Coming Home to the Mountain: Complete Edition

10. Merit

CHAPTER 10

Merit

M ore than anything, I feel like a bitch for basically telling him to back off.

I rock back and forth in front of the extinguished fireplace, just filled with ennui. There’s a TV in the other room, but I wonder if they even have a signal. I never wanted to check when I was here alone, afraid someone would hear the noise or see the light and come check it out.

There’s a satellite dish on the cabin, but is it functioning? This is a vacation home, Mac said.

Not that I really want to watch TV anyway. I just want something to distract me from my troubling thoughts.

Why am I pushing away the one man who has done so much for me? The only man who has shown me such incredible kindness? Never once have I doubted his sincerity. Mac Rough spoke of forever and he meant it completely.

It’s too much like a fairy tale. Too much like a dream.

It’s not like I’m absolutely convinced that life has to be terrible. The past ten years have been, yes. But I remember being a kid and going to the beach. Drinking soda pop and eating ice cream. The world never ended or fell apart like my parents believed. It’s still out there. Waiting for me.

And Mac is more than willing to be by my side while I go and explore it.

I’m afraid of waking up. Finding out that all this time I’ve still been trapped in the compound, about to be wed to that man-child Gregory. Nothing more than my father’s servant and asset.

This isn’t some weird dream sequence though. I’ve slapped myself more than enough times that I should have woken up by now if it was.

Mac loves me. He adores me.

And I love him.

It’s scary. It’s sudden, but it’s damn true.

And seeing him so dejected as I told him to leave me alone this morning hurt me so much.

I need to apologize. Do something for him.

I stand up and head into the kitchen, looking into the fridge and cabinets. I’m going to make him dinner for change. I think we have everything I need to make fried chicken like my grandma used to make. I set to work, cracking the eggs and making the batter, and peeling some potatoes to get some good sides going. I want to learn how to cook properly, too. Maybe Mama Rough can give me some lessons.

Mac is going to come home to a hot dinner tonight. And I’m going to apologize for being so standoffish. Then? I’m going to tell him that I love him. No ifs, ands, or buts. Just the truth.

And he’ll tell me the same. I know he loves me just like I know I love him. He’s damn near told me so many times.

When I finally get a lull in my cooking, I step out on the back porch and enjoy the cool breeze of the day. It’s so peaceful and serene, and I stretch out.

And hear footsteps. I cock an eyebrow. Twigs break, someone walking through brush. I panic, then silence myself.

Okay, maybe Mac is back a bit early. Dinner’s not done yet, but that just means it’ll for sure be hot for him when I finish up.

“Welcome back!” I shout.

Only for two men to step out of the brush, and neither of them are the bright, smiling man I love.

It’s my father and one of the other men from the compound. My dad stares at me with the burning anger of a thousand suns.

“You ungrateful little cunt.”

I swallow, trembling in place.

Maybe I’m waking up from this dream after all.