Page 21 of This is Why We Lied

Mercy took that as her cue to exit. They were embracing when she closed the door. She should’ve been impressed that they were twenty years older than her and still going at it, but she was envious. And also irritated. She’d heard their toilet running in the bathroom, which meant that Dave hadn’t bothered to fix it.

She made a note on her pad as she walked toward cottage five. Mercy could feel Papa’s disapproving gaze tracking her from the porch. Bitty was beside him knitting something no one would ever wear. The cats were laid out at her feet. Both her parents were acting like the family meeting had gone as usual. Still no sign of Delilah. Dave had disappeared. Fish had scampered off to the equipment shed. Of all of them, he was probably the only person actually doing what Mercy had told him to do. He was probably the most worried, too.

She should find her brother and apologize. She should tell him he was going to be okay. There had to be a way Mercy could convince Dave to vote against the sell. She would have to scrape up some money to bribe him. Dave would always take $100 today versus $500 in a week. Then he’d whine about the lost $400 for the rest of his damn life.

“Mercy Mac!” Chuck bellowed across the compound. He was carrying his usual gigantic water jug like he was some kind of elite athlete desperately in need of hydration. He walked like he was throwing one foot after the other, which was why Dave had started calling him Chuck—dude chucks his feet like he’s tossing sledgehammers. Mercy couldn’t even remember the man’s real name anymore. What she knew was that he had a giant crush on her, and that he had always made her skin crawl.

She lied, “Fish is waiting for you down at the equipment shed.”

“Oh.” He blinked behind his thick glasses. “Thanks. I was looking for you, though. Wanted to make sure you knew about my—”

“Peanut allergy,” Mercy finished. She had known about the allergy for seven years, but he always reminded her. “I told Bitty to let the kitchen know. You should check with her.”

“All right.” He glanced back at Bitty, but didn’t leave. “You need any help with anything? I’m stronger than I look.”

Mercy watched him flex a fat-wrapped muscle. She bit her lip so she didn’t tell him to please, for the love of God, fuck off. He was her brother’s best friend. His only friend, if she was being honest. The least she could do was tolerate the creepy fucker. “You’d better go talk to Bitty. It’d take at least an hour for an ambulance to get here. Don’t wanna lose you from peanut poisoning.”

She turned away so she didn’t have to see the disappointment register on his moon-pie face. Mercy’s entire life had been filled with Chucks. Well-meaning, goofy guys who had good jobs and practiced basic hygiene. Mercy had dated some of them. Met their mamas. Even went to their churches. And then she always found herself screwing it up by going back to Dave.

Maybe Papa wasn’t that far off when he said that Mercy’s biggest tragedy was that she was smart enough to know how stupid she was. There was nothing in her past that would indicate otherwise. The only good thing she’d ever done was get her son back. Most days, Jon would probably agree with her. She wondered how he would feel when he found out that Mercy was blocking the sale. She would have to jump off that bridge when she got to it.

Mercy walked up the stairs to cottage five. She knocked harder than she’d meant to.

“Yes?” The door was opened by Landry Peterson. They had met during the intake, but now he was only wearing a towel around his waist. He was a good-looking man. His right nipple was pierced. There was a tattoo over his heart, lots of colorful flowers and a butterfly surrounding a looping cursive that read Gabbie.

Mercy’s eyes started to burn as she focused on the name. She felt all of the spit leave her mouth. She forced her gaze away from the tattoo. Looked up at Landry.

His smile was pleasant enough. Then he said, “Quite a scar you’ve got there.”

“I—” Mercy’s hand went to the scar on her face, but there was no covering the entire thing.

“Sorry for prying, I was a maxillofacial surgeon in a former life.” Landry tilted his head, studying her like she was a specimen under glass. “They did a good job. Must’ve taken quite a few sutures. How long were you in the OR?”

Mercy finally managed to swallow. She flipped on that McAlpine switch in her head that let her pretend like everything was fine. “I’m not sure. It was a long time ago. Anyway, I wanted to check with you guys that everything’s okay. Do you need anything?”

“I think we’re fine for now.” He looked behind her, first left, then right. “Nice situation you’ve got here. Must bring in a pretty penny. Supports the whole family, right?”

Mercy was taken aback. She wondered if this man was somehow tied up with the investors. She tried to put the topic back on familiar ground. “You’ll see the schedule in your folder. Dinner is at—”

“Hon?” Gordon Wylie called from inside the cottage. Mercy recognized his rich baritone. “Are you coming?”

Mercy started to back away. “I hope you enjoy your stay.”

“Just a minute,” Landry told Mercy. “What were you saying about dinner?”

“Cocktails at six. Meal is served at six-thirty.”

Mercy took out her notepad and pretended to write as she walked down the stairs. She didn’t hear the door close. Landry was watching her, adding a second set of eyes to Papa’s white-hot glare of disapproval. She felt like her back was on fire as she headed toward the Loop.

Was Landry acting strange? Was Mercy making it strange? Gabbie could be anything. A song, a place, a woman. Lots of gay men experimented before they came out. Or maybe Landry was bi. Maybe he was flirting with Mercy. She’d had that happen before. Or she could be freaking out because seeing that damn tattoo had made her heart feel like it was about to slide down the mountain like an avalanche.

Gabbie.

Mercy touched her fingers to the scar on her face. There was never a better representation of before and after. Before, when Mercy had only been a disappointing fuck-up. After, when Mercy had destroyed the only good thing that had ever happened in her life. Not just the good thing, but her chance at happiness. At peace. At a future that didn’t leave her desperate to go back and change the past.

She willed the McAlpine switch to flip back on and take her to everything-is-fine land. Mercy had enough stress without looking for more things to stress about. She looked down at her to-do list. She needed to check on the honeymooners. She should go by the kitchen because there was no way Bitty had told them about Chuck’s allergy. She should find Fish and make things right. She should fix the broken toilet herself. The investors would show up at some point. Apparently, they were too good for the hike and would drive in on the access road. Mercy hadn’t spent much time considering how she would act around them. She was torn between being coldly polite and scratching their eyes out.

Gabbie.

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