Hey guys! Guess who has an update from your favorite Author? Kesh wanted me to tell you all that she is sorry she hasn't been posing. She has been so busy with work it's taken a lot out of her. She has been adding to your favorite stories in her little free time, so don't fret. She will return. She misses you and appreciates you all.
It had been a few months since the party, and everything had changed. Sam had gotten a few messages from Quinn begging to meet with him, and he had to put her on the do-not-allow list in their apartment complex because she had shown up banging on his door. She demanded he return to her side and fight against Mercedes.
Her company was bankrupt, and they were currently being sued by the authors they had screwed over. Russell had taken to bashing Mercedes, stating she stole from them, but that didn't tread water, as everything he accused her of had been proven wrong, and now he was being sued by her for slander.
Sam heard Russell beg to settle out of court, but Mercedes wasn't going to let him off the hook like that. Once in court, she showed evidence of the videos she and Kitty had recorded in case she ever needed them and the threatening letters Russell sent her.
It took the jury all of five seconds to rule against Russell, and he was set to pay Mercedes an undisclosed amount, but Silas let it slip that it was all the Fabrays were worth and then some.
Sam was proud of her, and he gladly volunteered to tell the court, along with others, what had happened to him.
After all was said and done, Russell and Quinn got precisely what they deserved.
Now, Sam was preparing for his long-awaited book tour. He'd been scheduled to fly out with Santana, whose keen organizational skills had helped launch his career. His radio and TV interviews had gone off without a hitch, and everyone was awaiting this tour and his next book.
But as he sat alone on the private plane in the airport hangar, nervously glancing at his watch, he wondered where Santana was.
Just then, the heavy door of the jet swung open. Sam's heart skipped a beat when he saw Mercedes step in. Clad in a sleek lavender jumpsuit that complemented her fierce determination, her hair pulled into a stylish, messy bun, she looked every bit the force that had reinvented the publishing world.
For a moment, Sam sat frozen, his mind racing. Where is Santana? he thought.
Noticing his puzzled gaze, Mercedes approached with a calm, confident smile. "Sam, there was an emergency on one of the other tours," she explained, setting down her carry-on with measured precision. "Santana had to fly out first thing this morning. Since I set everything up for you, I'm taking over for now."
Sam's eyes widened as he tried to process the news. "Okay," he managed, his voice betraying a mixture of relief and apprehension. As happy as he was to see her, he hadn't been along with her in months. He pulled out his phone and quickly typed a message to Blaine and Silas.
Sam: Mercedes is here, and she's going on tour with me. Three months alone with her, and I don't want to screw up.
Within moments, his phone buzzed with replies.
Blaine: Then don't screw it up, man.
Silas: Make it count, Sam
The weight of their words made Sam swallow hard. He couldn't afford another misstep—not now, when everything was finally coming together.
Once they were settled on the private jet, the atmosphere was a mix of quiet anticipation and efficient hustle. Mercedes immediately sank into a plush seat by the window, her eyes scanning through her tablet's documents.
Sam watched her from across the cabin, noting the focused intensity in her gaze. The hum of the plane engines provided a steady backdrop as they prepared for takeoff.
After a few moments of silence, Mercedes cleared her throat, drawing Sam's attention back to her. "Sam, I'd like to go over the plan for the next few months," she began, her tone crisp and authoritative.
He leaned forward, eager to listen despite the storm of emotions swirling inside him. "Okay," he said quietly.
Mercedes tapped on her tablet, bringing up a detailed itinerary. "First, we're hitting the States. We'll start in Nashville since that's your hometown," she explained. From there, we'll cover 20 states—both major cities and hidden gems that appreciate authentic stories. We already did the initial interview, and the buzz around the book signings and readings is incredible."
Sam nodded slowly, the magnitude of the opportunity dawning on him. "And after the States?"
"After a few days of rest, we'll head to Europe," Mercedes continued, her eyes bright with excitement. "There's a surprisingly large interest there. The publisher reports that your work resonates with audiences across the continent—especially in countries where literary culture is booming."
The flight took off as Mercedes detailed every aspect of the plan. She explained the schedule and the media appearances and even touched on the logistics—venues already confirmed, promotional events lined up, and a strategic rebranding that would finally dissociate Sam from his past mishaps with Quinn.
Every word, every detail, was precise. It was the kind of plan that left no room for second chances—only a future that had to be seized.
For a moment, Sam's mind wandered back to the party that had shattered his illusions just months ago. He recalled the sting of watching Mercedes laughing with Zack outside her door, the heartbreak in her eyes as she had turned away from him.
He'd thought that moment was the end—when he'd truly lost her. Yet now, here she was, offering him another chance through the very tour that could define his career.
The duality of his emotions was overwhelming. His heart ached with regret, yet he couldn't deny the hope that Mercedes' presence had reignited within him. Her words were the blueprint for his redemption—a path out of the chaos of past mistakes.
When the in-flight announcement signaled that they would soon begin descent, Mercedes closed her tablet and looked at Sam. "I expect you to take this seriously, Sam. This tour isn't just about the books—it's about rebuilding your reputation, your future, and maybe even yourself. I'm here because I believe in your potential. Now, I need you to believe in it too."
Sam's throat tightened as he met her determined gaze. "I do, Mercedes. I truly do." He reached into his jacket, feeling the weight of his signed contract—a promise, a second chance—and for the first time in months, he felt ready.
As the plane descended toward Nashville, the city's lights glittered like scattered stars below, mirroring the possibilities that awaited him. At that moment, Sam realized that every hardship and misstep had led him here—to the brink of a new beginning. And if he was going to seize it, he had to do more than just chase his dreams; he had to fight for the one person who made them all worthwhile.
After the whirlwind of New York's bustling streets, Sam's family home, nestled on a sprawling apple farm in Nashville, felt like a refuge.
The estate was an idyllic mix of rustic charm and modern comfort. With six spacious bedrooms, a huge, well-appointed kitchen that had long been the heart of family gatherings, and a vast family room filled with vintage furniture and laughter echoes from years past, it was a place where time slowed down, and actual values were cherished.
As the town car pulled up the long, gravel drive bordered by orchards heavy with ripening apples, his heart swelled with both nostalgia and a bittersweet ache. The farm's weathered barn, red against the deep blue sky, and the winding paths lined with apple trees made it clear that this was more than just a home—it was where his story began.
Inside, the house was abuzz with quiet activity. His parents had prepared a warm welcome, their faces lighting up as Sam stepped through the door. The enormous kitchen, with its polished wooden countertops and gleaming appliances, was filled with the irresistible aroma of a home-cooked meal.
In the family room, soft chatter and laughter mingled with the gentle creaks of old floorboards, creating a comforting symphony of familial togetherness.
In a room adjacent to Sam's—a modest yet cozy space prepared especially for Mercedes—she found herself enveloped in an atmosphere that was both familiar and rejuvenating.
Mercedes had just intended to say hello and head towards the hotel. But somehow, Mary had her agreeing to stay, and now she was unpacking and canceling her reservation. The way they made her feel was weird. It had been her and JJ for so long that she forgot what having parents felt like.
She smiled as she walked around the room, which was decorated in calming hues of soft blues and creams with accents of rustic wood. It was a perfect reflection of the home's spirit.
Its large window offered a view of the rolling orchards, and the gentle hum of the farmhouse at dusk set a soothing tone. She sat before it, feeling emotions she didn't think she could.
Mercedes had come to Nashville to work; she wanted to make sure Sam's career took off. But now as she sat on the window bench, looking out to the beauty of nature, she stared to reconnect to a more authentic version of herself.
She had always lived in the city, and it was always fast-paced, but this was different. Time moved differently, and she had no idea how. The serene, heartfelt warmth of an apple farm was jarring at first, but now, after a few hours, she was beginning to appreciate the grounded simplicity of it all.
As she drifted off into her mind, she could hear soft conversations and occasional laughter drifting from Sam's room, which made her hate how it made her feel.
Later that afternoon, Sam and Mercedes crossed paths in the corridor connecting their rooms. The hallway was bathed in the warm glow of vintage sconces, and the rustic charm of the farmhouse softened the edges of their recent struggles.
"Hey," Sam greeted hesitantly, his voice carrying a mix of uncertainty and hope.
Mercedes offered a small, tentative smile. "Hi, Sam."
For a brief moment, the quiet of the farm enveloped them. The tension of past mistakes, the pain of lost chances, seemed to fade into the gentle whisper of the wind outside and the rustle of leaves in the apple orchard.
"How are you?" Sam asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"I am okay. Just getting settled."
Sam nodded. "Thanks for staying. It made my mom's day. She is so glad to have you here."
"I like being here. Your parents are great. And I know they miss you and Si." Mercees nodded.
Sam stared down at her for a moment before moving towards her. "So, um, I was wondering if you wanted to tour the Orchard tomorrow?"
"Oh, well, I, uh, gotta get things together. Your first event is in three days."
"Sam nodded. "Merce, I just… it's just a walk. It may help you connect me to the tour. Isn't that what we are doing here?"
Mercedes nodded. He was right, and she wanted to see the land. "Okay, I guess we can go for a walk."
Sam smiled. "Awesome. Okay, Ima go." He didn't want to screw this up, and he knew, somehow, he could.
Mercedes watched him walk away, unsure how he convinced her to this walk.
As evening fell, the house came alive with the warmth of family and the promise of new beginnings. The kitchen—always the heart of the Evans home—was a whirlwind of movement as Mary and Dwight kicked Mercedes out and worked side by side, preparing a meal that was as much a celebration as it was a long-overdue reunion.
The scent of freshly baked cornbread and slow-roasted brisket filled the air, mingling with the sweet aroma of apple pie cooling on the counter. Laughter echoed as Stacey and Stevie, who had arrived an hour earlier, swapped stories about school and work. Even Silas was present—at least in spirit—his face beaming through a video chat window on the kitchen island.
"I swear, y'all waited for me to leave to have a good time," Silas teased, shaking his head. "Y'all got my two favorite things in one place—home-cooked food and Mercedes."
Mercedes laughed as she finished setting the table. "What can I say? We aim to please."
"I should be there eating instead of working," he grumbled.
"Well, whose fault is that?" Stacey shot back. "You were the one who chose to be an in-demand photographer."
Silas smirked. "Yeah, yeah. You miss me."
"Sure," Stacey said, rolling her eyes before grabbing a breadbasket to place on the table.
The family room was already full, the soft glow of lanterns casting flickering shadows across the walls. Old records played in the background, and the comforting hum of conversation made the house feel even more alive.
As everyone took their seats at the long wooden table, Sam found himself next to Mercedes. Their close proximity made his chest tighten—not in discomfort but in the undeniable weight of things left unsaid.
"So, Sam," Dwight began, reaching for the mashed potatoes, "how does it feel to be home?"
Sam glanced around the table, taking in the familiar faces, the easy laughter, and the way everything felt exactly the same yet completely different. His gaze lingered on Mercedes before he finally spoke.
"It feels…right," he admitted. "Like I needed to be here."
Mary patted his hand, her eyes full of motherly warmth. "That's because you did. This is where you come back to find yourself."
Mercedes swallowed a bite of food before speaking. "And now he's bringing home a best-selling book," she added with a proud smile. "Your boy is making waves."
Sam chuckled, his ears tinged pink. "Well, let's not jinx it."
"Nonsense," Stevie said through a mouthful of food. "Everyone's talking about it, I am famous in school because I am your brother. You're gonna kill it."
"I appreciate that," Sam replied, his voice quieter. His fingers brushed against his fork as he snuck another glance at Mercedes.
She met his gaze and held it for just a second too long.
The air between them felt heavier, filled with things neither of them dared to say aloud in a room full of people.
Regret, longing, and the ache of possibilities that once seemed so distant but now felt within reach.
Dinner continued with stories and laughter, but Sam was only half-listening. Every now and then, Mercedes would laugh at something Stacey said, her smile lighting up the room in a way that made Sam's heart twist. She was comfortable here, at home, in a place that wasn't even hers.
After the plates were emptied and the meal was winding down, Mercedes started stacking dishes to take to the kitchen.
"I got it," Sam said, reaching for the plates in front of her.
Mercedes arched an eyebrow. "You? Helping with dishes?"
Sam scoffed. "I'm not completely useless."
"Debatable," Stevie muttered, earning a flick on the back of the head from Stacey.
Sam smirked but stayed focused on Mercedes as he followed her into the kitchen. They worked in comfortable silence for a few moments, rinsing plates and placing them in the dishwasher.
Then, as Mercedes wiped her hands on a dish towel, she turned to him and said softly, "I'm glad I decided to stay."
Sam's chest tightened. He wasn't sure if she meant Nashville, his family home, or just here, next to her, but he nodded.
"I'm glad you stayed, too. I really am trying to be better," he admitted, his voice raw. "I mean it."
Mercedes studied him for a long moment before offering a small nod. "Good."
The sounds of his family still laughing in the other room, the scent of apple pie lingering in the air, and the quiet space between them all felt like something precious.
Sam wanted to reach out, say something more, and tell her that this felt perfect; it felt like they belonged together. But before he could, Dwight called for Mercedes to come back to the table, and the moment was gone.
As the night deepened and the stars shone brightly over the orchard, Sam watched Mercedes move easily among his family, fitting in like she had always been there. And he knew then, with a certainty he hadn't felt in a long time, that if he wanted a future that felt like home, he had to find a way to make things right.
Because sometimes, redemption and new beginnings grow best where you feel most at home.
And for Sam, that home was starting to feel a lot like Mercedes Jones.