Page 92 of Built for Mercy
Callie’s laughter was light, musical even, as she set down her half-finished glass with a hand that hesitated just a fraction too long. “Two’s my limit these days,” she said, her voice threaded with a quiet strength. “The balance between celebration and… well, you know.”
“Smart,” I admitted, though my own glass was quickly emptied and replaced. I caught the shadow that passed over Liam’s face—a mixture of pride and concern, the weight of love and growth all rolled into one.
“Let’s toast,” Callie suggested, raising her glass. “To new beginnings, to love, and to always having each other’s backs.”
“To Callie and Liam,” I added, hoisting my drink. The words felt heavy on my tongue, like a promise, or perhaps a plea to whatever gods watched over wayward hearts like mine.
We drank, the clink of our glasses a punctuation mark in the narrative of our lives. Something so familiar and yet so foreign now that we didn’t live in the same city. One river separated us, but it felt like a chasm.
As the night continued and the bar’s atmosphere thickened with the rise of obnoxious voices and boisterous laughter, I watched Callie and Liam, their heads bent close as they whispered together. My heart squeezed, an ache for only one thing.
A blue-eyed antihero by the name of Maverick Mercer.
“Go,” Callie mouthed when she caught my eye, a soft smile on her lips. “We’re okay.” I gave her a confused look, wondering if maybe she thought I would be running back to Maverick, but I didn’t want to dampen the mood.
So instead I nodded, slipping from the bar stool, the high of the vodka dulling the edges of my loneliness. I left them there, cocooned in the bliss of their love.
The streets were slick with the residue of rain that had come and gone, leaving behind the fresh smell of wet concrete. I walked alone, my heels clicking rhythmically against the pavement like a heartbeat, the chill of the night seeping through my clothes. Callie and I had once had a mutual dislike for this city, but now she had a life here. A new job. A husband. She’d turned over a new leaf, and I was still stuck in the past. I still hated this city for what it had done to my family.
My father: dead. My sisters and I: practically estranged. My mother: broken. Me:corrupted.
Back at the hotel, the room greeted me with silence once again. I climbed into the bed, letting my own presence comfort me. The Maverick-sized absence gnawed at me, a hunger that no amount of alcohol could satiate.
My vision clouded with tears that I refused to shed. Instead, I let sleep claim me, my last conscious thought a whispered confession to the darkness: “I’m sorry. I’ll be better.”
***
Consciousness crept in slowly, like the first light of dawn on a new day. My head pounded—a relentless thumping keeping time with my racing heart—as I fumbled for my phone. The screen’s glare was an assault on my bleary eyes, but there it was, a single text from Mav lighting up the display. Finally.
Maverick 6:17 AM
Guess hide and seek was always your game, Detective. But just so you know, I’m good at finding things that don’t want to be found. I love you. XO
The words, short and teasing, carried his signature cockiness. It should’ve irritated me, sparked that fiery retort he often drew out of me, but instead, the text wrapped around me in an oddly comforting way.
I tossed the phone aside, not ready to unravel the knot his words had tied inside me. Not yet. I rubbed at my temples, trying to massage away the hangover that seemed to worsen by the minute.
“Dios mio,” I muttered into my pillow.
I dragged myself toward the bathroom, and my reflection in the mirror was a harsh reminder of my fall from grace. Dark circles haunted my eyes, and my hair was a wild tangle of waves. I splashed cold water on my face, watching the makeup-tinted droplets race down the sink.
“Fucking get it together, Sophie,” I scolded the woman staring back at me, a direct contradiction to the hardened detective I knew myself to be. What was it about this man that disarmed me, stripped away my defenses until I was left bare and aching? I’d once told Callie that love didn’t have to be chaos, but now I felt like the biggest fucking hypocrite. I slapped the mirror in frustration, in anger, in hurt, a strangled scream tearing from my throat. Like that could take back all of my rash decisions.
His text echoed in my mind—a challenge, a promise, or maybe both. I could run now, but Maverick… he would always find me. And I wanted to be found.
I didn’t respond. Instead, I reached for the sleek handle of the mini bar tucked in the corner of the hotel room. The cool metallic click sounded through the silence like a gunshot. Nothing like a little hair of the dog to cure a hangover.
Rows of tiny bottles glistened under the dim overhead light—liquid forgetfulness in glass containers. I’d put a dent in the stock already. I sighed as I snatched a miniature vodka. The cap twisted off with a satisfying crack. I threw back the drink in oneburning swallow, wincing as the liquid seared a path down my throat. Warmth spread through my chest, a temporary balm to the ache that had taken up residence there.
Another bottle fell victim to my self-imposed anesthesia. Then another. With each gulp, reality quieted, Maverick’s text fading into the background, his words losing their gravity. My job no longer mattered, and neither did the other messages on my phone.
“Chase me now, Mav,” I slurred to the empty room. My laughter was a sharp, bitter sound that bounced off the walls and came back to mock me. “I’m sure I’m everything you could ever want.”
The world spun slightly as I sank onto the bed, my newest BFF. I closed my eyes, willing myself to sink into oblivion.
***
The morning light was a cruel reminder of how much time I’d let pass. I sat up, groggy from sleep and the remnants of yesterday’s liquor consumption, still in my jumpsuit from the wedding. I was a rumpled mess and felt like absolute shit.