Page 6 of Going Down Smooth: Part Two

“Nate, what is it?” Trey asks in alarm.

Nate stands and walks towards us as he speaks. “Have you all forgotten that we were supposed to mate Merce. Claim her in three days. If she is here in this hospital, unmated, Christopher will find a way to make that work in his favor. I don’t doubt for a second that he will have the lawyers in this room checking for mate marks, just to get what he wants.” He shakes his head and sneers. “We can’t let that happen. She will be devastated.”

Fuck. I didn’t forget, but I did. With all the new complications in front of me, I forgot the most important thing of all. Making her mine, ours, officially. The one stipulation that can end it all, right here, right now.

“We won’t let him in here,” Lox replies. “He won’t get near her. I won’t let him.”

“What if we have no choice? The lawyers in control of Benjamin’s will, I’m sure, will be sympathetic to Mercy’s situation but Christopher won’t see it that way. He will demand it,” Trey says matter-of-factly. “If he has gone this far.” He points to Mercy. “There will be no stopping him.”

Lox growls in frustration and looks at me. I know what he’s thinking, I’m thinking it too, but fuck, I don’t want to do it this way. Nate looks at us both as if reading our minds and turns away with his hands on his hips.

“She has to consent. She must. I can’t bite her without it,” Nate says quietly, almost pained.

“It’s either that or she loses everything. . .we might losehertoo,” I say as my doubts creep over me once more. I believe that the requirements of Benjamin’s will are not the only reason Mercy wants to be with us. I know that, but if she doesn’t have her father’s company, will we be enough to keep her here?

“So, just to be clear. You’re all thinking we should bite her? Mark her now, outside of the traditional way? So when Christopher arrives in three days’ time and demands to know if she mated—”

“He will get one big ass shocker.” I smile at the thought of seeing his face as he loses yet again.

“I’m with Nate though, not without her consent. Even if she has to point to a written yes or no, I can’t do it otherwise. I couldn’t bear to look at myself in the mirror if we claimed her without her consent, regardless of the why,” Trey argues.

I think all of us can agree on that. Mercy fought hard for her independence, and I won’t take that decision from her.

“Lox, you need to tell Heath that Mercy can have no visitors for at least the next two days while she recovers. That should buy us some time,” I reply, hoping and sending a prayer up above that we can pull this off.

Lox nods in agreement. “If it was up to me, no one would see her at all. Heath promised to have security manning the floor, but I think I will get Dane and some of our guys down here as well. I want people here we all can trust.” He stands to leave, pulling his phone out, when Nate speaks.

“Time for what?” Nate asks.

“Time for Mercy to wake up,” I reply, feeling uncertain. All I can do is hope she comes to sooner, rather than later.

I look over at Mercy’s unconscious form and silently plead with her, please baby, please wake up.

FOUR

MERCY

Music wraps around my consciousness. The familiar warmth of a deep melodic hum that brings tears to my eyes. Trey. Even in my unconscious state, despite the music he’s playing, I know the sound of his voice as if it was my own. I try to open my eyes, but my lids feel like they have been caked in cement and glued shut. My mind boots slowly, like a computer in need of an update as reality kicks in.

Then it all hits me. My last memories flash before me in a horrific display. The sound of my sister’s pain-filled cries, Derrick and Chasson, the fire, and the acrid stench of smoke. Faith. Smooth Bourbon.

Is it all gone? All the thoughts threaten to send me spiraling, my anxiety spikes, making me want to run and hide, but there is nothing I can do but lay here. I feel like I’ve been put through a meat grinder, my body hurts in places I didn’t know it could hurt. The feeling of being trapped only enhances my emotions as I lay here broken. Breathe. At least I can breathe.

Trey’s humming continues from somewhere beside me, his voice undulates without words, calm and serene against the beep beep beeping of machines. My heartbeat speeds up rapidly as the memory of the events that brought me here come crashing down on me.

Breathe.

For a moment, in order to stave off my growing panic, I allow myself to listen to the movement around me. The quiet shuffle of feet, the flipping of paper, and the beeping that slowly begins to ground me.

I’m alive.

I hold on to that realization as I try to force my eyes open once more. I crack one eye open for a fraction of a second, just enough for bright fluorescent light to blind me. My eye closes like a shutter slammed shut, and if I could move, my legs would be kicking in a toddler style tantrum. I just want to see.

Breathe, Mercy.

I lay there and breathe. At least I can breathe.I repeat it like a mantra as I try to forget how I struggled for every breath amongst the billowing smoke from the fire. My lungs still ache with every breath I take, along with a sharp pain in my ribs, but my mind circles back to the fact that I am alive.

So, I listen. Mostly I listen to him. Trey hums along to “For All We Know”by Donny Hathaway, Robert Flake on the piano of course. Another one of our favorites we would sing and play together when we were teenagers. My mother was in love with Donny Hathaway and made sure I learned to appreciate and love him too. I swear, she would have probably left all three of my dads for a chance to be with him if the opportunity had ever presented itself. Trey had no choice but to fall in love with him too. The moment he heard “A Song For You”,he was a goner. Did he play this for me I wonder? Something my brain can latch onto in order to bring me out of my. . . Was I in a coma? I read once that music can affect the brain in the most unpredictable and profound way. I count myself blessed that he knew to reach me through one of the things I loved most.

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