Sooo...this is the final chapter and I sincerely want to say THANK YOU for your continued kind support. You guys are phenomenal. I hope this chapter...like all the other chapters...find you and yours in peace and happiness.
Hello and thank you Blake. I am doing pretty good, thanks. I understand completely, reading is a form of escapism for me, especially in these uncertain times. And it's a sure way for me to relax, feel refresh and be rejuvenated, to go about my daily life.
Much love to all of you.
Standard disclaimer: I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own Lucky in Love.
Life is like a box of chocolates...full of nuts.
Mercedes Jones sat in Biff's office, staring at the man himself, in disbelief.
"Wait..." she said, shaking her head. "...tell me that last part again. Sam tried to give you another donation, and you turned him down?"
"Yes," Biff said. "He's done enough for the HSC...and I mean that in the best possible way."
Mercedes swallowed hard.
It was true. He'd done a lot for her, too. And even as he was heading back to his life, he'd tried to make sure she'd be taken care of.
She wished he was still here...so she could smack him.
And then hug him.
"Wow! You've turned down money," she said. "You never turn down money."
"It's not always about the bottom line," Biff replied. He smiled briefly but warmly. "See, even an old dog can learn new tricks."
"But Shelby told me there was a donation."
"Yes. Another donation did come in. Mrs. Garland donated one hundred thousand dollars and..."
Mercedes' mouth dropped open and Biff held up a hand.
"...and, she wanted it to be clear, that everyone knows she was the donor. She said and I quote, 'I want it yelled from the rooftops that I was the one to save the HSC.' And there wasn't a trace of amusement on her surly face," he added.
Mercedes just stared.
It took her a few moments, but she found her voice.
"Mrs. Garland," she started. "The woman who hates all of us, especially me?"
"Yes," Biff said. "Although, I don't think she hates you, as much as she hates the rest of us. I believe Shelby told you, there's a special condition on her donation."
"Me."
"Yeah. Consider your new salary for the HSC a raise, since I don't have it in the budget to offer you one, for your RN position in the ER."
"But I quit."
"So un-quit. Take the knowledge that the HSC is now secure, and so is your job. So get out of my office and get back to work."
Mercedes thought about that for all of two seconds. Then said,
"Yes, sir." She got up and moved to the door.
"Oh, and Mercedes?"
She turned back.
"Yes."
"Don't ever quit again. My voice mail and e-mail box is overloaded, with just about everyone in town demanding I'd best not lose you. And your mother has been hounding my ass, since you walked out. Hell, even my mother is hounding me. Understand?"
For the first time since she'd woken alone that morning, Mercedes managed a smile.
"I understand."
One week later, Mercedes' life looked good...on paper.
She had her job back, the future of the HSC was secured, and the town was behind her.
What she didn't have...was Sam.
'Get used to it,' she told herself.
But on Saturday, she rolled out of bed with a decided lack of enthusiasm. She'd done as she'd wanted. She'd stepped out of her comfort zone. She'd been selfish and lived her life the way she wanted, and it'd been more exciting than she could have imagined.
But how did she go back to being herself?
'You don't,' she decided.
She'd put her heart on the line for the first time in her life, but she'd made the choice to do it.
'No regrets.'
That was the day she got a delivery...a plain padded envelope, the return address too blurry and smeared to make out.
She opened it up and a carefully wrapped package fell out.
Opening the tissue paper, she stared down at the beautiful charm bracelet, she'd coveted at the charity auction, all those weeks ago.
There was no note, but none was necessary. She knew who'd sent it...Sam, of course.
He'd understood her, as no other man ever had.
He got that she was vested in this town...maybe in the same way he'd yearned to be...that the bracelet meant something to her.
And he'd added a charm...a '68 Shelby.
She had no idea where he could have gotten it from, what it had cost him, or what it meant.
But she could hazard a guess.
It meant he cared about her...deeply. It meant she was on his mind, maybe even that he missed her.
And she missed him, too, so very much.
With her throat tight, she put the bracelet on, swallowed her tears, and bolstered her determination to continue stretching her wings.
Two weeks later, Sam was on a flight back to the U.S. after an assignment, that had involved escorting diplomats, to a Somalian peace treaty.
The team he'd been with were all well-trained, seasoned men, with the exception of one, who was fresh out of the military.
On the first night, there'd been a kidnapping attempt, but they'd shut it down with ease.
And there'd been no injuries on his team, unless he counted the newbie, who'd gotten so nervous when it was over, that he'd thrown up and needed an IV fluid replacement.
And he had done the honors.
"Sorry," the guy muttered to Sam that night, embarrassed, as he watched him pull the IV. "I lost it."
Sam shook his head.
"Happens."
"But not to you, right?" the guy asked.
In that moment, Sam's thoughts drifted back to his first mission, and on every assignment up to the plane crash.
He'd thrived on what he'd been doing. He'd believed in it with every fiber of his soul, and understood that he'd belonged out there, doing what he could to save lives.
After the crash, he hadn't just lost four friends, he'd also lost something of himself...his ability to connect and to get attached.
Until Lucky Harbor.
Until the nosy, pestering people of Lucky Harbor, who cared about everyone and everything in their path. Including him.
Until Mercedes.
'God, Mercedes.'
She'd been the last piece of his shattered soul, fitting back into place.
"Hell yeah, it happens to me," he replied to the newbie.
The guy looked surprised to hear Sam admit such a thing, but he nodded in appreciation.
"I can do this," he told Sam. "I'm ready for whatever comes our way."
But nothing did.
Sam and his team spent two entire weeks, doing nothing more, than cooling their heels in the African bush, where the most exciting thing to happen, was watching through the long-range scope of a rifle, as an elephant gave birth in the distance.
He had come back to this, because, he thought he'd needed the rush of the job to be happy.
So where in the holy hell was his happy?
He knew the answer to that.
It was thousands and thousands of miles away...with a woman who'd decimated the carefully constructed wall around his heart.
And that's when it hit him between the eyes...it wasn't the job that fueled him, that kept him sane.
It was Mercedes.
She was his team.
She and Lucky Harbor.
When he was there with her, she filled him up and made him whole.
Made him everything.
He was as slow as molasses, because, it was probably far too late for such realizations. He'd been a fool and walked away from the best thing to ever happen to him, and Mercedes Jones didn't suffer fools well.
He looked out the airplane window, as they finally circled D.C.
Normally, at this point, he'd be thinking about his priorities...sleeping for two days, fueling up on good food, and maybe finding a warm, willing woman.
He could get behind the sleep and the food, but there was only one woman he could think of...only one woman he wanted.
He'd left Lucky Harbor certain, this had been his future...the nomadic, dangerous work he'd given his life to.
And he'd told himself, it was the right thing to do, that he had to do this, to make his team's deaths mean something. Plus, he could never give Mercedes the kind of life she wanted.
That life just wasn't for him.
But he'd been wrong on all counts. He knew it now.
The guys' deaths, would always mean something. And his life meant something, too.
He'd probably always known that, but he hadn't had his head screwed on right for a long time.
But, boy did he have it on tight now.
Debriefing took far too long for Sam and Francine was waiting for him. The tall, stacked blonde, with the mile-long legs, looked so good in a power suit, she was her boss' sole weapon for recruiting.
Once upon a time, she'd recruited the hell out of Sam.
Now, there was nothing between them, but an odd mix of hostility and affection.
She looked him over from head to toe and then back again.
"You look like shit," she remarked.
"Aww, thanks."
She didn't offer him a smile, just another long gaze, giving nothing away.
"You're not staying," she guessed.
"I'm not staying," he replied. Then, tossed her his security pass and walked.
"Do you really think a place like Lucky Harbor has anything to offer you?" she called after him.
He knew it did. He had connections there...real ones.
"Dammit Sam!" she said to his back when he kept walking. "At some point, you have to stop running."
"That's exactly what I'm doing," he said and kept walking.
Sam caught a red-eye flight into Seattle, and as he landed, he brought up Lucky Harbor's Facebook page.
He'd resisted until now, but as the page loaded, he smiled at the latest note posted on the wall.
It read...
By now, you've all heard about Mrs. Garland's $100,000 donation to the HSC, and how she single-handedly saved the clinic, brought back our beloved Mercedes Jones, AND created peace on earth.
Okay, maybe not quite peace on earth, but we do worship the ground she walks on. (Did I get that right, Louisa?)
ANYWAY, last week's raffle, raised an additional $5000 for the hospital, thanks to our own Mercedes Jones for her tireless efforts. The grand prize...a date with Hospital Administrator Biff Langley...was won by Shelby Cochran, Director of Nurses. Rumor has it, that there was a good-night kiss. Wonder if Biff put out? Sources say yes he did. Well, I guess we can all look forward to a summer wedding...
Dawn hit the eastern sky, as Sam drove a rental car into Lucky Harbor.
He briefly wondered if Mercedes was still asleep in her bed, warm and soft.
And alone.
God, he hoped so.
It'd only been two weeks, but he'd left abruptly and cruelly. And really, he had no right to be back, no right at all to ask her to forgive him.
But that's exactly what he was going to do.
The ocean was still an inky purple as he drove passed the pier, then hit the brakes.
The Shelby was in the lot at the diner.
With his heart pounding, he parked and entered.
The place smelled like fresh paint. The floor looked new and yet seemed to be made of the same timeless linoleum, as it had been, before the sprinkler situation.
He found Santana, Quinn and Mercedes, seated at the counter, eating chocolate chip pancakes.
Or, they had been eating, until he entered.
Three forks went still in the air.
Quinn's and Santana's gazes slid to Mercedes, but she was paying them no attention whatsoever. She was staring at Sam, her fork halfway to her mouth.
Meanwhile, Sam had walked through fire fights with less nerves, but he took hope at the sight of the charm bracelet, glinting on her wrist.
"This is a private meeting," Quinn told him. "Locals only."
"Quinn," Mercedes said quietly, her eyes never leaving Sam.
And for once, she wasn't giving anything of herself away. And Sam had absolutely no idea what she was thinking, because, her face was carefully blank.
A lesson she'd probably learned from him.
As Mercedes continued to stare at Sam, she got light-headed, which happened, because she wasn't breathing.
"I thought you chocoholics met over cake," Sam said.
Two weeks.
It'd been two weeks since she'd seen last him, and he wanted to discuss cake.
But she hungrily drank in the sight of him.
He wore battered Levi's and a white button-down, looking as good as ever, although he'd lost some weight, and his eyes were guarded.
"We've been banned from cake," Quinn said. "On account of the candles."
Santana pointed at Sam with her fork.
"You planning on walking in and out of her life again?"
"Just in," he said, his gaze never leaving Mercedes. "We need to talk," he said to her.
"So talk," Quinn said, and Santana nodded.
With her heart pounding against her rib cage, Mercedes stood up and gave both of her friends a shake of her head.
"You know what he's asking...please give us a minute."
"Okay, but this is the third time he's interrupted us," Santana pointed out. "And..."
"Please," Mercedes said to her friends.
Santana looked at Sam, using her first two fingers to point at him, going back and forth between his eyes and hers, silently giving him notice, that she was watching him and not to even think about misbehaving.
Then, Quinn dragged her away.
And Mercedes waited until both were out of earshot to look at Sam...again. Her entire being went warm, as she drank him in some more.
She had no idea why he was back, but she hoped like hell, she was part of the reason.
"Are you still trying to save me, Mercedes?" Sam asked quietly.
"I can't seem to help myself," she said, her heart hammering so loud, she couldn't hear herself talk.
"I don't need saving."
And he didn't. He was strong and capable, and more than able to take care of himself.
"What do you need?" she asked.
"You," he simply said. "Only you."
"Aww," Quinn breathed softly from behind them. "Oh, that's good."
Both Mercedes and Sam turned, to find that, Santana and Quinn had scooted close enough to eavesdrop.
Quinn winced and held up an apologetic hand.
"Sorry. Continue."
Mercedes turned back to Sam, who took her hand, in his big, warm one and entwined their fingers, as he brought them up to his chest.
His heartbeat was a reassuring steady thump.
"I know you've looked for Mr. Right," he said. "And then Mr. Wrong. I was thinking maybe, you'd be interested in a Mr. Regular."
Her throat went tight.
"That'd be great," she managed. "But I don't see any regular guys standing in front of me."
The corner of his mouth tipped up and melted her, but she wasn't going to be distracted by his hotness right now.
"What about your job?" she asked.
"Well, I thought that was what drove me, and gave me what I needed. But I was wrong, Mercedes. It's you. You fulfill me, like no job or no person ever has. You make me whole."
There was a sniffle behind them. Actually, two sniffles. But Mercedes ignored them, even as she felt like sniffling herself.
"Won't you go crazy here?" she asked Sam.
"There's an opening in Seattle for a trauma flight paramedic. Also, I was thinking, I want to work with veterans at the HSC. I think I could help. And if I get bored and need some real action, there's always the arcade."
Mercedes was absorbing this, with what felt like a huge bucket of hope sitting on her chest.
"And me," she whispered. "I could show you some action. You know, once in awhile."
"Mercedes," Sam said, sounding raw and staggered and touched beyond words. "God, I was so stupid. And so slow. I didn't know what to do with you. I tried to keep my distance, but my world doesn't work without you in it."
She melted.
And given the twin sighs behind her, she wasn't the only one.
"But is a trauma paramedic job enough for you?" Mercedes asked.
"There's more important things to me, than an adrenaline rush. There's more important things than any job. But there's nothing more important than you," Sam said.
And then,
"Mercedes, I lo..."
"Wait!" Santana said, as she looked at Mercedes. "I'm sorry, but don't you think you should tell him about the car, before he finishes that sentence?"
"No!" Mercedes said, giving her the evil eye. She wanted the rest of Sam's sentence, dammit!
Sam frowned.
"What's wrong with the Shelby?" he asked.
"Nothing," Mercedes said, very quickly.
"Nothing," Santana agreed. "Except for the dinged door, where she parked too close to the mailbox."
"Oh my God!" Mercedes said to her. "What are you, the car police?"
"The classic car police," Santana said smugly.
"You parked the Shelby on the street?" an incredulous Sam asked Mercedes.
Her brows went up.
"Okay," he said, lifting his hands. "It's okay. Never mind about the car."
"I've got this one," Quinn said, wrapping an arm around Santana, and covering her mouth while she was at it. "Go on."
Mercedes turned back to Sam, who pulled her off her stool and touched the small scar on her cheek, before leaning in to kiss her.
"I love you, Mercedes," he said very quietly, and very seriously. "So damn much."
A sudden warmth and affection and need and so much more rushed her.
"I know," she replied.
"You know?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Well, hell!" he said with a small smile and a shake of his head. "You might have told me and saved me a lot of time."
"How about I tell you something else?" she said. "I love you, too."
At that, the rest of the wariness Sam had arrived with, drained from him.
"Tell me what you need from me for there to be an us," he said.
Hope blossomed, full and bright, right there and then.
"You want an us?" Mercedes asked.
"I want an us. Tell me, baby."
"I like what we had," she said. "Being together after a long day, maybe dinner out sometimes. That was nice. We could skip the orchestra, though."
"Mercedes," he said on a short laugh. "Tell me you want more from me than that."
She bit her lower lip, but the naughty grin escaped anyway.
"Well, maybe a little bit more."
Sam laughed softly, his eyes going dark instantly.
He pulled her in and kissed her hard, threading his hands in her hair.
"How do you feel about sealing the deal with a ring?" he murmured against her lips.
And all three women gasped.
"What?" Mercedes squeaked. "You mean an engagement ring? To be married?"
"Yes," Sam said. "You're it for me, baby. You're everything."
He was serious, she realized.
And suddenly, so was she.
"I'd like that," she said softly.
"Good," he said. "Anything else we need to work out?"
'Only a hundred things.'
Where was he going to live?
'With me,' she thought possessively.
She wanted him with her.
'Wait! Does that mean I'd have to learn to cook?'
Because that might be a stretch. And she didn't have any room in her closet to share.
And the cat.
What if Sweet Pea pooped in his boots?
Sam cupped Mercedes' pretty face and made her look at him, deep into his eyes, and it was there she found the truth.
All these worries were inconsequential. They didn't matter. Nothing mattered but this.
But him.
Besides, she had time to make room for him in her closet. And the cat had time to get used to him.
They had all the time they needed, because, he'd made it clear he was hers, and he was a man of his word.
"I've got all I need," she told him.
And he leaned down and kissed her again, then stroked a finger over her temple, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"I want you to know," he said. "That you're the best choice I ever made."
"No regrets?" she asked.
"No regrets."
Heart full to bursting, she tugged him down and kissed the man she was going to spend the rest of her life with.
That's it friends. Until the next update and the next new story, stay safe and stay blessed.