But she and I are nothing alike. Because she is not me. She is not… us.
She is free. She is normal. She has a house, and a dog, and a family. My family, actually. Because she has Lauren. And Lauren, and Nick, and Chek were all I ever had to begin with. And ever since Nick sent Lauren to live with Sasha, I have been missing something. Missing her, of course. But it was more than that.
And then, when Check died, I was missing another something. Him, of course, but again, it was so much more than that. Because all I had left was Nick.
And now I find that I need more Nick.
More, and more, and more Nick.
But now she’s here.
She’s going to make her claim and demand her parts. Little parts at first. But then more, and more, and more parts until there’s nothing left for me. No leftovers, even. She will get Lauren and Nick and I will have no one.
I’m just about to break away and run. Just get in my truck and drive. For days, and days, and days. Maybe I’ll never stop. I’ll drive west until I run out of road, then go south until I come to the end of the world. I’ll disappear. I’ll leave them alone. They don’t need me. I’m just baggage. I’m just—
The screen door slaps behind me and Nick and I turn to find Merc on the stoop behind us. “Sash.” This single word just a little bit hesitant. “So glad you could come.”
“Is this what you wanted my opinion on?” Sasha is annoyed when she motions to Nick.
“Yes. But there’s more to it than that.” Merc and Nick lock eyes for a moment. “A lot more, actually.”
This is when I notice that Harrison has exited the plane and is walking down the driveway towards us, looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here.
“Fine.” Sasha shrugs. “I’m here. So fuck it. Tell me everything.”
Merc nods his head towards Harrison. “Let’s talk in private.”
She doesn’t argue. No one argues. Sasha Cherlin turns her back to Nick and me, and she and Merc meet up with Harrison halfway down the driveway, then they walk back towards the plane.
“Follow me.” Nick still has a hold of my hand, so when he starts walking, I go with him. He says nothing, just leads me towards the field of sunflowers. It’s late in the day now. The sun is almost gone. But a little bit of orange glow lingers like a halo over the top of the tall flowers.
We enter the field and this is when I realize I have no shoes on. But it’s a good thing. The dirt is thick and soft. It’s special dirt. Cared-for dirt. Dirt filled with everything a little seed needs to survive and grow big. It’s late summer so the sunflowers are tall now, much taller than me. The gorgeous yellow heads kiss Nick’s shoulders as we push past row, after row. They leave behind little dots of orange and black. A clue, I think. But I’m not sure what mystery we’re solving. We turn into another row and suddenly the whole sky is lit up red before me. And it’s such a beautiful contrast over the golden sunflowers—so, so, so fuckin’ pretty—I might cry over it.
But then the words are there.
My words whispering in my ear.
My kisses with Nick.
Flawless, marvelous, divine, sensational.
Heavenly, powerful, glorious, delightful.
Nick stops on the edge of the sunflowers and I see that we have come to a clearing. Everything about the now feels like a fantasy. Like I’m in someone’s storybook and this is the perfect ending. Nick looks over his shoulder at me, smiling. He says, “I made this for us. Years ago, actually. I never let them plant anything here, but I make them cut the grass so it’s short and soft.”
Then he pulls me into the clearing with him and we take a moment to spin in place, staring up at the sky.
I’m lost, I think.
And it’s so weird. Because wasn’t I just found a few hours ago?
Gorgeous, the words say.
Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous, they insist.
But it’s not. Not really, is it?
Because I’m not the last Wild Child, am I?
I am not the last of anything.
I’m a whole new miserable beginning.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - MERC
Sasha is shaking when she reaches for the cup of tea that Harrison brewed while she was facing her worst nightmare. Shaking hard enough that some of the liquid spills over the side of the private-jet-approved bone china cup when she raises it to her mouth.
“Are you OK?” Harrison asks.
It should be me asking. I should not have brought her here. What the hell was I thinking?
“Fine.” Sasha sets the cup down on the little matching saucer and the two pieces of porcelain clatter together for a moment until they settle. Then Sasha smooths out an imaginary wrinkle in her tank top, takes a deep breath, and looks right at me. “What the fuck, Merc?”