Page 7 of Broken Mercy
Riley drinks her wine and rubs her face. “I tried to talk him out of it,” she admits reluctantly. “I told him you weren’t ready, but he insisted. Arsen thinks this is the best way we can bring you into the fold, you know, now that you’re?—“
She doesn’t finish the sentence. Bitterness wells in my throat.
“Now that I’m disgraced?”
“On the outs. Come on, don’t be like that.”
“You said it, not me.”
Riley fidgets. Flick, click, snap. “This’ll be good for you. It’ll give you some purpose, create a path back into the family, and Dad wants it, so?—“
“Dad? I haven’t heard from him in months. Didn’t know he was still aware of my existence.”
“Yeah, well, you know him.”
“He’s a fucking prick?”
“More or less. Focus on the positives. Tallie’s a really nice girl. She’s going to be a good wife, if you let her.”
I can’t look at my sister anymore. I pace back and forth, spinning the lighter between my fingers. God, if she only knew what me and thatreally nice girldid in the office, Riley might change her tune.
But it’s not like I hold it against Tallie or anything like that. I was the one who made a move on her, already knowing who she was and what we were to each other. She had no clue, which explains the fainting after she found out she got sold off to a minor thief and a major failure.
“This is how you can be useful again. I know you’ve been suffering here with nothing to do. You haven’t been able to take any jobs, haven’t been able to do anything but stomp around this beautiful apartment.” She gestures at my place and doesn’t bother to hide her disdain.
Not that I disagree, but I don’t love getting that judgement from my sister.
“I choose to stay here. It’s out of the way. Nobody knows me.”
“But you could afford better if you wanted, and now that you’re going to get married?—“
“Is that why you pushed to arrange me to a Sarkissian cousin? So I’d move into a nicer place?”
“Won’t hurt.”
“Come on, Riley. You don’t have to fix me. I’m not even broken.”
She suddenly acts like her wine glass is very interesting and I realize I’m squeezing the lighter so tight its edges are bitinginto my palm. I let out a breath and run a hand through my hair, clenching my jaw. The worst part of this is, she’s right, I need something to drag me from this horrible in-between place I’ve found myself, disgraced but not exiled, recovering from too many wounds and still suffering from all the awful shit that went down in Vegas and the fallout from it afterwards, and maybe that something is going to be Tallie.
Or else I’ll be a crappy husband like I’m a crappy brother.
Nobody needs that shit in their life.
Least of all a nice girl like Tallie.
“I know you aren’t broken.” My sister’s voice is small and clearly hurting. “But you haven’t been the same. I miss you, you know? The old you, the one that wasn’t always hiding.”
“I’m not hiding. I’m right here.”
“Yeah, true, you’re right here, in some nondescript apartment with a go-bag waiting near the door and rented furniture. It’s like you barely exist.”
“The go-bag is practical. I don’t care about apartment decorations like you do. We’re different people, that’s all.”
“Yeah, you’re definitely different. I want to help, but—“ She takes a breath and downs her wine. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Tallie will come around. The wedding’s happening in a few weeks. You’ll be ready, right?”
“I promised you I’d do it.”
She gets up and hugs me fiercely. “I know you did. I hope you actually show up, that’s all.”
