Billy’s voice again. Always that same blunt edge.
And once you decide, nothing else matters.
Judah’s hand stilled briefly in her hair before continuing, slower.
Mercy’s breathing had evened out. Sleep, or something close to it. Her hand rested over his ribs, over the suffering Christ inked into his skin — fingers splayed like she was claiming that too.
He looked down at it.
At her.
At the quiet trust she hadn’t realized she’d given him. And he thought about what it would cost when it broke. The moment she understood what the cherry meant. What room she’d stood in. What he’d done.
What he’dbought.
His throat tightened, something unfamiliar scraping up the inside of it.
He imagined himself on his knees.
Not for absolution. Not for forgiveness.
Forher.
The image stayed there longer than it should have.
Might be the only honest prayer he’s said in years.
“Lord,” he thought, the word dry in his mouth, her hair warm against his skin, cicadas screaming outside like something restless and endless, “have mercy.”
The irony sat heavy, almost enough to make him laugh.
Almost.
He closed his eyes.
Outside, the bayou breathed — slow, patient, swallowing everything eventually.
He knew better than most what it did with the things it was given.
And still, he held her closer.
I woke up from a pressure in my bladder. It was 4 AM, I was in a house I didn’t know andI needed to pee.
The room was dark. The lamp had been turned off at some point. I didn't remember when. The curtains were still open on the west-facing windows and the moon was coming through them at an angle that lit a long pale rectangle across the floor and nothing else.
Judah was beside me. Warm, solid, breathing slow and even.
I lay still for a moment, just thinking about everything and nothing. The rum had burned off to a low hum behind my eyes that threatened to transform into a nasty headache come morning, and my body was sore in places I didn’t know could get sore. But right now, more than anything, I. Needed. To. Pee.
I eased out from under his arm — he'd had it across my waist — and sat up on the edge of the bed.
I felt the cool floor under my feet.
It was so very dark. I thought about turning on the light but I didn’t want to wake him.
There was an adjoining room — bathroom. Judah had gone into it, or I had imagined him going into it, I didn’t know anymore. But I was pretty certain there was a door here somewhere that led to a bathroom.
I turned toward where I thought I'd seen it and moved carefully, hand outstretched, touching the damask wallpaper and then the edge of a picture frame and then — wall. More wall. A corner.
