Page 165 of Fearless

“What’re you talking about?” Mercy asked him.

“Dude, if I didn’t think I’d walk in on my sister naked, I’d come in there and kick your ass.”

Mercy lunged through the door and Ava heard Aidan’s boots retreating, going down the hall too fast to catch. When Mercy stepped back in, locking the door again, she shook her head. “That’d be my cue to leave.”

Mercy sighed. “Ava.”

She grabbed her bag off the desk. “I’m taking a shower.”

“Ava–”

“I’ll be fast.”

And she would be, because their moment, their night, was over, and reality had a bitter taste before sunrise.

She showered in record time, with Mercy’s harsh Irish Spring soap, too rushed to be amused by the fact that he had a bottle of women’s Herbal Essences on the shelf; she washed her hair with it, and kept hurrying.

The clothes she’d packed the night before were a long-sleeved black t-shirt, cutoffs, sweatshirt, and the knee-high boots from the night before. She dressed, brushed her teeth, tied her wet hair back in a knot, and managed to smear a layer of gloss across her lips.

Mercy was waiting, propped against the wall as she stepped out of the bathroom. His expression was unfathomable, determined, if she had to describe it, the eyes soft for her, the jaw set in a hard line. He’d pulled on a shirt and socks. “I’ll walk you out.”

She breathed a laugh as she walked around him to the desk, grabbed her jacket and stowed it in her bag. “Yeah. Right.”

“Can you even drive? You had too much to drink.”

She tossed him an accusatory look:that’s your fault. “I’m fine. I’ll stop for coffee.”

“Still walking you out.”

“Why? Why, when Dad’s on his way in, and the world’s on fire, would you insist on that now?”

“Because things are different now.”

“Really?” As the dark faded, her sanity returned, Scotch-soaked and painful. “How?”

“They just are.”

“And I’m the coerced, seduced child in this situation,” she muttered under her breath. “Sure.”

“What was that?”

“I said it’s your funeral.” She lifted her bag – and he took it away from her, slinging the strap over his own shoulder with a look that dared her to argue. “You want to carry my purse, too?”

He held out a hand for it and she rolled her eyes, pulling it up onto her arm.

“I thought this whole white knight bit worked for girls,” he said like he was fighting down a laugh.

“Too late; I’ve already seen your true colors.” She pulled her hood up and put her sunglasses on. “Can we at least go out the back door?”

“Whatever m’lady wants.”

She elbowed him in the stomach on her way past.

Thankfully, the hall was clear. Outside, the sky was barred with gold and salmon, faint indigo shards of night fracturing at the high center point. She could hear bike engines: the crisis was pulling everyone in early.

Ava zipped up her hoodie, put her head down, and made a beeline for her truck, hoping to escape notice completely. All the guys would find out she’d been there – Aidan never could keep a secret – but she didn’t want to be there when the discussion broke out.

Mercy’s light touch between her shoulder blades caught her attention; the way he cleared his throat told her something was wrong.

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