I toy with the idea of a phone call. What would that be like? Maybe we’re different people? Maybe things have changed?
The door swings open and Dash barges in. He showered before me and then ran down to the corner store to buy contraband otherwise known as potato chips, Cheezies, Nibs, ice cream, and a bunch of other stuff we’re definitely not allowed under what we call the Rule of Mercy.
I guess I should be grateful the owners of the team are budgeting for the expensive food we have to consume according to our team sports nutritionist—those Juice Truck juices are ten bucks a piece—but dammit, we want greasy potato chips now and then.
“Did anyone see you?” I whisper as if Coach could be behind any corner and jump out with his evil dictator badge and sentence us to bench time.
“Don’t think so—well except Oz who was doing the same.”
“You sure he’s not a spy?”
“Nah. Not Oz. He almost spat out the beer he was chugging when he saw me.”
Beer? Yeah, I’m not willing to go that far. “Shut the door behind you, eh? Rumor has it Elias is going around like a jail warden at night and checking in on open doors.”
We’ve had an open-door policy around here for a long time. It used to be party central, day and night. That’s changed too. It’s quiet as a damn library while we sneak around hiding black-market licorice.
Maybe I should sleep with Mercy again. Not because I want to. For the team.
Totally just for the team.
I grab a hat from the hook—not sure if it’s mine or someone else’s, but pretty sure the sweats I’m wearing are Casey’s anyway—and patter out the door in bare feet. No shirt either. I slide the hat on backward to cover my wet hair and head straight for the penthouse without a thought in my head about the consequences.
Because shit like this has consequences.
I feel like a schoolboy who’s just gotten let out of classes for the day. This isn’t the first time I’ve wanted to head up to his penthouse, this is the first time I’ve allowed it. I’ve been doing all that I can to stay out of his bed, but it’s a constant craving I’m too tired to fight tonight. Everyone cheats on a diet now and then; this can be like that.
Knocking on his door, I wait, wishing I’d put some shoes on.
The door swings open. He’s sweaty. There’s music blaring—is that One Direction?—and there’s a little boy with smooth locks of dark curly hair on an iPad. Shit. I’m an ass. I’m involved with my Rhett drama and the house’s biggest sneak of the week—contraband junk food—meanwhile, he’s got a real life with real people who depend on him like a real adult.
“Sorry, I’ll go.”
“No, wait.” He grabs my wrist and shocks of electric current shoot up my arm. We both jump. Did he feel that too? “You can come in. We were just saying goodnight.”
“Um, okay.”
My bare feet patter across his marble floors until I hit the white carpet. The little boy spies me, and his eyes open wider. There’s something of Mercy in him. He’s analytical. Smart. But then he’s also fucking adorable, and Mercy is too sharp to be adorable.
“Hi! Are you friends with my big brother?” he asks as Mercy turns down the music on the iPad.
Friends? No. I’m not sure what we are, but if I don’t understand it, neither will the little guy so I go with that. “Yep. I’m Jack. What’s your name?”
“Theo Meyer. I’m a Meyer. There are lots of us with more coming. I won’t be the youngest anymore, thank fuck.”
“Dude, language. You’re going to get me into fucking trouble,” Mercy says.
I laugh. “You must know where he’s getting it from.”
“We all know where he’s getting it from, but Merc keeps arguing that adults are allowed to swear,” a voice says from the corner behind Theo. A woman with dark hair pops into view. She and Mercy look even more alike than Mercy and Theo do. “Hi, Jack. I’m Bea—younger sister.”
The way she’s smiling at me though … like she’s heard my name before I told Theo. My head snaps to Mercy, my expression full of things like, “oh, really” and “have you been talking to your sister about me”?
“Okay, that’s enough. Goodnight you two,” Mercy says.
“Wait! Merc! I love you more than the whole sky,” Theo shouts with exaggerated hand movements.
“I love you more than the whole universe,” Mercy says.
