The Reality of Wright and Wrong Page 2

  In that moment, I realized I wasn’t ready.

  For anything.

  But especially this—life without Jordan.

  Brogan must’ve sensed my hesitation, because he stilled in front of me. He sketched my face with his fingertip, running across my brow, around the outer corner of my eye, over my cheek, and along my jawline to my chin. The entire time he touched me, I couldn’t focus on anything other than the intensity with which he regarded me. Even if I couldn’t see it.

  “You sure about this, Mercy?”

  God, the way he said my name—filled with gravel and weighted with thick fog.

  Manly.

  Rough.

  Rugged.

  Dangerous.

  And fucking delicious.

  I nodded and attempted to curl my lips into a smile. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

  “Okay then. Let’s go.” The way he said it sounded like he knew I’d go anywhere with him.

  I’d either lost my mind or had way too much to drink. I was a trusting person but never to this extent. Never had I been the type of girl who’d hop into a man’s car just because he was hot. Hookups weren’t my thing, and casual sex wasn’t something I’d ever experienced.

  Not that leaving with Brogan meant I’d hop into his bed.

  Either way, I got into the passenger seat of his red Wrangler and took a deep breath. I had no idea where I was headed. The only thing that mattered was that I was leaving Jordan behind. It’d be scary. I knew that the second I slipped the diamond off my left ring finger and set it down. But there was no way I’d let him win.

  Jordan may have thought I was a pushover—I was not.

  And in a way I couldn’t explain, being around Brogan made me believe that.

  2

  Brogan

  I stood in front of the fridge with the doors wide open, mindlessly looking through the contents to see what I even wanted to eat. There was a lot—I’d gone grocery shopping this morning—though nothing really stuck out. Then again, that might’ve had something to do with the fact that my thoughts were on a certain raven-haired goddess instead of the food in front of me.

  I couldn’t shake her, no matter how hard I tried.

  Granted, it probably would’ve been easier to do had I not sensed her walking into my kitchen. I couldn’t see anything other than the inside of the fridge, yet even without seeing her, I knew she was there. Without smelling her, without hearing her…I just knew.

  I sensed her.

  Mercy would end up reviving me or pulling the plug.

  And there was only one way to find out which one she’d do—wait it out.

  There wasn’t an ounce of me that had expected her to take me up on my offer to give her a lift. So, when she’d accepted a ride, I couldn’t very well change my mind. And when we couldn’t find a hotel that was both safe and affordable for a week’s stay, I’d foolishly offered to let her come home with me. Again, not thinking she’d say yes.

  In all fairness, she never said yes. Instead, she’d muttered, “You’d really let a stranger stay in your house?” It was cute. And adorable. And it did something to me. I couldn’t say no. Not that I’d wanted to. Everything about tonight—from seeing her with Joe outside Rulebreakers to being unable to find a reasonable hotel—seemed rehearsed. Planned. Orchestrated as if the universe had controlled the strings to make all this happen for us.

  Divine intervention, if you will.

  And I was smart enough to know not to argue with fate.

  “Hungry?” I asked without closing the door to the fridge. To keep from looking like I’d just stood there for the last five minutes, undecided on what to eat, I grabbed the carton of eggs from the shelf, as well as a package of cheese and diced ham.

  And as soon as I took a step back to place everything on the counter, I found her standing in front of the kitchen island, hair wet and swept off her shoulders, amber eyes dancing around the room. Still, she hadn’t said a word.

  “I know it’s late…” I glanced at the time on the microwave above the stove. “Damn, it’s almost two in the morning. But I haven’t eaten since this afternoon, so I’m starving. I’m going to make an omelet; would you like one?”

  Dropping her gaze to the counter between us, she shook her head and rasped, “I’m not really hungry.”

  I wasn’t sure what had her so closed off, and normally, I wouldn’t care. But something inside me refused to let this go, refused to let her shut down without knowing why. She hadn’t been overly talkative earlier, though nothing close to how reserved she seemed now. Something had happened, and I wouldn’t rest until I understood what it was.

  “Are you ever going to tell me what went down tonight?” I asked as I grabbed a large frying pan from the cabinet. “If I’m hiding you from your fiancé, I think I should at least know what I’m getting myself into.”

  She shrugged while fidgeting with her fingers and picking invisible things off the granite. So I stole the opportunity to see her, really take her in—something I hadn’t been able to do earlier. I wasn’t sure if it was the lack of makeup, the casual clothing instead of her sexy dress, the knowledge that she had been naked in my house, or the lighting in the kitchen, but something made her look and feel like a completely different person than the one I’d picked up outside Rulebreakers.

  She seemed…more innocent.

  Younger.

  More broken.

  And while I’d felt something in my soul while we stood on the sidewalk outside of her boyfriend’s house, it was nothing compared to this moment. Familiarity sizzled in the air. But not like I’d met her before. No. It wasn’t déjà vu. The closest thing I could compare it to would be a mirror—as if looking into her eyes had allowed me to see into my own.

  The oil in the pan began to smoke, pulling me from the trance she’d unknowingly put me under.

  “How old are you, anyway?” I cracked a few eggs, barely paying any attention to what I was making. I didn’t slow down for fear she’d suck me right back in…and then I’d end up burning my house down. “You look too young to be getting married.”

  “Twenty-three.” If she continued to check out everything in this kitchen but me, I would soon take it personally and likely develop a complex. “And I guess I’m not getting married anymore, so there’s that.”

  “About that…” I stared at her until she finally lifted her gaze to meet my eyes. “I don’t mean to pry or anything, but I kind of need to know what to expect. If you were my girl and I found out that you were staying at some guy’s house, I’d flip my shit.”

  “He’s not like that.” She offered the tiniest, shyest smirk when I questioned her with a quirked brow and cocked head. “I just mean he wouldn’t start a fight. I’m sure he’d be mad, but he doesn’t have any right to be. I wouldn’t be staying at another guy’s house if I hadn’t caught him practically having sex on the dance floor tonight.”

  That had been my first assumption when I found her earlier, but the last thing I’d wanted to do was jump to any conclusions. If I’d done that, there was no way in hell I would’ve left without taking a stroll through the bar to make this prick understand what he’d lost.

  “You said you came early to surprise him?” Cooking anything seemed to be difficult with Mercy in front of me. I doubted I’d be able to toast bread in her presence.

  “Yeah. I dropped my suitcase off at his house and then located him on his phone. He told me earlier that he was going out with some friends, so I figured I’d surprise him by showing up wherever he was.” She sighed and mumbled, “It was quite the surprise.”

  “So he has no idea you’re even in town?”

  She shrugged while she resumed picking at the granite, as though something was stuck to the countertop. “I guess he’ll realize it when he sees the ring on the table next to the front door. If not, then he’ll figure it out when I don’t show up at the airport on Sunday.”

  “You’re seriously not going to tell him? You’re just going to wait until
he figures it out?” Damn…Mercy Wright was a badass with a halo. And it made me wonder what else she kept hidden beneath her wings.

  She slid down the island enough to stand closer. Her scent consumed me. It overpowered the egg and oil and drifted beneath my nose. Lavender. I’d recognize that scent anywhere, though it always seemed to smell different on everyone. On Mercy, it smelled like dawn and brought to mind the vision of a sunrise. The burnt oranges and crimson. Warm yellows that promised a new day filled with happiness.

  “I was going to.” Her soft voice dispelled the daze I’d been in. She must’ve noticed my confusion—I couldn’t remember what I had said to even know what she was talking about—because her brows drew together for a split second. “When I was there to get my suitcase…I wrote him a letter and was going to leave it with my ring. But since he didn’t think I deserved his fidelity, I decided he didn’t deserve an explanation.”

  With a smile I couldn’t erase, I sprinkled some cheese over the egg before folding it in half. “I don’t blame you. But what are you going to do when he calls you a million times to find out where you are? He’ll probably think you’re dead somewhere and call the authorities.” That made me laugh. Mostly because I enjoyed the thought of the cops finding her here. I enjoyed that thought better when I imagined them finding her in my bed. “Can he track your location?”

  “I turned the tracking off before I got here. It wouldn’t have been much of a surprise if he realized I was in town. Then again”—she lowered her voice and her chin—“that might’ve saved me some heartache in the end.”

  “At least you know the truth. It’s better to find out now than after you married the jackass.” I wasn’t typically one who talked shit about people I didn’t know. But anyone willing to cheat—especially on someone as innocent as Mercy—deserved much worse than being called a donkey. “Gotta look at it that way, or you’ll go crazy.”

  “You sound like you speak from experience.”

  I cut the omelet in half, slid a piece onto two different plates, then pushed one toward her. After I put the pan into the sink and grabbed us each a fork, I decided to give her an answer to her non-question. “I have experience being cheated on, yes. Except I wasn’t lucky enough to find out before the wedding.”

  “Are you married?”

  “Not anymore.” I shoved a bite into my mouth and acted as though the egg was too hot to keep talking. It was the only thing I could think of at the time to excuse my lack of explanation, and telling her I didn’t want to talk about it seemed insensitive. After all, she was in the middle of her own crisis and, more than likely, yearned for support. Or at least someone who understood what she was going through.

  Except I didn’t understand.

  Because my situation was very different from hers.

  Either Mercy didn’t want to pry, or she truly was hungry—even though she’d told me she wasn’t—because rather than continue the conversation, she stuck her omelet with her fork and took bite after bite until the entire thing was gone. Once we were both done with our two a.m. snack, I took both plates to the sink to rinse them off.

  Neither of us had spoken since she asked if I was married. However, as soon as I closed the dishwasher and turned to face her, my reason for remaining silent had nothing to do with deflection. It had everything to do with how unbelievably stunning she was. And the best part…she didn’t even have to try.

  Every speck of makeup she’d worn earlier had been washed away with her shower, allowing me to see her more clearly. Her dark hair had dried some, leaving it in long, messy waves—like she’d spent the day at the beach. Even her face appeared to have been sun-kissed with the cherry hue of her cheeks. She held her hands in front of her, wringing her fingers while toying with her bottom lip between her teeth. If only she’d lift those golden eyes so I could see all of her.

  I’d known her for two hours, yet I had no doubt that Mercy was different.

  Damn…even her name was something else.

  Normally, this would’ve been the moment when I’d lead the girl into my room and strip her naked, lay her on my bed, and make her understand why everyone called me Wrong. But not this time. Not with her. She wasn’t here to climb between my sheets, and I rarely had actual guests—women who spent time here without taking their clothes off or screaming my name in ecstasy. I was probably just as confused as she was, unsure of where to go from here.

  I scratched at the back of my neck and cleared my throat. It worked to get her to look at me, and the second her eyes met mine, I was once again at a loss for words. “So, uh…there’s a TV in the bedroom. It’s connected to Netflix but not cable. If you want cable, you’re more than welcome to use the one in the living room.” I pointed to the open space beyond the kitchen, as if she’d somehow missed the large sectional couch or floor-to-ceiling entertainment center when she first walked through it.

  “Thanks, but I’m pretty tired. I think I’ll just go to bed. I didn’t want to be rude and walk away if you…” She lifted one shoulder and glanced around the room. I’d seen her do this a few times, like her words had gotten away from her and she had to find them before speaking again. “If you still wanted company or something.”

  I wasn’t sure if this was her way of hitting on me or not, nor was I sure how I felt about it. Instead of figuring out the answer to either of those questions, I offered a smile and said, “Nah, but thank you. If you were staying up and didn’t want to be alone, I’d hang out on the couch or something, but I’m beat. So I guess it’s best if we both turn in.”

  Mercy nodded and put one foot behind the other. “Goodnight, Brogan. And thanks again for tonight. I really appreciate you helping me out.”

  “No problem. I guess I was just in the right place at the right time.” I hated to think about what would’ve happened to her had I not shown up. Where she might’ve gone. Where she would’ve stayed.

  With a sheepish smile, she turned around and slipped into the spare room right off the kitchen. It wasn’t until she closed the door that I turned out the lights and went to bed—only to lay there for God knows how long, staring at the ceiling, and pondering divine intervention versus coincidence.

  My eyes slowly opened, the bedroom door coming into focus as I lay on my side and waited for the fog of slumber to dissipate. Warm light filtered in through my bedroom window and, based on the vibrant colors it splashed across my walls, I could only assume it was still early.

  Taking in a deep breath, I rolled to my back and stretched my arms above my head to rid my body of the remaining elements of sleep. Doing so had opened the floodgates in my mind, allowing every memory from last night to rush in. To sweep through my every thought until flash after flash of Mercy’s face danced behind my eyes.

  I jumped out of bed, more worried about whether she’d left than the time. Urgency fueled my every move as I frantically grabbed a pair of pants to pull on—walking out naked would ensure she’d take off. I didn’t worry about a shirt, unwilling to waste another second.

  My heart hammered harder with each room I found empty. The last thing I checked was the front door, which remained locked. That didn’t mean she hadn’t left, considering there was always the garage door, which she could’ve closed on her way out. After all, that was the point of entry last night; it made sense that would be the way she exited as well. Either way, I felt like a little boy who’d just lost his comfort blanket.

  It was an unfamiliar feeling.

  My feet were weighted with lead, and my shoulders hung with defeat as I trudged into the kitchen to pour myself a cup of coffee. I managed to fill a mug, grab the milk from the fridge, and add a splash before contemplating how I even had coffee in the first place if I hadn’t made it. It was then that I caught a flash of red through the kitchen window.

  Standing on the patio next to the pool, leaning against the glass partition between the edge of the deck and the fifteen-foot drop to the bottom, was Mercy. She had on a red shirt that hit her mid-thigh, and had sh
e not been arched forward, ass popped out, I wouldn’t have noticed the black shorts beneath it. Dark hair veiled her back, errant strands drifting over her shoulders. She peered into the distance, head turned in profile, granting me a glimpse of her tranquil expression.

  Awe hung on her lips and brightened her eyes as she admired the rising sun.

  Damn she was sexy.

  I could stand in front of my kitchen sink and watch her through the window all day. The way she took in the scene calmed my soul. The sight before me was like mainlining euphoria, filling me with warmth and an inner quiet I never thought possible.

  What I wouldn’t give to wake up to this every morning.

  That thought alone was enough to snap me out of my daze and push me into action. I grabbed the hot ceramic mug and stepped toward the French doors that led to the patio. It took tremendous effort to slow my movements, hide my eagerness, and feign casualty. Weakness wasn’t something I was used to, so I couldn’t for the life of me understand where it came from now.

  3

  Mercy

  I had never seen anything quite as beautiful as the view from Brogan’s back patio.

  That was…until the door creaked open behind me, pulling my attention from the colorful sky over the treetops to the colorful chest of a god. I’d wondered last night about the extent of his ink, and now, I had a bit of a clearer picture. Granted, I still couldn’t see it all thanks to the light-grey track pants that hung low on his hips and covered his legs.

  I couldn’t speak or move. Not even blink. The man in front of me consumed my every thought and, possibly, controlled my every action. Right now, it was as though he’d pressed pause, freezing me in time so that only my heart beat and my lungs filled with air.