“Who brought the groceries, Mercy?”
She’s not gonna answer.
She doesn’t need to answer. I already know who it was.
"I need some air," I mutter, and go back outside where the afternoon sun beats down like judgment. I cross the yard to the old oak tree that holds the remnants of a tire swing, then run my fingers over the bark, finding what I'm looking for about chest height. The carving I made when I was fifteen.
S + L
Only it no longer says that. Cause it’s been crossed out with deep gashes. Not weathered cuts, either. Recent ones.
"She was mad at you."
Mercy's voice startles me. She's standing a few feet away, BB gun held loose at her side.
I turn to face her. "Savannah did this?"
Mercy nods, then looks away. "You make her sad."
I made Savannah promise not to write me because it was over. Like, moved-on kind of over.
She moved, I moved on.
Except, we got this love that doesn’t quite know how to move on.
So fine. She was mad. I make her sad.
Now she’s engaged. Or will be as soon as that party happens. So… yeah.
Over.
"How often does she come?" I ask, keeping my voice neutral.
Mercy shifts her weight, looking less feral now that she's talking. "Twice a month, mostly." She picks at a scab on her elbow. "More after Destiny left."
"When did Destiny leave?"
"Two months ago." Mercy looks up at me, her eyes suddenly older than nine. "She's pregnant."
“Uh huh.” The Kane family curse: we break everything we touch, including ourselves.
I scrub a hand over my face, feeling three days of stubble and a lifetime of failure. I'm supposed to be the one who protects them. Some fucking job I've done.
I go back inside, head straight for the landline mounted on the kitchen wall, and punch in the number I've had memorized since I was eighteen.
It rings twice before a gruff voice answers. "Yeah?"
"It's Legion."
A pause, then: "Holy shit! Kane! Where the fuck are you, brother?"
Brotherhood. It’s the family you choose when blood fails you. And this man right here—Diesel, he’s never failed me. All ofa sudden, clarity hits and it comes in the form of background noise. Pool balls clacking, men laughing, music playing.
“I’m at home,” I say. For the first time today, I feel something like relief. “Got out a day early.”
I feel somethin’ like…belonging. These men—whatever else they are—they're my brothers. They'd kill for me. Die for me.
“Bring me my bike," I tell Diesel. And now, it’s time to feel the freedom. To really feel what it means to walk out of that cage I put myself in. "And hey,” I add, before Diesel ends the call. “Bring an extra helmet for my sister.”
