Have Mercy

  Have Mercy

  Christina Lee

  Copyright © 2020 by Christina Lee

  All rights reserved.

  Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without prior written permission by the author(s), except where permitted by law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All products and/or brand names mentioned are registered trademarks of their respective holders/companies.

  Published by Christina Lee in the United States of America

  Cover Design: Black Jazz Design

  Cover Photography: Eric David Battershell

  Professional Beta Read provided by Abbie Nicole

  Edited by Keren Reed

  Proofreading provided by Lyrical Lines

  Final proofing pass by Lori Parks from LesCourt Author Services

  *Additional thanks to Kelley and Erin and others who helped me understand horses, farming, and deployment better. I tried my best to be as accurate as possible, taking liberties where fiction would allow. Any mistakes are my own.

  *I am also grateful for my thirteen years as a mental health therapist. It proved invaluable in the writing of this book.

  Blurb

  Julian North

  My whole world changed with one roadside bomb and an honorable discharge. Not even the city I used to love can ease the restlessness inside me. I don’t expect visiting my cousin Sienna’s farm to do the trick either, but the change of scenery can’t hurt. Wyoming isn’t what I expected—from the mischievous pig following me around, to the rescue horse I’ve become strangely fascinated with. And then there’s Kerry, the handsome, brooding cowboy, who somehow calms the storm inside me—and just happens to be Sienna’s ex-husband.

  Kerry Carmichael

  I’ve had a rough go of it since I came out—disappointing my family, the divorce, and the blow of my daughter’s illness. Things are settling down now, my kiddo is healthy, and Sienna and I are finally on solid ground. Not everyone accepts me, but I’ve owned my truth, even if I spend my life solo. Only, now that Julian’s here, I’m not so lonesome anymore. He’s a kindred spirit. First as someone to talk to, then as…more. The first time I hold him through one of his nightmares, I feel a rightness I never expected to find.

  We know this’ll end with the summer, but with every stolen kiss against the stable walls, with every tender or heated moment, I fall deeper. The reality is, I can’t risk my family or the business by going public with him. I know this can never last and that Julian doesn’t belong here. So why does it feel like he already does?

  Contents

  1. Julian

  2. Kerry

  3. Julian

  4. Kerry

  5. Julian

  6. Kerry

  7. Julian

  8. Kerry

  9. Julian

  10. Kerry

  11. Julian

  12. Kerry

  13. Julian

  14. Kerry

  15. Julian

  16. Kerry

  17. Julian

  18. Kerry

  19. Julian

  20. Kerry

  21. Julian

  22. Kerry

  23. Julian

  24. Kerry

  25. Julian

  26. Kerry

  27. Julian

  28. Kerry

  29. Julian

  30. Kerry

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  About the Author

  Other Books by Christina Lee

  Interested in Similar Settings to Have Mercy?

  You Might Also Enjoy My Last Standalone

  1

  Julian

  “Wyoming might do you good,” Mom said as soon as she ended the call with Aunt Maggie.

  I rolled my eyes. “Said no one ever.”

  The sisters talked nearly every day, and Aunt Maggie was hoping I’d head Northwest for the summer to help my cousin Sienna with a construction project.

  I stared out the apartment window at the busy Manhattan street below. There was a time I’d enjoyed city life, and I loved growing up in Queens and hanging out with my dad’s relatives in Long Island during the summer months.

  But then I did two tours of duty in Afghanistan and nearly lost my life when a roadside bomb exploded. I had the scars to prove it, along with some residual ringing in my ears and the general skittishness that apparently inflicted many of those discharged—honorably or not.

  Mom had been great about taking me in and letting me stay at her Upper West Side apartment, but I’d spent the better part of the last year struggling to find my way.

  Mom was a successful real estate agent, and since I knew a thing or two about construction, she’d kept me busy with requests from her clients while I collected disability compensation and kept up with my visits to the VA hospital.

  But it wasn’t enough to keep the demons at bay.

  “Just think about it,” Mom said. “You can help wherever they need you, but Sienna really wants your opinion on refurbishing an abandoned silo for a possible country store.”

  A silo? As a kid, I always found those cylindrical structures intriguing, so my interest was definitely piqued, but not enough to travel across the country, at least I didn’t think so. I’d learned how to flip houses from the best—my dad, who had passed suddenly from a heart attack when I was nineteen. He and Mom had run a successful business for years, and my sister and I had helped in one way or another since we were kids. His death was the catalyst for my joining the military, to honor him, since he was a vet too, and I had served proudly for five years.

  Mom added, “Sienna thinks it might help their business, and Kerry certainly agrees.”

  Not that hearing my cousin’s ex-husband’s name would sway me. I didn’t feel particularly fond of the man. He’d hurt Sienna—he’d come out of the closet about three years ago and they divorced—and my aunt had been distraught about her daughter’s split from her high school sweetheart.

  They apparently still lived together on Firefly Farm for the sake of their daughter. Mom had to console Aunt Maggie too many times to count, so I supposed that influenced my building some walls against the man too. Except, on more than one occasion I’d wondered how hard it must’ve been to admit your sexuality in not only such a conservative family—at least that was my impression of the Carmichaels—but the ranching industry as well.

  The sound of a jackhammer somewhere off in the distance filled my ears, and I bristled, bracing my palm against the window ledge. Gooseflesh lined my skin as memories washed over me. Gunfire, shouting, taking cover until the threat had passed. Fuck, would the constant state of alertness ever go away?

  Mom patted the seat beside her, snapping me out of the memory before it became too vivid. “Come sit while I pull up photos from their property. You’ll see how different it looks from the Carmichael Ranch.”

  The story Mom had told me was that just as Sienna and Kerry were getting their dairy farm up and running, on land that bordered the Carmichael Ranch, Kerry had come out as gay. You could imagine how well that went over. Then, in the middle of their divorce, their daughter, Ainsley, was diagnosed with leukemia, so it only added to the tension in the family, which already sounded like a pressure-cooker situation.

  “Fine.” I sighed, knowing she wouldn’t drop the subject until we’d properly talked it through. Mom was nothing if not convincing. Besides, I was curious how my cousin was getting along. We kept in touch through social-
media updates and messenger conversations here and there, but it’d been a few years since we’d had a heart-to-heart.

  I sat down beside her as she clicked through the photos. Wyoming was beautiful as always, if…remote. I had only visited a handful of times over the years, and that was before my dad passed away. Mom and Aunt Maggie grew up near Jackson Hole, in the small town of Cottonwood Creek. Whereas Aunt Maggie had stayed and started a family, Mom went to NYU for college, met my dad, and never looked back.

  The most recent times I’d visited my cousin Sienna, she was living with her husband, Kerry, on the Carmichael Ranch, where he was raised with his cowboy brothers, riding horses and rounding up cattle. Being there in my teens was one of the first instances I’d realized I was bisexual. All that flannel on display over muscled forearms, hard thighs in tight jeans, and hair curled beneath cowboy hats… Holy hot damn.

  “Here are the silos side by side,” Mom pointed out. I focused on the photo of two cylindrical buildings standing tall and stark against the backdrop of a blue sky and acres of land. “One will still be used to store feed, but the other is empty.”

  I stared harder, wondering what in the hell Sienna was thinking, building inside such a strange structure, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit the challenge appealed to me. It reminded me of the trickier projects Dad and I would tackle together. The work was definitely gratifying, as was connecting with him, doing something he loved. Before I allowed that grief to settle inside me again, I thrust it from my thoughts.

  “So you’ll consider it?” Mom asked, and I nodded, thankful she hadn’t said out loud the other thing she was undoubtedly thinking. I know what a tough time you’re having readjusting to civilian life. Your father did too.

  If only he were around to talk to about it. How strange to resume a life that felt as foreign as the land you’d just spent years occupying.

  My eyes snagged on a picture of Kerry Carmichael—tall, rugged, handsome—and I tried to imagine being raised on the ranch with all that testosterone and a more conventional world-view. It was easy to be pissed at his confession—and protective of Sienna for what she’d gone through—but it also showed how committed both of them had been to the family they’d built. And now I wondered for the first time if guilt was one of the reasons Kerry had stayed.

  Mom nudged my shoulder. “Maybe Kerry could use a confidant.” She’d said as much in the past while they were going through the divorce. Your cousin might be hurting. How hard would it be to come out in Wyoming on a ranch? He needs support too.

  I’d come out to my mom after my father died, during an emotional moment between us. It was no big deal to her or my sister, Caitlin, maybe because I never really had any girlfriends in high school either, just hookups with girls at parties and a crush I couldn’t easily explain away on the captain of the debate team, who was cute and brainy.

  But I’d kept my preferences under wraps in the military, even though I’d had my share of experiences with interested men in one way or another. All it took was one dumbass deep throat banana competition to pass the time during long nights, and it was easy to see who might be willing.

  “And maybe you could use one too.” Mom had always said my sexuality was my own to share, but in this situation, she was obviously talking about more.

  Thankfully, Mom got a work call before I could respond, but it prompted me to reach out to some of my service buddies on leave, and that ended up being exactly what I needed. It was comforting, in a way, knowing you weren’t the only one feeling out of sorts, but I didn’t share everything—like the awful dreams or intense thoughts that still plagued me almost a year after the incident. Seeing the men from your squad, whom you’d come to know pretty intimately, get blown to smithereens wasn’t something easily put into words.

  A new text came from Caitlin while I was finishing up an email with a buddy still on deployment.

  Mom told me about Wyoming. What do you think?

  Don’t really know. You got an opinion?

  She always had an opinion. She lived in Brooklyn with her fiancé, Tim, who would agree that she had something to say about everything.

  I think it’ll do you good. Plus, you can check out some hot cowboys. Or cowgirls.

  I laughed and shook my head even though she couldn’t see me.

  You’re ridiculous.

  Go for the summer, then come back all fresh for my wedding. Can’t do it without you, Jules.

  I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

  It was an idea with an end date. But what if I hated it after only being there a couple of weeks? I didn’t want to disappoint my family.

  Mom had dinner plans, so after eating leftovers and watching the end of a movie, I cut the lights and tried going to sleep despite the city buzzing outside my window. When I first arrived, it took me a couple of solid weeks to actually shut my eyes and get some sleep because it was too much and I was hyperaware of every sound.

  Our nights had been quieter in the desert, though any noise could alert us to danger, so the vigilance never went away. I had also gotten used to looking at the night sky above the mountains. In the city, there was nothing but skyscrapers and blaring car horns, and I wondered where that kid had disappeared to, the one who’d thrived on the perpetuity of it all.

  He was still inside me somewhere because I possessed the same restlessness, the same urge to keep moving. It’d helped propel me beyond the constant grief over Dad’s death, which was eating me alive until I decided to join the military. Training had kicked my ass, and I had little time for wallowing in my thoughts after that.

  Since my return, being alone with my thoughts had been brutal, so in a way, the city provided that noise for me. Yet, it drove me crazy at the same time. It all felt wrong, like my bones were too big for my skin, and not only because of my injuries, which felt too fresh some days. I just didn’t know how to reconcile all the conflicting emotions. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

  The social worker at the VA said it happened to plenty of soldiers, to some more severely than to others, along with what she’d identified as PTSD—something I’d long suspected, but it was validating to finally have that diagnosis. I had attended several group-therapy sessions with other soldiers, some who seemed haunted, and they only left me feeling fragile and humbled. And the way Mom would look at me after—this hopeful glint in her eye, like maybe I’d finally found my peace—was unsettling. But I couldn’t blame her. She only wanted what was best for me.

  I eventually succumbed to sleep…and awoke in a cold sweat right before dawn. Another nightmare. The scene played out before me in slow motion, just like the other times. Two guys from my squad, Smithy and Miller Time, were standing on the side of the road with a boy from the village, his ebony hair gleaming from the sun beating down on us. They were laughing, all solid humans with the same blood, and bones, and hearts, and the next second they were lying in unrecognizable pieces. I tried screaming in horror, but the sound got caught in my throat. As the shrapnel from the blast pelted my body, I took cover by jumping in a ditch, fucking up my knee in the process. The noise was muted, like I was underwater, then came roaring back. Yelling, crying, a mother’s wailing. I was transported by the med copter after losing a lot of blood from my injuries. I lost consciousness for a time, only to wake up in a military hospital with other patients who had experienced much worse.

  Fuck, the guilt of that was palpable. And the sounds at night, the silent sobbing and moaning, were enough to put me in a straightjacket. Being discharged had felt like the best thing at the time. Until the reality of civilian life began settling in.

  I sat up, trying to get my bearings as my heart drummed a frantic beat in my chest, and it took me entirely too long to return to my senses. But that same restless energy inside me propelled me out of bed and into my sneakers. I slipped silently out the door and onto the quiet streets. Dawn had become my favorite time, when the sidewalks were empty, the sounds of the city blotted out. The buildings were l
ined up like toy soldiers in formation, and the sun was just beginning to gleam off the Hudson River.

  The early morning walks had replaced the endless nights I sat on a stool at the end of a bar, hoping to drink myself into numbing oblivion. My body thanked me for the exercise, even if my knee was positively aching by the time I got back home with a bag of bagels from the corner shop.

  As the morning sun greeted me, I settled on the idea that maybe a quieter place would do me good. At least for the summer.

  2

  Kerry

  “Your cousin Julian who’s been on deployment the last few years?” I asked Sienna, turning off the suction device. Maisy kicked back her leg, and I grabbed the bucket before it tipped over, even though it only contained residual liquid from earlier when I’d tried to hand-milk her, hoping to ease her over to the machine, which was way more efficient.

  “One and the same.” Sienna handed me the teat cream, then offered Maisy an apple slice, which seemed to satisfy her.

  Maisy wasn’t normally ornery this early, but I could tell she was in a mood when I first entered the stall. After fastening the halter and tying the lead, I got under her for a look and immediately spotted the problem. One of her udders looked swollen, so I gently cleaned it with an iodine solution, soothing her. At least momentarily.