Page 134 of Lovely Darkness

“So what you’re saying is, it’s up to you?”

She smiles at me. “Yes. It’s up to me. And he’s not going anywhere.”

“How can you say that? He’s… sick, Sasha.”

“Is he?”

I almost guffaw.

“Merc. I shouldn’t have to tell you this, but I’m going to anyway. Belief is a powerful thing.”

“So are lies,” I deadpan.

This makes her pause, which feels like a win. “He believes he’s cured, Merc. And so, because he has this belief, he is cured.”

“Except he’s not.”

“You missed the point. He believes he is. Carter—for lack of a better name—hasn’t shown back up. He’s under twenty-four-seven surveillance. He has a therapist. He takes mood stabilizers. It’s been almost eight months since we left Old Home. Almost five since he came out of his initial survival intensive. If he didn’t believe in his cure, trust me, Carter would’ve shown up in the first three months. We pushed him hard. Indie, too. She—” Sasha holds up a hand. “I know you’re not interested in Indie, but she’s thriving. Better than ever. I’ve known her for a very long time now. She was one of the first girls I met after Jax. She had run away for—who the hell knows with Indie. Everything is a crisis. Everything is drama. But she couldn’t remember why she had run away. We had already set up the safehouse—resort, we like to call it—in Wyoming. So I took her there. Boy, she was a mess. We did occasional two-week intensives after that. Sometimes she even worked for me. Donovan was there too. Carter, or whoever that personality is, because we know he’s not Carter. He was there too, on occasion. Ana was the one who found him while she was in medical school. She brought him to the resort as both Carter and Donovan. She was the glue, so to speak. And even though the second personality is a tad more mad-scientist than I would prefer, he’s just searching for his own truth.”

“But if he’s not allowed to surface, then how can the second find his truth?”

“One truth at a time, Merc. One truth at a time.”

I don’t know what to say after that. I could ask about the others. Adam and McKay. But I don’t care about them. So instead, I say, “How’s Nick?”

Sasha shakes her head a little. “I’m following him. But from a distance. I said one year, he gets one year. But all reports point to Wendy being just fine. She’s always been the sensible one, though, hasn’t she?”

“The one who refuses to remember that she violently killed what amounts to her father? That Wendy? She’s the sensible one?”

Sasha chuckles. “It’s relative, I guess. But if anyone has a chance at a normal life, it’s Wendy.” I must have a look on my face, because Sasha puts up a hand. “I get it, OK? I’m not being flippant here. I understand your concerns. But we have two choices in this life, Merc. Just two. How much love do we give and how much support do we offer? Sometimes it’s so crystal-clear who deserves our love and support and who doesn’t. Other times, we follow our hearts. My life has never been clear. I follow my heart all over the place. And maybe, one day, I’ll regret that. But then again, maybe I won’t. We only get one round, ya know? Just one chance to live a life. And the whole thing goes by so fast. A blink, really. We get nothing but a blink.”

Her gaze wanders until she finds each of her kids again. Then she finds Jax.

“It’s all so temporary,” she says. Then her blue eyes find mine. “And one day it’ll be gone and we’ll just be alone. So stop questioning everything, Merc. Enjoy it. No matter how bad things get, there are always blessings. Count your blessings.”

Then she gets up, walks over to Jax, takes his beer from his hand, wraps her arms around him, and they slow-dance. Even though there is no music, they slow-dance.

I can’t silence the echo of her words inside my head. Because she’s right.

One day, we might be sick again.

But on this day, we are cured.

EPILOGUE - NICK

It’s a big day for two reasons. One, it’s been one year. Which means my time is up. And two, we have a “thing” scheduled.

Right after I gave Adam his message from Sasha, I put Wendy in my truck. Fuck this shit. That’s all I could think about. Just fuck this shit. I emptied out her truck, left her keys in the ignition, and we got the hell out of there.

Just like that.

See you assholes the fuck later.

And I guess Adam got over the idea that maybe we’re brothers and we might have some connection or thing going on, because he never called, he never wrote… there was not even a real goodbye.

We haven’t heard from them since and that’s fine. Wendy and I, we’ve got other things happening.

Once we were on the road, I told Wendy about the letter I wrote after Sasha left. I pulled it out of my back pocket—the envelope already creased and bent—and handed it over. “Read it,” I said. “And then we’re gonna talk.”