Thankfully I’m not caught up by any of my teammates on my way over to save Mercer. He locks eyes with me as I weave across the restaurant, and I don’t miss the silent plea letting me know I made the right choice.
When I get to the bar, I slide my arm over his shoulder. “Sorry, fellas, I need to steal my friend here.”
“But he’s going to sing?—”
“I hate to break it to you, Carson, he’s not.” I point a finger to the flat line stretched across Mercer’s lips. “Does this look like a man who has any interest in singing Donna Summer with you?”
“But—”
“Why don’t you go get Bishop? You know you can always talk him into it with that sweet,I’m your co-captain smile.”
Carson chuckles. “Alas, mybromigoleft early to go help get Jackson settled into his new apartment before we leave tomorrow.”
“Plus,” Espinoza adds, “Mercer needs to be initiated into the ranks of karaoke legends.”
“Next time, boys,” Mercer huffs, but I think we all know that’s never going to happen.
Then again, Carson has a way of convincing you to do things you wouldn’t consider. So, maybe it’s in the realm of possibility.
Our co-captain lifts his finger and points it at Mercer’s chest. “I’m going to hold you to that.”
“He really will,” I say as Carson and Espinoza saunter off to find a willing voice to complete their trio.
“This is…” Mercer scans the room before ultimately turning back toward the bar and picks up his beer.
“Overwhelming? A lot? Claustrophobic?”
He takes a long pull and sighs. “Did I make the right choice coming back?”
I hesitate, searching his creased brow,unsure if he really wants my advice. Ultimately, I decide I don’t care and give it anyway. “I’m sure it’s a lot right now. And this team is definitely—” I pause and look around at the team that has stood by my side every day for the last few months. “They’re too much in the best possible way.”
“I’m afraid I’ll let them down,” Mercer whispers.
“Nah. They won’t let you.” Confidence drips from every word. “They’ll pick you up and fill in the gaps where you can’t.”
He huffs a laugh and sneers. “And you eat that shit up, don’t you?”
“Mercer, I?—”
“Don’t.” He holds up his hand and shakes his head. “We’re good, Ford. I was a little harsh on you.”
“And I was a little overbearing.”
He cocks a brow and levels me with an are-you-fucking-kidding-me stare.
“Okay, I was a lot overbearing.” And even though I feel it was justified, an easy laugh bubbles from my throat, and I let the feeling slip away.
Our friendship is way more important than being right.
Mercer takes another sip of his beer, then swirls the bottom. It’s only then I realize it’s empty and likely has been for some time.
He lets loose a breath and looks down at the bottle. “I could have reached out. I just—it’s been a lot. Between court and the hearing and my family and?—”
His voice trails off and his lip trembles. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mercer this shaken. Even in the midst of being accused as a rapist, he stood with his chin high and never lost sight of the truth. Everything in me wants to push my friend to tell me what the hell is going on, but Sophie’s words ring true: Think about it, and then maybe don’t.
Right now isn’t the time or place.
So, instead, I arch a brow and aim for safer waters. “And getting tattoos?”