Page 187 of Merciless

I was a nervous wreck all day as I waited for him to return.

I knew that if he got caught that I’d probably never see him again and that the next person to turn up at this house would be my father to drag me home.

I wouldn’t go willingly though. I would fight with everything I had to stop him. I promised myself that.

Thankfully, it wasn’t necessary and when the front door opened a few hours later, it was Mav who called for me. I ran full speed to him and found him in the hallway toeing off his shoes with a whole stack of notebooks in his arms.

I cried. Full, whole body wracking sobs at the sight of them. They held every single thing about my life and I knew that one day, they’d be the evidence we’d need to take my dad and his friends down. I had to believe it was possible. What was the point in my life if it wasn’t to put a stop to the way they treated me and no doubt many others.

I slam my diary closed the second the lock disengages to my cell. It hasn’t passed me by that only one seems to be locked these days. I’m not sure how I feel about it.

I’m safe when I’m locked up down here. Victor, my father, or any of the others can’t get to me. But also, the thought of a nice, soft comfortable bed makes me want to cry. A nice hot bubble bath…

I’m expecting a sheepish-looking JD to poke his head around the corner, so when I look up to see the face of a man who seems to have been avoiding me since the incident in the shower, I have to give him a double take.

“So you are still alive,” I tease.

“You think anyone out there could take me down? I’m disappointed in you, Pet,” he counters.

All it takes is one sentence to tell me that something has changed.

Was it what he discovered when I maimed Jonno and then freaked the fuck out on him? Or what happened with Kane?

Honestly, it could be either. Or even both. But there is definitely a shift in the air.

“I brought you coffee,” he says, holding out the mug in his hand.

“Uh…”

“It’s not too hot. No poison.”

“Thank you,” I say, taking it from him as he sits his ass on the other end of my bed, keeping as much space between us as physically possible.

Still disgusted then. Good to know.

Trying to force down the lump that’s crawling up my throat and the hurt that’s wrapping around me like barbed wire, I take a sip of my coffee.

The rich, creamy goodness floods my mouth and I close my eyes for a beat to savor it.

“It pains me to admit it, but you have very good taste when it comes to food and drink,” I confess, without looking at him.

“I’m glad you appreciate it.”

“Who taught you to cook?” I ask, risking a personal question.

If it were JD sitting with me, he’d have no problem telling me the truth. But I’ve no idea how to take this usually terrifying man that I’m discovering all new things about.

“No one,” he says quietly.

“You just figured it out by yourself?”

“Pretty much. It was either that or the five of us would have lived on frozen pizza. Or starved.”

“Didn’t Hannah cook for you?” I ask. I know things were tenuous with the Harris kids and their stepmom growing up, but I wasn’t aware she neglected them.

“She burned everything she touched. Assuming she was home or sober enough to do anything.”

“Oh.”