Page 271
Not because she might leave.
Because the old me would have tried to make Tennessee part of the answer. Would have told her she belongs here, with me. Would have confused what I want with what she should choose.
I force my mouth shut.
Mercy notices.
“You ain't going to tell her to stay?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because if she stays, I need it to be because she wants the school, this weird-ass town, you lunatics, maybe me. Not because I put my hand on the back of her neck and call it destiny.”
Mercy stares.
“Who are you?”
“Still Bitter.”
“Disturbing.”
By the third morning, Sweet's mother's picture is sitting on the dresser in the guest room.
I know because Mercy tells me.
Sweet accepted the repair.
That is all.
I do not make it mean more. I do not ask whether she noticed I reinforced the broken corner. I do not tell her the crack still shows because I thought she might prefer honesty to perfection.
I let the frame be a frame.
Sweet passes me once that morning near the garage.
She does not stop.
But she looks at me.
Not through me.
At me.
That is enough too.
Turns out doing the right thing without getting credit is harder than I expected.
Probably why it counts.
Chapter Fifteen
Sweet
Razor has been dead for a few days.
I know this because Mercy told me in the same tone she uses to announce the coffee is finished brewing.
