Page 90 of Built for Mercy

The suite door swung open and I stepped inside, the plush carpet swallowing the sound of my footsteps. I tossed my bag onto the king-sized bed, the crisp white duvet bouncing with the weight.

“Make yourself at home, Soph,” I muttered to my reflection in the tall, arched windows. Outside, the city thrummed with life, indifferent to what was happening to me internally. The world does keep spinning, after all.

He’d find me. Maverick always did. It was part of our twisted dance that always left me craving more. This time, though, I didn’t run to end things. I left to clear my head, to take care of myself without burdening anyone else. The sharp edge of his words about my eating disorder had cut too close.

But that was Maverick—raw, unfiltered, and painfully aware of my demons. He never shied away from calling me out, even when it made me want to shred him to pieces with my bare hands. Love, if you could call the firestorm between us love, was never meant to be gentle. And ours was certainly not gentle. I regretted not returning those three little words.

Cope, Sophie,I thought, trying to drown out the noise in my head with the clink of ice as I poured myself a drink from the mini bar.Just numb it out.

I sank onto the bed, the alcohol offering a temporary veil of indifference. Maverick would come. That was a given. And when he did, we’d crash into each other with the same destructive force as always. And maybe then I’d find the answers I wasn’t brave enough to face sober.

“Let him come,” I said to the empty room, the city’s pulse echoing in my veins. My voice felt like company that wasn’t here, and I found comfort in that. “I’m ready for you, Mav. And I love you, too.”

The buzz of my phone shattered the silence. The screen glowed with Callie’s name, and I swiped to answer the message. My heart flipped at the sight of her words.

Callie 7:23 PM

EEEEK. Eloping tomorrow. Liam and I couldn’t wait any longer. Tell me you’re home and can come!

A rush of elation surged through me, quickly followed by a twist of jealousy so sharp it felt like a slap to the face. My own love life was a shitstorm, and here was Callie, finding her safe harbor after dealing with her own dark shit. My fingers were clumsy as they danced across the screen.

Sophie 7:24 PM

Of course, wouldn’t miss it. No one deserves a happily ever after like you two. :)

The idea of love so certain it couldn’t be stalled, wouldn’t be delayed, stung like a million bees. For me, it was a balancing act on the razor’s edge of passion and destruction. I’d once thought that jumping headfirst into this relationship with Maverick was the way to go, after Callie and Liam’s disastrous roller-coasterof a relationship in the beginning. Yet here I was, doing the opposite.

I tossed the phone aside, its weight too heavy with implications of what tomorrow would bring—a celebration for someone else’s forever when mine hung in limbo. The room’s luxury, bought on Maverick’s dime, felt mocking now. It was just a golden cage I’d locked myself in while trying to escape my reality.

I let myself fall back onto the plush bed, the crisp sheets cool against the heat radiating from my skin. Silence surrounded me, a void that pressed down with the weight of everything unspoken between Maverick and me. Shadows stretched into the room, fingers of darkness that felt as if they were going to choke the life out of me.

I curled into myself, seeking solace under the blankets. The fight with Maverick played on loop behind my closed eyelids, his accusations about my eating disorder, my retaliations—our love language twisted and barbed.

“Tomorrow,” I whispered into the nothingness, a promise to face the joy of Callie’s day without letting my own demons take center stage. But tonight? Tonight, I would surrender to exhaustion, to weakness, to the numbness I needed. A deep breath filled my lungs with the sterile scent of luxury and loneliness.

“Sleep,” I murmured, a prayer to the night to keep myself company. “Just sleep, Sophie.”

42

Sophie

The marble floors of city hall echoed with the sound of our heels clicking in unison, the soundtrack to a new beginning. Despite the stately columns and soaring arches, there was an intimacy to the space that seemed to wrap around us.

“Can you believe it?” Callie’s voice shimmered with excitement, her blue eyes bright as she glanced back at me over her shoulder. “I’m getting married!” She looked radiant in her white pantsuit—such a Callie thing to wear on her wedding day. Her hair was curled, her makeup simple but with red lipstick that popped against the rest of her crisp appearance. In other words, she was Liam’s wet dream.

“Today’s your day,” I managed, my smile feeling as stretched and fragile as my composure.

Liam stood beside her, his hand finding its home at the small of her back. They beamed at each other—so different than the shadows that clung to me like a second skin.

I’d spent years—a decade—shoving those shadows into the recesses of my mind, but now they were barely staying below the surface. I was on the precipice of letting all of my trauma and issues bubble out until I had a psychotic break.

Or maybe it was already happening.

The edges of the room darkened, the fluorescent lighting buzzing too loud, too sharp, needling under my skin. My fingers clenched around my bouquet, but the stems felt wrong in my grip—like they weren’t real, like I wasn’t real. My pulse was erratic, my skin cold and damp, my breathwrong.

I needed to breathe. I needed to stop fucking breathing so fast.

Callie laughed, the sound bright and full, but it echoed inside my skull like it didn’t belong to her. Like none of this was real.