Page 42 of Almost Had You

One of the girls on the futon pipes up. “Rexy, my dear brother is down on manners. I’m Luella,” she says while standing. “And this is Sierra. Sierra is with Grange over there. The one with the naked lady on the back of his shirt,” she adds, nodding in the direction of the guy, “And I’m a free agent,” Luella finishes, smiling widely, eyes flicking to Mercer.

My stomach flips as I try to find the confidence that usually comes to me so easily. “I’m Clover Wellsley, and I’ve known Mercer…all of our lives.” We shake hands and her grip is weak. I don’t miss it as she casts a calculated glare in Rexy’s direction, and then nods pleasantly at me.

“Clover is my girlfriend,” Mercer announces and I’m not sure he’s done me any favors. “She’s moved here from Alabama. Maybe you girls can help her out while I’m gone. Give her the lay of the land. Entertain her like good hosts?”

I’d like to shake Mercer silly, because he’s saying things that would be passable in Greenton, but they won’t fly here, and he should know it. The women are looking at me like I’m an invader of the worst kind, and honestly, I can’t blame them.

“Yeah, I will,” Sierra says, and I don’t detect any hostility in her tone.

Luella snaps her gaze to her friend. “Sure, we will, Mercer. Anything you’d like. Where are you living, Clover?” Everyone’s eyes are on me. Not with the awestruck likes of jealousy, more like I’m a caged animal in the zoo they’re trying to categorize into species and genus.

“My place is just across the street. My cousin Goldie owns it and a salon. Maybe you’ve heard of Blunt? I’ll be doing hair there, too.” When the women react positively to the name of the salon, I talk about that more, distancing myself from the awkward stares and honing in on my cousin and everything hair related.

“You’ll have to come see me,” I offer when I feel confidence return, letting my eyes appraise their hair for the first time.

Grange walks over and hangs a heavy arm over Sierra’s shoulder. He introduces himself and his mild-mannered attitude immediately draws me to him. We talk a bit more about my move and Alabama and Sierra asks a few questions about my life before this, and what Mercer was like as a teenager. I don’t give anything away I don’t think he’d want me to. Luella’s voice cuts through the air, “Let’s take a selfie,” she coos, butting into my conversation and edging Grange out of the way. She pulls us together, holds out her hand, we smile, and she snaps several photos. After she’s satisfied with an image she proclaims, “Don’t worry, Clover, I’ll filter it up and make you look perfect.” I grit my teeth and keep my comments to myself. “What’s your Instagram handle? I’ll tag you.”

“I’m private,” I say. I locked down all of my social media accounts a while ago. Between the women’s shelter and my dad’s career, I never wanted anyone drawing conclusions about who I am and what that means about my family. There isn’t anything scandalous, by any means, and I am starting a new life, so I make a rash decision. “But it’s @misscloverw. I’ll add you when I see your request.” I need to be friends with these people. I need friends in general. This is what friends do. New life, I remind myself again. Sierra and Luella are filtering and posting on their phones, so I pull mine out of my tote, side-eyeing Mercer as I do. He smiles on, like he’s happy I’m not tearing them to shreds with a verbal, Southern assault.

Mercer hands me a full shot glass. “There aren’t any letters missing on this one, but I think you’ll appreciate what’s inside.”

I look at the shot glass with narrowed eyes. I whisper under my breath. “So, about tonight. Or what was supposed to happen tonight. You’ve been drinking a bit?” I lean away from him to watch his face. It answers the question for me. “Mercer,” I whine. “We had big plans.”

He clears his throat, and excuses us into the hallway, and then into his bedroom a few steps away. When we’re stowed away from everyone else, he closes the door and spins to face me. “I’m sorry. I really am. You have to know I’d rather it be just you and me and this bed for a full twenty-four hours, but,” he says, sentence cutting off completely. “I love you, Clover.”

“This is the part where you saybutone more time. Except I end up spittin’ mad this go, isn’t it?” Taking in a breath, I shudder. “Or cry. Or call Tannie and tell her she was right? Tell my parents they were right. Tell the whole world they saw what I couldn’t.”

Mercer bites his bottom lip. “I’m redeploying tomorrow, darlin’.”

My stomach drops to the floor and I honest to God feel light-headed. I rush out, “All the more reason to clear this dadgum house of all these people and get this started, Mercer. Oh, my God. Just like that? That’s how it works?” I fan my face with my hands where I’ve broken out in a sheen of sweat. “I can’t believe this. We just got here; we have like a week left. We have plans. So many plans. You were going to take my virginity, patch a hole in my wall, give me the grand tour of Cape Cod and the Harbour Point Base.” Closing my eyes, I pinch the bridge of my nose. I knew this would happen. I didn’t anticipate my reaction to it. “I’m sorry.” When I open my eyes, Mercer is standing in front of me, arms folded across his chest, a sly smile playing on his lips. The moment takes on an ethereal quality. He’s going to leave, and I’ll be left here wondering what was real.

“The sooner I get back at it, the sooner I come home to you.” He tips my chin up so our gazes lock. “And mercy me, there’s nothing I look forward to more.” Mercer swallows hard. “I’ve never had someone to come home to. Never had a woman who made leaving harder than going. This,” he says, motioning between our bodies, “is real. It’s going to stay real while I’m gone and for the rest of time. You have to hang on.”He leans his forehead down to meet mine.

“Hang on to what, Mercer? This is the time to be specific. It all feels like a rush. I fell in love with you in a rush. Made important decisions in a rush. You’re leaving in a rush. You get why this doesn’t seem real, right?”

“Hang on to what you’re feeling right now.”

“Terror?” I nearly shriek. “Or panic, self-loathing, trepidation, confusion? Any of those sound like things I should hang on to? I’m feeling all of them.” My pulse is still ricocheting in my ears. I repeat my death sentence. “Tomorrow?”

Mercer pulls away and puts his lips against mine. I melt into his arms and the kiss, captured by the intense passion he gives and the control I relinquish immediately.

Someone raps a fist against the bedroom door. “Tomorrow,” Mercer repeats.

“And tonight, we have to go back out there and make nice with everyone,” I deadpan.

He nods. “Unfortunately.” He tucks my hair behind my ears and rests his hands on the sides of my face. “We’re done rushing things for now anyway.”

I sigh. “Fine.”

“Tomorrow morning. I want to take you somewhere. Morning is mine?” He releases my face and takes a step backward.

“Of course, Mercer Ballentine.” More than tomorrow morning, though. The man has me hook, line, and sinker for the rest of time.

Chapter Fourteen

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Clover

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