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“Why are you thanking me?”
I reach across the table and place my hand over hers. “Because you read my letters despite how pissed you must have been at me.”
“I wasn’t pissed,” she mumbles.
“You weren’t?” My sassy girl has a temper.
She blows out a breath. “I was heartbroken.”
My heart hammers in my chest and I squeeze her hand. “I’m sorry. I’m such an idiot. You told me you loved me and I called you a bitch.”
She flinches at the word bitch.
“I promise never to call you a bitch again.” I inhale a deep breath and continue. “And I promise to never drink again.”
She scowls. “No.”
“No? You don’t want me to be sober? I’m confused.”
“Of course, I want you to stay sober. By the way, I’m proud of you for going to rehab and sticking with it.” She squeezes my hand. “Not everyone with a problem does.”
I tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry about your mom.”
She leans into my hand for comfort and a spark of hope fills me. She’s not pushing me away. She’s listening to me. Maybe she will give me a second chance.
“Why don’t you want me to promise to stay sober?”
She clears her throat. “I want you to promise to try your best to stay sober. I don’t want you to cave under the pressure of promising me to stay sober.”
I don’t hesitate. “I promise I will do my best to stay sober. I’ve found a local support group in White Bridge and one of their members already agreed to be my sponsor.”
She smiles and steals my breath away. I didn’t think I was ever going to see her smile again. At least not directed at me.
“I love you, sassy girl. Will you give me another chance to earn your trust?”
“I—”
“Mercy Keller,” a woman screams and pounds on the window. “I know you’re in there! I can see you! You can’t ignore me any longer!”
Mercy buries her face in her hands and groans.
“Who is it?” I ask but considering the woman is weaving as she tries to stay upright I think I can guess.
“My mom,” she says as she starts to stand.
I move to stop her. “No. You don’t deal with her anymore. I do.”
“You can’t fight my battles for me.”
“Watch me.”
I march to the front door. Mercy follows me but I don’t try to stop her again. My sassy girl doesn’t enjoy being bossed around unless we’re in the bedroom.
“Who are you?” Mercy’s mom asks when I fling the door open.
Mercy grunts behind me. “Mom, this is Gibson. Gibson, this is my mom, Estelle.”
I stand in front of Mercy to block her mother from seeing her. “You deal with me.”
