Mercy (Somerset University #3) - Ruby Vincent Page 0,13

Sunlight bathed him through the wall of windows, beating away shadows from the plush rug, leather sofa, bookshelves, and Ryder’s desk which held not one or two, but three computer monitors.

Hard to believe all of this will be Adam’s one day. I dropped a kiss on Adam’s crown and ruffled his curls. He promised to draw me a picture too, and Mom and I headed out.

The drive to campus was a short one from Shea Industries. Maverick was stretched out on a bench waiting for us. From my seat I saw the glistening sheen of sweat boasting his game of football. Brains, brawn, looks, and a thick, ropey body that barely fit on the bench. Maverick Beaumont was the full package. And that package was mine.

He kissed me through the window. “Mind if we swing by the house so I can shower?”

“Sure. Mom and I are still arguing over what we want to eat.”

“Thai,” she spoke up. “I’m craving coconut curry soup.”

“I had Thai a few days ago. If you want curry, let’s get Indian.”

“Maverick, you’re the tiebreaker,” said Mom.

He put his hands up. “Oh no. My place is never between my girl and my mother-in-law.”

“Coward.”

He laughed, leaning in to kiss me again. His lips brushed my cheek traveling to my ear. “Sawyer Burn joined the robotics team. He also followed me to the quad and announced he’s joining the intramural team too.”

My brows snapped together. “He did? Well, he does have a lot of catching up to do after missing a year and a half.”

“He said the same.”

“This is a good thing, right? If I’m getting close to Teagan, you can get close to Sawyer. He might tell the truth to a friend.”

“He’s been friendly. The guy talks nonstop and is happy to handle both sides of the conversation. He told me about his supposed time at home the entire way to football. If I’m lucky, he’ll talk himself into a contradiction and prove he wasn’t where he said he was.”

“What are you two whispering about?”

“Nothing, Mom. Just school stuff.”

Maverick ducked out and climbed in the back. I met his gaze in the rearview mirror. A silent agreement passed between us to pick this up later. My mom didn’t need to know that she sent me to another school plagued by twisted secrets.

MAVERICK

“Cyd, you work on the build while I get the bugs out of the code. The crane should have been operational two days ago.”

“Yes, sir, president, sir.”

I snorted. “Maverick works just fine.”

My vice president winked, snatched a tool off my station, and wandered over to the gears, wires, and metal on its way to becoming a first-place champion.

I liked Cydney—despite her declaring me her nemesis when we first met. I walked in as the son of Marcus Beaumont, and the advisor let me on the team without putting me through the initiation. Cydney pelted me with questions the first few weeks, testing my knowledge and growing more irritated/impressed when she couldn’t trip me up. I can’t say that she liked my being chosen for president over her, but we settled into an easy rhythm since the start of summer.

I sat down at my laptop, scrutinizing where we went wrong. A shadow fell over me.

“How long you been doing this?”

“Twelve seconds,” I replied without looking up.

Sawyer laughed. “I meant writing code. Working with computers.”

“Took apart my first one when I was five.”

Sawyer pulled up a chair. Not sure what part of my hunched shoulders and tapping fingers signaled that I was interested in company. They must have because he got comfortable.

A month into summer vacation and Sawyer was entrenched in my robotics team, football buddies, and, at times it felt like, my life. I saw him three times a week and extra if Cydney, Davis, and the other guys invited us out on weekends. The worst part was he wasn’t that bad of a guy.

He made everyone laugh. Offered to pay for lunch when we ran late. And he pulled his own weight on the team. If he wasn’t holding up the lie that made my friend and girlfriend look like nutcases, I’d like the guy.

I have to remember he’s the victim. Even if he doesn’t look, sound, or act like it.

“Makes sense when you have a dad like Marcus Beaumont. I mean, when your father names the company after you, it’s pretty clear what path he wants you to take.”

“It wasn’t like that,” I found myself saying, fingers still tip-tapping away. “My dad never put pressure on