Shared Mercy Book 5 of the Guardians Saga

Ch. 3.2 Choosing

Gabe, Cale, and Alex shared breakfast. Cale cooked the sausage in the iron pan, fat spitting and the aroma intoxicating. It was strange to Alex to eat without Rile, who was still sleeping off the party.

"Alex, you must tell Rile to stop consorting with Drake," Gabe ordered.

"I can't," Alex said calmly.

"You can and must. Drake means nothing but evil. Tell him to choose between you and Drake."

  "I never made you choose between me and anything," Alex said.

Gabe blew out a frustrated breath. "Rile had his affairs, but Drake, well, he's into the prostitutes and worse. He's tried to drag Rile into it before."

"Prostitutes? Okay, I hate this Drake more now. But Rile shouldn't lose his old friends because of me," Alex said, but she looked down at her plate and fiddled with the sausage.

"You want him to lose this friend," Gabe said.

Alex crushed the sausage into tiny bits and refused to look up. "There is no way I can do what you ask without being a controlling shrew. Rile has to make his own choices. I can't fight for love anymore. Either it comes freely, by choice, or not at all. You taught me that."

They all fell silent as Rile emerged from the tent.

He shielded his eyes and rubbed his head. "What a night. I didn't used to feel the after-effects this much before."

"You did, you just don't remember," Gabe said, posture stiff.

"Come here." Alex patted her leg. "Put your head in my lap and let's see if I can help." She massaged his head with sparkling fingers. As she stroked his head, Alex could feel the essence of him flow across her fingers. With each slow and deliberate movement of his head in her lap, she could feel herself relax and let herself fall into the moment.

"This is great. I love you." Rile sighed.

"Are you sure you want to rub away the after-effects of drunkenness?" Gabe's tone was full of anger and old, old pain. "It's his only deterrent to over-indulgence."

"Jealous." Rile didn't bother to open his eyes.

  Alex shook her head.

Old times. Old wounds.

Gabe stalked off.

Rile was better, but still not himself the rest of the day. At dinner, Drake reappeared.

"I rounded up some old friends. It'll be a wild one, tonight, buddy."

Rile did not look at Alex this time, only trotted after Drake. She tried to ignore the ache that brought on, but Gabe's glowering made it hurt worse.

That night, Rile didn't stumble over Alex, although he did step on her foot.

"Curl up with us," she pleaded.

"No, I want you to come." Rile tugged on Alex. "I can't enjoy a great party without my favorite female at my side."

  "I'm sleepy."

  "You're always sleepy. Come on." Another tug, and this time Rile fell on her. "See, I need you."

"Don't go," Cale spoke because Gabe looked too furious.

"I might as well. It'll make Rile happy and he can see for himself that I don't fit in," Alex replied.

Or maybe I will, with the other prostitutes.

The black sky overhead had turned dark with the passing hours. The red orb of the moon hung low, casting shadows.

The group around the campfire was drunk. They poured booze down each other's throats, laughing while they did it, then wiping off their mouths with their hands. The campfire was now a low smoldering pile of logs, its fat bark cracking and lighting up with any new wood added.