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Sweet doesn't.

Her eyes stay on mine.

Razor's arm is around her. A gun is in my hand.

This is not where I get to ask forgiveness. This is not where I tell her I love her and expect the words to magically repair every filthy thing I chose.

But Razor built this trap partly out of my lies.

I can at least stop handing him ammunition.

“I chose the club over your word.”

Razor's smile shifts.

He expected anger.

Not truth.

Sweet swallows.

I keep going. “I cheated because I got scared.”

Her face tightens. “I know.”

“Then I stood in front of everybody and lied because hurting you felt easier than admitting how much you mattered.”

Razor jerks her tighter. “Y'all finished?”

“No.”

Sweet looks at me.

For one second, everything else disappears.

“That doesn't fix anything.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

Razor laughs. “Damn. She really does hate you.”

“No,” Sweet says.

That gets his attention.

Mine too.

She looks straight ahead. “I don't hate him.”

Somehow that is worse.

Razor grins at me. “See? Still got a chance.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh, come on. Tell her the other part.”