Page 11 of Mercenary

“Leaving Mexico to live with my aunt in Copenhagen wasn’t by choice. That I transferred to San Diego State, or even being back in Mexico right now, is a miracle,” she continues, unaware of the sucker punch she’s landed to my gut. Because her story is my story with one twist—I had no choicebutto leave Shelby.

“I would have done anything to return home to . . .” She stares off into the darkness, and I finish her sentence in my head.

Tohim.

“He really did a number on you.”

“That’s a massive understatement.”

“Well, I’m not going to tell you that time heals everything.” How would I know, the way everything has been upended? “Life’s full of riptides,” I softly say. “They spin you around, drag you down, and wear you out. Fight them, and you go under. Bide your time and remain patient, and you’ll eventually break free.” I pause a moment to give my words a chance to settle in. “That’s where I am right now. I’m swimming sideways until I can make my way back to the shoreline.”

Reuniting with the person who grounds me the most—Kylie.

“You’re always so optimistic. It’s what I love about you most.”

“I’ve gotta be.” Because the thought of never seeing Kylie again . . .

“What if the pull is too strong to resist? What if you’re reckless and thrive on the challenge it presents? What if the dark weight of it becomes so familiar, you barely catch your breath before you want it to drag you under again?” She searches the dark waters, looking sad, looking lost, as she often does.

I stare at her, horrified.

“You’re right,” she says after a spell. “It’s time to stop fighting. Time to swim sideways. In fresh waters, too. What do you say, Katie Ledecky?”

“I say we’re drowning in this riptide analogy.”

Her laughter is brief but I grab hold of it with both hands, troubles be gone. “What’s the fastest way to determine the sex of a chromosome?”

Luciana’s eyes light up. Nothing like science and sex to cheer a friend up.

“Pull down its genes.”

She claps her hands together, grinning madly.

“Why are men sexier than women?”

She shakes her head. “That’s not normally true . . . but let me have it, anyway.”

“You can’t spell sexy without xy.”

We both break into laughter, and everything suddenly seems right again.

“Now I know what you’ve been up to all those hours you spend in the lab at school.”

The music has stopped and the murmurs of conversations roll across the beach like a soft wave.

“Ever wonder why I approached you to be my roommate?”

I sit up straighter, surprised. “That’s not how I remember it. We bumped into each other in coffee shop off campus. We talked coffee and music and upcoming schedules. I mentioned I was looking for a roommate.” She was looking for someone to move into her off-campus apartment. The perfect coincidence . . . “What are you saying?”

The music comes back on. A popular new dance song about living in the moment. Luciana jumps to her feet, abandoning our odd conversation. I shake off the feeling that the rug was about to be pulled out from beneath my feetagain. I sigh. We came to Cabo to have fun and to start the New Year off right. I’ve got to trust that things always have a way of working themselves out, no matter the problem.

She offers a hand up, her messy dark-haired ponytail bobbing in unison with my own blond one.

“That looks so much better on you than me.”

I glance down.

We’ve swapped clothing—being of a similar height and weight has its benefits. We’re both wearing floral-patterned bikini tops and the shortest of short-shorts. My pants tend to draw tight across her backside and her tops cling to my full breasts a tad too snugly. Yet who can refuse the temptation of a more extensive wardrobe?