The Hero (Thunder Point #3)(70)

He stood in the kitchen doorway. He crossed his arms over his chest. One side of his mouth lifted in a half smile. “Something?”

“I have to... I need to use the bathroom.”

“Finally dependent on me, are you? And if I say no?”

“I’m afraid I might... I could have an accident.”

“If you piss on my floor, I’ll beat you. And you already look like bloody hell.”

Oh, he was getting dangerous. “I just want to use a bathroom, Jacob. Please.”

“I’ll think it over.” Then he turned and left her. And she put her mind in a Zen state that allowed her not to lose control. She would not invite another beating.

* * *

Devon’s next-door neighbor, Mrs. Bledsoe, was very sweet and thoughtful and not only frequently brought a half-dozen cookies over for Mercy, but a couple of times she invited Mercy over to help make them. The only family she had in the area was a twenty-eight-year-old grandson who checked on her regularly even though he had to drive from Coquille to do so. And because Mrs. Bledsoe was more than happy to watch Mercy for a little while, Devon got back into running. Well, it was more like jogging, but she did like to sprint up the hill to her house. And it felt so damn good.

Rawley wasn’t big on time off from work, but he loved it when Devon called his cell phone and asked him if he’d like to come to dinner at her little house. The one thing she couldn’t seem to break him of was bringing little gifts. Sometimes it was something inexpensive for Mercy or some item for Devon’s kitchen. Although he was deadpan if not grumbly when he came to dinner, she could tell he was delighted. And while she was neither a good cook nor extravagant at the grocery, she did try to serve things she thought he’d like. A small roast, red potatoes and green beans like the ones he’d gotten her at the Farmers’ Market. Or a meatloaf, mashed potatoes and sliced tomatoes. And, she remembered a dish of Lorna’s—sausage, squash, onion, peppers and spinach. Mercy wouldn’t eat the sausage dish but Rawley seemed to enjoy it. Or maybe he was just happy to be asked.

“Rawley, you should come to a football game with us sometime,” she said.

“Can’t. Cooper has to go on account of Landon. And I keep the bar open.”

“Does anyone show up out there when there’s a football game in town?”

“Sometimes someone comes in off the bay. But not often. I just ain’t big on a lot of people.”

“It’s really fun,” she said.

“I bought me a DVR,” he said. “I learned how to record shows and I record the sports. If you ever want to see some game...”

“I might join you sometime. But I have a confession to make. I spend some time in front of Spencer’s TV because...well, I have a boyfriend.”

And Rawley showed her a wide expanse of dentures. “Like no one knows? Chickadee, we all know you have a boyfriend. He nice to you?”

“He’s wonderful to me,” she said. “I can’t believe how much my life works right now.”

She felt that Spencer was made for her. She fought the feeling of greediness, because it would feel so good to be able to go places with him other than just Thunder Point, but that was impossible until something changed in the investigation of Jacob’s Fellowship. And to her embarrassment, she secretly wished they could become more official, like maybe a couple with some sort of future plans.

She acknowledged that was probably not the best idea in the world. They’d both just come out of difficult situations. Patience was definitely required.

But in addition to her sweet neighbor Mrs. Bledsoe, her good friend Rawley, her wondrous lover, Spencer, Devon now had girlfriends. She often went to the diner for an afternoon break because she would sometimes see Sarah and Gina, sometimes Lou and Ray Anne and Carrie. They laughed together, shared secrets, told each other things they swore secrecy on and, her favorite, exchanged town gossip.

Now when people came in the clinic, they usually said, “Hey, Devon, how’s it going?” When she went to the football games, as she made her way down the front of the bleachers to her spot with the McCains and the Coopers, people waved and sometimes yelled, “Hi, Devon, hi, Mercy!” If she crossed the street to the diner, it wasn’t unusual for a passing motorist to toot his horn and give a smile and wave. And when she ran down her street, down the hill to the marina and across the beach, almost everyone she passed raised a hand in hello. And once she heard someone say, “The coach’s girl.”

She couldn’t remember being this happy, ever. She had friends, family, love, work.

And then she screwed it up.

She was at Spencer’s—a pretty typical Saturday night. They played Candy Land with the kids followed by a bowl of ice cream. Then Mercy was tucked into Spencer’s bed while Austin headed for his room to watch a movie. Spencer put on a movie for them. Devon reclined on the couch and Spencer reclined on Devon. They cuddled up for the movie. After about an hour, Devon asked, “Spencer, do you think we’ll last?”

“I hope so,” he said. “Since I can’t even think about giving you up.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he said, kissing her neck and pulling her closer. “I think we give it a little more time then maybe talk about the future? Hmm? If you feel the same way?”

“That would be like a dream come true. But I have to ask something else. If you answer no, that’s completely acceptable.”