Page 101 of Cold Mercy

James appears behind her, broad smile, arms open.

“Look who decided to grace us with her presence.”

They’re the only two people in the world I let tease me like this.

We walk inside, and I fill them in on the sale of the house and the relief of finally packing up that part of my life. I never mention Thomas, and I am endlessly grateful that they love me enough to leave his name in the silence without forcing me to explain anything.

James is reaching for a tray of drinks when he glances toward the entryway.

“Oh, there he is.”

My stomach tightens so sharply I almost gasp. Elizabeth’s eyebrows shoot up; her eyes dart toward the door.

The moment I turn, a painful stillness settles over me. My eyes find him in the middle of the room, and the sight of him steals the air from my lungs. It's Thomas, but he looks...different. Older, and carrying a new, unfamiliar weight in his eyes.

Like the last three months, carved shadows beneath his eyes and hollowed out pieces of him that used to burn so brightly.

Good. I hope it was miserable. He looks like absolute shit, and honestly, I am here for it. Karma is a bitch, and she clearly has his home address.

Sorry, Dr. Keller. My ‘emotional progress’ just hit a wall, and I am perfectly fine with it. I hope he looks even worse tomorrow.

Before my pulse even settles, another figure steps in behind him.

Charles.

Elizabeth squeals and pushes past us toward him.

“You made it!”

And James nudges my shoulder with a grin so wide it should be illegal.

“Look who showed up, girls. Your favorite troublemaker from high school.”

I tear my gaze away from Thomas with force, like ripping glass from my skin, and focus on Charles instead.

He lights up the second he sees me. I manage a breathless laugh and step forward, grateful for an escape. Thomas straightens as if expecting me to come toward him, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.

Without stopping, I take a deliberate step to the side, my gaze fixed ahead as I walk past him and straight into Charles's arms.

He lifts me gently off the ground with a warm, familiar squeeze.

“God, it’s good to see you, sweetheart.”

I feel the weight of his eyes as Charles sets me down. Is that your ‘actual life’ looking back at you, pretty boy? Drink it in. I hope it tastes like battery acid.

Elizabeth insists on giving me a full tour of the place almost immediately. I follow her and James up the stairs, letting the others trail behind us.

The house has eight bedrooms, which I’m convinced they booked before everything collapsed, back when they probably expected Thomas and me to share one of them without a single awkward thought. Elizabeth leans toward me as she opens one of the doors and whispers quickly into my ear, almost embarrassed by her planning.

“We booked this place months ago… when things between you two looked… good. It has a king-size bed.”

She gives me that guilty smile that always makes people forgive her, but I don't answer. There's nothing to forgive, just as there is nothing left to explain.

I take a breath.

“I can sleep downstairs on the couch if it makes everything easier.” The idea of sharing any borrowed air with Thomas in the same hallway feels like too much, even if we don’t speak, even if we pretend we’re strangers.

James overhears us as he comes up the stairs with Thomas behind him. He immediately shuts the whole ‘I’ll sleep downstairs’ argument down with that easy confidence that always makes him sound like he has everything under control.