What the accident turned me into.
I don’t want the time with Liam to go to waste, and I drive into Cedar Hill. I want to note my feelings, study them. How do I feel driving closer to the city that ripped my life away? I expected to sweat, shake, want to turn back, but the only thing I know is as the miles fade in my rearview mirror, I’m closer to Devyn.
When Beau called and told me someone shot at her while they were walking around the site, I couldn’t think about anything but reaching her, witnessing with my own eyes she was okay.
That should have been my first indication I could handle the city and anything living there brought so long as she was with me.
I didn’t tell Liam, but I’m sure he knew, I didn’t abandon Devyn in her hospital room because of the city and the emotions it evokes when I’m trapped in the maze of its buildings. It was my own inadequacies as a man who could barely search his own site to look for her. That terrible truth will reveal itself, and either she’ll forgive me and understand or she’ll look at me the way Renata did the day she walked out on me in my own hospital room.
The high rises and skyscrapers mar a beautiful skyline, but I can’t think that way if Devyn wants to stay and keep her job at the Times. I’ll need to rediscover the beauty Cedar Hill can offer. I’ve known only the ugliness for too long.
I enter the Times’ lobby a little after lunch, and I’m out of place in my work boots, jeans, button-down shirt, and wool coat. I haven’t shaved, haven’t cut my hair. I look like the beast social media called me as pictures of me outside the hospital were released the day I was discharged and limped out the front doors. Maybe I did it on purpose. This is who I am, and I will never change. Maybe I want Devyn to see it.
Liam would shoot me a stink eye. Through all this, only Beau and Devyn have seen the real me. I don’t have to force her to see anything. She sees enough all on her own.
Newsom’s office door is shut, and I rap once before I open it and let myself in.
Renata’s sitting in his lap, he has his arms around her, and they’re kissing. They break apart when I stride into his office. She jumps off his leg, and with her cheeks flushed, she wipes her mouth. “Rick. What are you doing here?”
She looks good in dress slacks and a black and cream sweater. She’s always been beautiful, and she still has that sparkle I fell for all those years ago.
“Mercer! Good to see you!” Newsom booms, rounding his desk and holding out his hand. “Helluva thing with that fucking accident.” He glances at Renata. “Devyn sure discovered a pile of shit, didn’t she? She’s the best goddamned reporter I ever had. Does this mean you’re going to clean up and rebuild?”
He’s talking about the site, but he could also be talking about my life. Yeah, I need to clean up and rebuild.
“That’s up to Beau, but for now, that’s the plan.”
“Good, good. Let me pour you a drink. What are you doing in the city? Moving back now that the truth is out in the open?”
“What do you mean?” I say, accepting a glass of the whiskey he favors.
Renata hovers near Newsom’s desk, watching us.
“The stigma of the accident’s gone, and you don’t have to shoulder the blame for it any longer. The deaths of those two men weren’t your fault. You moved to Old Harbor to hide from the scrutiny, didn’t you? You were blackballed in all our circles, Mercer. You knew it. Renata knew it. You had nowhere else to go.”
Like I cared about any of that shit.
I turn my sharp gaze to Renata. “Is that why you left me? It didn’t have anything to do with the way I look, did it? You left because the accident was my fault, and you didn’t want to be near it.”
“I—”
“All you wanted was to be on top. Why didn’t I see that?” Disgusted and disappointed, I stare into the amber liquid. I don’t want it, and for once since the accident, I don’t need it.
“That’s not it, Rick,” she says, stepping forward.
“Then what is it? I was in the hospital for months. I had no idea what was being said about me, about the accident, but you did. What were they saying aboutyou, Renata? That you were just as bad if you stayed with me? While I was recuperating, did the invitations dry up? Did your friends tell you to divorce me to keep your reputation intact?”
She lifts her chin. “You might have forgotten that I tried to talk to you. I stayed with you for days, sleeping on that cot, and all you would do is glare at the wall. What did you expect me to do?”
“Let me process what happened, for fuck’s sake. Give me time to grieve those men, give me time to grieve what I lost.”
“Oh, and what exactly did you lose?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest, her dark brown hair hanging in a shining sheet over her shoulders.
“My health. You know that. That’s why you didn’t stay—you didn’t want to be chained to a guilty cripple. Christ, how would that have looked?”
I knock back the drink, and the alcohol slides smoothly down my throat.
Newsom watches us from his place near his bar, studying my ex-wife.