Page 7 of Mercy

Her eyes lock with mine, and for a moment, I'm lost in their depths.

I remember all those nights in the hospital, when those same eyes were my anchor in a sea of pain and uncertainty.

Now, seeing them filled with tears of joy instead of fear or worry, makes my chest tighten with emotion.

"I hear you," she whispers, her hands coming up to rest on my forearms. "Thank you, Tor. For everything."

I want to tell her that she doesn't need to thank me, that I'd do anything for her.

But the words get stuck in my throat.

Instead, I pull her into a tight hug, feeling her body mold against mine perfectly.

As I hold her, I can't help but think about how close we came to losing her.

The image of Meghan lying unconscious in that hospital bed, her head bandaged and her skin pale, still haunts my dreams.

But now she's here, warm and alive in my arms, and I silently vow to never let anything hurt her again.

"All right, all right," I say, reluctantly pulling away from the embrace. "Enough of this sappy shit. Let's get you a drink, yeah?"

Meghan laughs again, the sound music to my ears. "God, yes. I've been dreaming about a cold beer for weeks."

I guide her toward the bar, my hand resting on the small of her back.

The guys part like the Red Sea, all of them eager to greet Meghan but respectful enough to give her some space.

I can feel their eyes on us, and I know they're picking up on the change in our dynamic.

Hell, I'm still trying to figure it out myself.

As we reach the bar, I catch sight of our reflection in the mirror behind the bottles.

Meghan's leaning into me slightly, her body angled toward mine even as she talks to Ivar, who's already pulling her a draft.

I look... different. Softer, somehow. The ever-present crease between my brows is smoothed out, and there's a light in my eyes that I haven't seen in years.

"Here you go, darlin'," Ivar says, sliding a frosty mug across the bar to Meghan. "Welcome back."

Meghan's face lights up as she takes the beer. "Thanks, Ivar. God, I've missed this place."

I watch as she takes her first sip, her eyes closing in bliss.

A drop of condensation rolls down the side of the glass, over her fingers, and I have to clench my fist to keep from reaching out and wiping it away.

"So," I say, leaning against the bar and angling my body toward her. "How does it feel to be back in the land of the living?"

Meghan sets her beer down and turns to face me fully. "Honestly? It's surreal. Part of me still feels like I'm going to wake up in that hospital bed at any moment."

I reach out and squeeze her arm gently. "Trust me, you're not dreaming. This is real, Meg. You're really here."

She looks up at me, her eyes searching mine. "I know. And I'm glad. I just... I guess I'm still trying to process everything, you know?"

I nod, understanding all too well. "Yeah, I get it. It's a lot to take in. But hey, you've got time. No one's expecting you to jump right back into everything."

Meghan bites her lower lip, a gesture I've come to recognize as a sign of her nervousness. "What if... what if I can't do it, Tor? What if I can't handle being back here?"

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut.

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