Page 8 of Don't Leave Me Behind
Another message pops up from Mercer, this one in our private thread. I smile at his name. Years ago, Mercer got hold of my phone and changed everyone’s contact name into someridiculous nickname. He put his asSexy Cowboy. I changed it to Merc D because it makes him mad, but also Leni calls him D. Another little piece of her that I can’t seem to let go of.
Merc D
We’ll definitely be talking about this when you get here. I’ve instructed Patsy not to call me out
Good luck with that.
Merc D
The scent of coffee fills my nose the closer I get to the first floor. There’s a skillet of fluffy scrambled eggs on the stove, and my travel mug sat by the coffee maker like always. Leni is already tucked into her breakfast at the small dining room table. One foot propped on her chair, cheek resting on her knee between bites. An arm draping around her leg in a half-hug.
“Still sitting like a gremlin?” My eyes catch a tiny stripe of pale pink cotton fabric that I hadn’t noticed before. One small scrap of clothing between me and whatever heaven she's hiding between those thighs.
“My eyes are up here, Traeger.”
“Yeah, but your panties are on full display right there.” I jab a finger toward her lap.
The leg she had propped up slips back down, crossing over the opposite knee. My eyes find hers, a fire burning in them. Leni might’ve been all sugar once, but I got a feeling she's adopted more spice in the years since I last saw her. “You gonna tell me how I can dress in my own home?”
“Technically, I think the cabin still belongs to your parents.”
Her eyes widen, steam practically billowing out of her earsas her nostrils flare.Yup, that was the exact wrong thing to say.“Don’t you have a job to be at, or something?”
“Sure do. Don’t you have some explaining to do about why you showed up in the middle of the night and don’t want to tell your family?”
“It’s not really any of your business, is it?”
“Come on,” I roll my eyes and scoop the rest of the eggs onto a paper plate to take on the road. “You guys tell each other everything. What could be so bad you can’t tell them you’re home?”
She snorts, a mirthless laugh scraping out of her. “Yeah, okay. Whatever, Clay.”
“No, seriously,” I stammer. “I haven’t been gone that long. You guys tell each other everything. This isn’t you.”
“You don’t know me anymore, Clayton.” She spits my name out like a curse, shaking her head. Definitely spicier than I remember. I used to know everything about her; now I’m left with the scraps her brothers have told me over the years. She’s changed, we both have, but there’s so much I don’t know about her. I don’t know this version of Leni…but I want to. I want to unravel all the pain she’s holding onto and fix it to make her the same girl she was beforethatnight.
“Well, I’m here to talk, if you need someone to listen.”
She grunts, turning back to her food, tucking that same leg back under her chin.
“Thanks for the coffee. I’m gonna take the eggs to go.”
A wave of her hand dismisses me. Her eyes flick back in my direction for a second, but I hold myself back from walking over, like I might kiss her goodbye. The truth is, Iwantto kiss her goodbye. Good thing I’ve spent the past decadenotacting on the things I want to do to her. She deserves someone better, someone who doesn’t make her flinch when they walk by.
“Need anythingfrom town?”
“No—ooh, yes! Coffee creamer, please.”
I groan, throwing my head back to look at the ceiling. “You know, Bertie is just going to text Ethan and tell him that I’m buying coffee creamer, right?”
“I read the group chat, might as well perpetuate this idea that you’re sleeping with someone.” She wrinkles her nose when she says it, like she doesn’t quite like the idea of it. I don’t either, to be honest.
“Easy for you to say when you’re not the one they’re interrogating.”
Leni sticks her tongue out at me, little brat that she is.
“You're going to be the death of me, you know that?”
Slipping my Stetson onto my head, I make my way to the door. The piercing sound of glass shattering sends my pulse into my throat. I reach for my pistol, pivoting on my heel, my upper body tucked low. Leni’s coffee mug lies on a broken breakfast plate; her shoulders hunched to her ears. She doesn’t look at me, shoving off the table to grab a towel from the kitchen.
