Page 35 of Lovely Darkness

I open my eyes, gasping for breath. “What—”

Machines are beeping, my head hurts, my vision is blurry, and a face is peering down at me.

My face.

“There he is!” Carter chuckles. “Haha. I knew you’d pull through. I just knew it. That Magnolia. Who knew? Haha. Right? Like… fuckin’ A. Little Indie all over again, am I right?”

“What the hell—”

“No. No, no, no, no. I would very much not recommend sitting up right now.” He points to all the tubes coming out of me. Which isn’t right. They’re not right. They’re not IVs or heart rate monitors. I’m like… in some kind of pod. Some science-fiction pod filled with gel goop. “Calm down. That’s your imagination, bro. Were you watching The Matrix recently? Because this whole thing is fantastic! Welcome to your mind. It’s kinda fucked up. Haha. But don’t worry. I’m here now. It’s all gonna be OK. Just breathe this gas and—”

“What were you saying?”

I look over at Ana and smile. “Was I saying something?”

“You drifted off for a minute. Like you’re a million miles away. Am I boring you? Do you secretly wish you were somewhere else?”

I let out a long breath. It feels like thirty years of stress, like thirty years of relief washes through me. “You know what?”

“What?”

“There is no other place except here. Even when I’m not here with you, I’m still here with you. Does that make any sense at all?”

“No. Haha. No, bro. None. Like, whatsoever! Hahahah. But it’s fine. It’s totally fine. I’m running things now, bro. And not the same way I used to run things, either. This time”—Carter points to his chest—“it’s all me. You’re done. I don’t need you anymore. So go. Be with Ana. Do your thing. I’ve got this.”

I just lie in my bed for a moment. Trying—trying—trying to conjure up the image of Ana and me sitting out on that ledge four years ago.

I should’ve never left. Not for one moment.

“Here! Have another shot of gas!”

I want to push his hand away. I want to believe that’s really his hand and not just my sick mind playing tricks on me. I want to stay here, fix shit, and then find a way forward.

But I’m not him.

He’s strong, and committed, and ruthless.

I’m nothing like him and that means there is no way to win.

So I let him put me under. Only this time, I give in completely.

CHAPTER TEN - MERC

On the far end of the back side of the mansion there is another world of sorts. A place where the ‘help’ lives. In many ways, it’s exactly the same. There is a breezeway, along which are windows on one side and bedroom suites on the other. There is another great room at the end of it that looks nearly identical to the one acting as Donovan Couture’s private hospital, except this one is acting as a kitchen.

The back breezeway faces the northeast end of the pool and the great room windows are so thick with the boughs of an overgrown magnolia tree, the glossy, deep green leaves are pressing up against the glass. You can’t really see past it. This side of the house is mostly shady so everything outside lives in a shadow. My imagination goes a little wild with the thought of swamp creatures out there. Gators, and panthers, and snakes. All trying their best to kill and eat you.

Nice, Louisiana. Nice way to make people feel at home. I mean, fine. The desert is no picnic to live in. I’ll admit that. We get a rattlesnake or two in the yard every year, and the scorpions and black widows are pretty much everywhere. You do not stick your foot inside your shoe until you’ve checked for spiders and scorpions. But none of these things think you are dinner. And sure, if you meet up with a grizzly in the Montana woods, there’s a high probability you’ll have to sacrifice a child to get out of there alive, but that’s why we don’t live there. It’s all fun and games until you have a family. I cannot imagine raising my girls in this wild and dangerous place, let alone allowing them to run loose in that swamp like Indie and Nathan did.

The two of them were tellin’ stories about the ‘good old days’ last night. Mostly filling Wendy in, I think. And Adam and McKay didn’t even blink twice about it. Like all these shenanigans were well known and accepted. No wonder she’s crazy. My girls do not get up to shenanigans.

Anyway.

The kitchen is a break room for the medical staff, which consists of two nurses and Doc. The nurses fill me in on their rotating twelve-hour shifts as one pours me a cup of coffee and the other staples together a comprehensive report on Donovan’s condition over the past several weeks.

Sasha smiles at them as they talk, sipping her own cup of coffee—which was not poured for her. But it’s a fake smile. It’s the smile Sasha uses when she’s only pretending to listen. I think she knows them.

Doc comes in and heads straight for the coffeemaker. He’s the perfect side character in this story. Old, wise, curmudgeon-y. And even though I don’t smoke anymore, and I don’t even like people who smoke these days, I kinda like the fact that Doc smokes.