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“Then I left.”
She sits next to me, pulling me in for a cuddle. “You’ve left him before, you can do it again,” she says.
“I’m not sure I want to. How do you love someone so broken, so fucked-up, that you know everything they do is wrong, yet you still want to be around them?”
Merci’s hands fall from mine. “I think you just have to decide if it’s something you can live with and stop worrying about what society says is right and wrong. You need to go on how you feel, not on how anyone else feels. Whatever he is or does is just gonna come with being with him…” She pauses. “Think of it like this… he will never judge you because he is worse.” She laughs, but I don’t. “Chanel…” I turn to face her, “… no love is easy. Sometimes, the best kind of love is hard and fucked-up. Yours is just a whole lot of fucked-up.”
“A lot? I think you mean completely.”
“Okay, let me ask you this? How would you feel if he died?” she asks, her eyes looking deep into mine.
“Like shit,” I say, my hand falling to my chest. “I think my heart would break.”
Her shoulder nudges me. “Okay, I think you have your answer. So it’s time, and if he’s still alive, that he tries to win you over. Don’t go to him.”
“I’ll never go to him.”
“Okay, well, let him try.”
I stand. “I’m going to call work and go back.”
“You don’t think it’s too soon?” she asks.
“No, I need to get back to my life. When Brody calls, can you tell him I remember and to call me?” She stands, kisses my cheek, and follows me out.
I pause at the door. “What do you honestly think of Lucas?” I ask her.
She bites her bottom lip. “In the looks department, he’s the type that would cheat on a woman, and she would be apologizing.” I manage to laugh at her statement.
“He is beautiful,” I agree.
“Gurrrl…” She shakes her head. “That man is F.I.N.E. with all capitals, if you know what I mean.”
“I think I do.” I smile as I walk out.
“But you’re right, he is all types of fucked-up.” She cackles. “Déjà vu,” she says as we look out over the stairs leading down. Lucas is there, and he’s leaning against his car. “Call me if you need me.”
I kiss her cheek and make my way down. My steps are slow, and I don’t look up until I reach him. That’s when I see the blood dripping to the ground coming from under his pants.
“It’s only blood,” he says, unfazed. Then he turns, opens the passenger door, and pulls out a bag of books. “You forgot these.”
“You’re alive,” I say on a shocked exhale.
“For the time being.”
“Do you plan to be dead anytime soon?” I ask.
He shrugs. “You never know with Keir. The only reason I’m still breathing is Sailor.”
“Well, I guess you better send her a big thank-you parcel.”
“You think?” he asks, his brows pulled together. “I’ve never had to do that before.” He pauses. “What should I get her?”
I look at the books he’s holding and then his leg. “What did he do?” I ask, nodding to his leg.
“Shot me, then stabbed me.”
“Did it hurt?” Of course, it hurt. I know that, but I want to know what he says.
