Page 307 of Bitter’s Sweet

“Why?”

“Because you took my hand.”

Her eyes soften.

“That was all I gave you.”

“Exactly.”

For one second, I think she might cry.

Instead, she squeezes my fingers.

“You're making this very hard.”

“I can fuck it up if that helps.”

“Don't you dare.”

I smile, then lose it again because there is something I have been carrying since before Razor took her.

Something I refused to put on her while she was bruised, scared, trapped, and trying to decide whether this place belonged to her.

Now she is standing here because she wants to.

She chose Tennessee.

She chose the school.

She walked to me.

She took my hand.

That is enough freedom for the truth.

“Sweet.”

Something in my voice makes her still.

“I need to tell you something.”

Her fingers tense around mine.

“You look terrified.”

“I am.”

“That is encouraging.”

“Sadist.”

“Biker.”

I take a breath.

“I love you.”

Sweet goes completely still.