Page 301 of Bitter’s Sweet
Sweet does not look away.
Neither do I.
Before I broke her trust, I would have crossed the distance because wanting her felt like enough reason.
Today I stay where I am.
Sweet says something to Mercy, hands her the books, and starts toward me.
Every instinct I own tells me to meet her halfway.
I don't.
She gets to decide the distance.
Sweet stops in front of me.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
Her eyes move over my cut, then my bike, then back to me.
“You riding in front?”
“Yeah.”
“Raven would complain.”
“He complained about everything.”
“I never met him.”
“You'd have liked him.”
“Would he have liked me?”
“Depends.”
Her brows lift. “On?”
“Whether you touched his fries.”
“That is a reasonable boundary.”
“Exactly.”
Her mouth curves, not quite a smile but enough to make my pulse jump.
The engines begin starting around us, one after another, deep vibrations rolling through the property.
Sweet looks toward Raven.
“You okay?”
The question catches me wrong. Not because nobody asks, but because she did.
After everything I did, some part of her still looked at my dead brother and wondered whether I was okay.
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