Page 89 of Judge's Mercy

“I don’t want to leave the club,” I say, even though I don’t know if that’s true anymore.

“Let me finish so you can make an educated decision, and we won’t ask you for that decision today. We want you to sit with it for a while.”

“Okay.”

“I called Tripod last night and explained the situation. He’s all fucked up over it the same way I am. We can’t help but feel responsible since we’re the ones who put you in that position.”

“No one knew. I’m sure if you had, things would’ve been different,” I say.

“Damn straight they would be. That’s not what happened, though, so there’s no point in talkin’ about it. What we want you to think about is going nomad. That doesn’t mean you have to leave Reno or even your cabin. All it will do is allow you some freedom to figure out what you want. Of course, going nomad means you won’t be dealt a check each month, but we’re not going to make you pay rent or anything.”

I feel the eyes on me, waiting for me to say something, but I’m too shocked. Of all the things I thought he’d say, I never considered nomad. It might be good for me. When I was younger, I got special permission to take hiatuses so I could travel to other countries and study their religious and spiritual practices, but I haven’t done that in a long time. I enjoyed traveling and seeing the world. With the money I’ve saved over the years, I could do that again.

What about Myla, though? Would she want to come with me? If I asked her to leave for India tomorrow, would she forget about her stupid list? It’s unlikely, so could I leave knowing what she’s doing, that she’ll probably need help at some point? I don’t know.

“Judge?” Cy saying my name brings me out of my thoughts.

“Huh?”

“I asked if that’s something you might consider?”

“Yeah. I’d consider it.”

“Okay, then I think we’re done here.” He places his hands on the table and pushes to stand.

“Can I ask a question before we go?” With Cy’s nod, I continue. “Why have everyone here? Why didn’t you just ask me one-on-one?”

“Because we’re your brothers,” Rigger says, his finger jabbing through the air at each person in the room. “We didn’t want you to think that any one of us wants you to leave. We want you to be happy, and that’s it.”

I nod, feeling their support and nearly getting choked up.

“All right. Unless anyone has anything else to say?” Cy bangs the gavel. “Then get to it.”

Before I can walk out of the room with everyone else, Lucky slips into the seat to my right. The look he gives me says he wants to chat after everyone leaves.

“Does this new emo-Judge thing have anything to do with a certain twin?” he asks once the room is quiet.

“It has everything to do with her.” I trace invisible circles onto the copper tabletop.

“Do you want to know how she is? I’m not supposed to tell you anything because she’s hard-headed that way, but I can’t watch this whole depresso-espresso act anymore. You’re harshing my vibe.”

“I don’t know what any of that last part means, but to answer your question, yes, I want to know.” I’m hungry for any morsel of information he’ll give me. It’ll give me something new to think about, since I’ve exhausted every memory I have while we’ve been apart.

“She’s good. Almost healed up. Her arm’s been a little bitch, though.” He cringes. “Open wound care is fuckin’ disgusting. Every day she has to change the bandages, and fuck man, you should see the shit oozing out of that thing.”

“Focus,” I say.

“Right.” He runs a hand through his long hair, his mood turning serious. “She hasn’t left her apartment. She spends most of her days watching reality TV with Tigger. It’s pathetic. Tinleigh thinks she’s depressed, same as you, so we tried to suggest she reach out, but whatever you said must’ve really pissed her off.”

“I told her I didn’t want her to continue with her killing crusade, and that if she did, I didn’t know if I could stick around and be there for her.”

“Damn, no wonder.”

“I don’t think it’s unreasonable. She almost died, and there’s a good chance it’ll happen again.”

“I’m no expert because Tinleigh’s my first real girlfriend, and honestly, she’s a goddamn angel. I mean, sometimes I pick a fight with her, but you should see how cute she is when she’s all pissed. Then I’ll apologize, and the make-up sex is fah-reak-ay.” He sings the last word.

“Again, focus.” It’s times like this I wish the guy would medicate his ADHD.

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