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MERRICK
I beat the shit out the punching bag that morning.
In the training warehouse, it was fucking cold. But I didn’t feel anything as I stood there, shirtless, and let the sweat fall like rain.
I know, I can tell.
Despite how my chest ached, I stuck to my schedule and ran through the training with the younger men at the gun range. We had to keep moving forward, growing and getting stronger. The minute I took my foot off the gas was the minute I conceded my territory.
My organization was known for having the deadliest soldiers and I needed to have the firepower to back that up. So I drowned myself in my duties as Brenin and hoped the sweat would somehow wash me clean.
I was still broken that evening as I showered at my office and changed into a suit. Clara was supposed to have dinner with Osian and I had an appointment with Gretchen.
It was for the best.
Gretchen made a pot of blooming jasmine tea and poured me a glass of her best whiskey. I accepted it without protest. She could always tell when it was going to be a tough session.
“Did you break it off?” she asked softly.
I shook my head, jiggling my foot.
“Alright, tell me the worst and we’ll work backwards like we always do.”
We were sitting on opposite ends of the room. She wore her terrycloth, white bathrobe and sat facing me. Tea in her lap. I was as I always was—in a custom suit with one leg crossed over the other.
“Okay,” I said. “I slept with her again and she told me I was like her father the next morning.”
“Ouch,” Gretchen said. “Do you mean, she said it as in…she’s not attracted to you?”
“No. She woke up the next day and found Edwin’s knife and my weapon case. I had to come back to get something and I found her. She was…very upset. For some reason, she said the knife was hers and I told her that it was all I had from her father, that he had made me the man I am.”
Gretchen’s jaw worked. “Alright.”
“And she said that she could tell.”
Silence settled over the room. Then she cocked her head and made a soft sound in her throat.
“What?” I asked.
“Has she ever called you daddy during intercourse?”
I wasn’t surprised by her words. Gretchen had always been forthright.
“Once. Last night I went down on her while we were out to dinner and she seemed like she wanted to, so I encouraged it.”
“You…did that while you were out to dinner?”
“The room was empty.”
“I see.” She pursed her lips, nodding. “How did that make you feel?”
I took a slow sip and let the whiskey burn my throat. My head fell back on the couch and the ceiling filled my vision.
“Good,” I said. “I felt like I was doing something right. Like she was protected and safe.”
“Did she like it?”
“I think so.”
