who kiss and touch each other.”

She points at me. “That’s weird, ya know.”

“It’s not weird.”

She rolls her eyes, then closes them, like she’s asking God for patience. I study her naked body for a moment. She’s not as lean as she was back at the Institute. But she’s still very beautiful. And her breasts just got better after breastfeeding.

She opens her eyes again. “Don’t you ever want more?”

I throw up my hands. “That’s why I’m here.”

“Not from me, Locke. From him.”

My automatic answer is no. She’s asked me this question many times, so I actually do have an automatic answer. I just say no. I’m satisfied. And mostly, I am.

But would I like Mercer to touch me the way I touch him?

Yes. And because doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results is said to be the definition of insanity, I decide to just admit it and see where that gets us.

“Fine. I would like more from him. Are you happy now?”

“At least you admitted it. So. Yes.”

I wait for her to say more, but she stays quiet. “That’s it? Nothing else to add?”

Her eyes go soft. Her face changes a little. She turns into… a mother. Someone careful. Someone who cares. “Ya know, if he treated you better, I might consider forgiving him. But he treats you like shit, Locke. Shit. And you just take it. You accept his meager… whatever he’s offering, and you take it. There is no way in hell I will be one-third of that.”

My mind spins a little. “This is your problem with him? Not what he did to you, but how he treats me?”

“Of course I hate what he did to me. This is why I can’t put up with him doing it to you.”

“You have to stop blaming him for that. You know the truth.”

“Oh, I’m fully aware of the part I played in everything. And I’m fully aware that you know what you’re doing as well. But why is Mercer untouchable? Why does he get to do these things? Why does he get to torture you? Why are there no consequences?”

“No consequences? Are you fucking serious? He lost everything, Nova.”

She guffaws so loud, it echoes off the bathroom ceiling. “He lost nothing, Locke. Nothing. He’s still working there. He’s still living there. You’re still with him.”

I walk over to her and place both my hands on her cheeks. She looks up at me, defiant. “He lost you, Nova. You don’t think that affects him?”

“He never loved me—”

“Don’t fucking start. You know he loved you. You’re the one—”

“It’s my fault? All this is my fault?”

“Not all of it, but we were all adults. We all made choices. Me, Mercer, Olsen, and you. So we are all responsible for how it ended.”

She pushes away from me and walks to the shower. “This is not going how I expected.”

“Maybe you should give up on those expectations.”

“Maybe you should leave.”

“Maybe I should,” I say. She looks over her shoulder at me. “Maybe I should go home, get Mercer, put him on a plane, and bring him here so we can get this all out in the open once and for all.”

She swallows hard. Her face changes again. Only now, she looks… sad.

We just stare at each other for several very long seconds.

Then she says, “He would never come.”

And this is when I realize she does still love him. She does still want him. She will take him back. If I can get him here and let them get it all out in the open.

“If he does, would you talk to him?”

She wants to say no. But it’s a lie. Maybe she’s thinking about us. Me, and her, and Mercer. Maybe she’s imagining some kind of arrangement. I’m not even sure what that arrangement might look like, but she might have an idea. She might’ve been dreaming about a full reconciliation these past several years.

Or maybe she’s thinking that this is something I need. That I need to see her and Mercer together again, see how bad it is, so I will get over it and try something new.

Either way, it doesn’t matter.

Either way, this ends with Mercer, me, and her all in the same room again.

Finally, Nova sighs. “Ya know what, Locke? If you get him here, I’ll talk to him. For you. Not for him, for you.”

“I’ll be back.”

I grab my stuff, throw it in my rental Jeep, and head for the airstrip where my private jet is waiting.

 

 

I arrive home in the middle of the night. I love this island. I love this house. I love the man who lives here. But when you’re in a hurry to get home and have to take a boat on that final leg of the journey—yeah. It sucks.

And I don’t even think he’s here because the entire house is dark.

I drop my shit in the foyer and flip on a light.

He’s not here. I can feel the emptiness. But I go upstairs to check anyway.

I take the steps three at a time, don’t bother being quiet on my way down the hallway that opens to the sunken living room, and just flip on the light in his bedroom.

There is half a flight of stairs that leads down to where the bed is. And it’s empty. “Fuck.”

Back out in the hallway, I go up another half-flight of stairs to my space. I flip on the light and then stop. “Mercer?”

He’s sitting in a chair facing the window, his back to me. “I didn’t expect you home for another week.”

“Yeah.” I run my fingers through my hair, a little bit unsettled to find him in here. Did he see me coming? Was he watching for me? Why is he in here?

“Didn’t go well this time?”

“What are you doing in here?”

“Or did it?”

I shrug, even though he’s not looking at me. “It went OK.”

He stands up and turns to me. “Then why are you home?”

I came up with a million ways to explain what’s happening to Mercer on the flight back but in this moment, under his penetrating gaze, I can’t remember a single lucid argument for why he should fly three thousand miles to have a conversation with someone he no longer cares about.

So I go for the truth. “Did you know that Olsen is living there?”

His eyebrows go up. Unless he’s acting, or lying, he didn’t know. Mercer isn’t a liar. People think he is because he’s very good at withholding information. But he’s really not a liar. So I don’t think he knew.

I almost wish he had, though. Because if he knew, then it would’ve meant he was keeping tabs on Nova. So he’s not. He really has moved on.

“He’s living with her?”

“Not quite, but he might as well be. I guess he has a place like two hours away. But he stays over enough. Enough that Veda—”

Mercer puts up a hand. “I don’t care, Locke.”

“Right.” I sigh. Then rub my hands down my face.

“So you came home? Because of Olsen?”

“No. Not exactly.”

“You came home…” He smiles. It’s a crooked smile, so it’s more of a dangerous smile than a flirty smile. “Because of me?”

“Well. Yes. Actually. I came home because of you.”

He lifts a single finger up in the air. “There’s a ‘but’ at the end of that sentence, isn’t there.”

“There is. But… whatever. It’s late.” And I’m a coward. Actually, that’s not true. I’m not a coward, I just know what he’s going to say and I don’t want that to be the answer. I want it to work out differently.

When Nova said she would talk to him, I got my hopes up. They’re still up. But the moment I approach him with this offer that hope dies and turns into reality. Maybe good, maybe not.

And maybe I’m just not ready for the end to happen so quickly.

Because this has to end. It has to. And I think we’re close.

“Wow,” Mercer says. “I wish I was privy to your thoughts right now. I bet there’s a hell of a battle going on up in that head of yours.” He walks towards me, eyes locked with mine. “So many conflicts inside you, Locke. I’ve always found your internal crusades intriguing.”

He’s right in front of me now. Smiling at me as he takes my hand and places it over his groin. He’s not hard, but he will be soon if I let him do this.

“Care to enlighten me? Hmm? Just this once?” He squeezes my hand, which in turn squeezes his dick.

I don’t stop him. Instead, I reach for him. I place one hand on his face the same way I do with Nova. It’s the same way that Mercer does with me. And then I lean in and kiss him.

He kisses me back for three seconds, then he pulls away, turns—breaking my contact with his quickly hardening cock—and walks over to the window again. This time, he doesn’t sit down. I watch his reflection in the huge pane of glass.

“Turn the lights off.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want you looking at me, Locke.”

I walk over and flip the lights off. Because at least he didn’t say, ‘Because I said so.’ Then I walk over to the window and stand next to him in the dark.

It’s a really nice view. The lake under the moonlight. A few tree branches to break it all up. Mercer and I have the same view, actually. He’s just half a story below me.

“So you’re leaving me?”

“What?” I scoff the word out.

“You’re leaving me.” It’s not a question this time. I can still see a little bit of his reflection in the glass and his face is hard now.

“What makes you think that?”

He turns his head so he can side-eye me. “Because you love her, Locke. You always have. And you never could accept what she and I did at the end.”

“Well.” I let out a long breath. “I do love her. But you’re wrong. I’m not leaving you. I’d never leave you.”

“What if I kicked you out? Would you go then?”

Immediately, I frown. “Maybe we should talk about all this stuff in the morning.”

“Maybe that would’ve worked if you hadn’t kissed me.”

I don’t know what to say to that. Actually, yes. I do. “We’re thirty-seven years old, Mercer. We’ve been together for thirty of those years. If I want to kiss you, I will. And if you don’t want me to kiss you, then you shouldn’t kiss me back when I do it.”

He’s still side-eyeing me. But now he turns his body and looks at me straight on. “It’s over.”

I shake my head. “It’s not.”

“You should go.”

“No. I’m not leaving.”

“Then I should go.” Then he turns away and walks towards the door. “I’ll be in Boston if you need anything.”

“You’re a fucking dick, you know that?”

He halts. “Excuse me?” Then turns.

“You heard me. You take, Mercer. You’re a taker. You want things your way and—”

“You’re damn fucking right I do!” He yells this. No. Roars this. “And you know how I am. Yet you stay.” I open my mouth to argue back, but he beats me to it. “Don’t. Don’t tell me you love me, Locke. You don’t love me. You’re addicted to me. There’s a huge difference. I’ve tried everything I can to make you go. To make you leave me. And you just. Keep. Coming. Back.”

“Fuck you.”

“Why don’t you just go to her? Just leave. I won’t miss you.”

I walk over to him and shove him so hard, his back crashes against the wall. He’s not a small man. Over six feet tall, just like me. But his muscles are lean. He wears his suits well. I have ten or twenty pounds of muscle on him, easy. I look much better in t-shirts. So my shove is serious.

He laughs at me. “Why do you refuse to accept the truth? Huh? You, of all people, Locke. You know what the truth is, and yet you stay in the lie. Why? Why do you do it?”

“It’s not a lie.”

“No?” He scoffs.

“It’s not a lie, and you know it. We’ve been together—”

“Who cares? When will you have had enough? What is your breaking point, Locke? Hmm? What do I have to do to get you there?”

There are two steps between us and I cross them in one. Then I take his face in both my hands and I kiss him again.

It’s not frantic. It’s not desperate, either.

It’s the same fucking kiss he gives me. I just give it back.

I don’t know what he’s gonna do. Pull away, kick me out, punch me out. But he doesn’t do any of those things.

He just… kisses me back.

Pushes my hands off his face and places his on mine.

He takes over.

He takes control back.

Because this is Mercer’s thing. He has to be in control. He’s the one who lives in a lie, not me. He’s the one who denies our love, not me.

See, this is where Nova got it wrong.

Mercer isn’t torturing me, he’s torturing himself.