Page 54 of Mercy

The answer, of course, is that I can't.

I won't.

I've never backed down from a fight in my life, and I'm not about to start now.

Especially not when it comes to the woman I love.

Love.

The word still feels foreign on my tongue, but there's no denying it anymore.

Somewhere between the late-night conversations and stolen kisses in her hospital room, I fell hard for Meghan Whittaker.

And I'll be damned if I let her slip away without a fight.

Fuck this.

I start the engine and peel out of the parking lot.

Meghan doesn’t want me here, and if I’m not here for love, then I need to get my ass back home.

My stomach churns as I step into the warm glow of the clubhouse.

The weight of everything that's happened crashes down on me all at once, and I can't hold it in any longer.

The club is being as rambunctious as usual and I head toward the bar.

I need it horribly.

I get behind the bar and grab a drink, then walk around and take a seat.

Fern comes up to me, placing a hand on my back. “Tor, you okay? You didn’t say a word when you came in…”

"Fern," I choke out, my voice cracking. "It's over. Meg and I... we broke up."

Fern's eyes widen, and before I can say anything else, she's pulling me into a tight embrace.

Her arms wrap around me, and I sink into her comforting warmth, feeling like a lost kid rather than a grown man.

"Oh, baby," she murmurs, her voice thick with concern. "I'm so sorry."

I try to speak, to explain, but the words get stuck in my throat.

All I can manage is a strangled sound that's somewhere between a groan and a sob.

Fern's hand moves to the back of my head, her fingers gently carding through my hair. "Shh, it's okay," she soothes. "I'm so, so sorry, Tor."

I stand there, letting her hold me, feeling both comforted and ashamed.

Part of me wants to push her away, to maintain the tough exterior of the man my father raised me to be.

But a bigger part of me needs this—needs to be held by the closest thing to a mother that I have, to be comforted, to let someone else be strong for a moment.

"I thought..." I start, my voice muffled against Fern's shoulder. "I thought we had something real. Something that could last."

Fern's grip tightens. "I know, baby. I know."

I take a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent of leather and vanilla that always clings to Fern.

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