Page 100 of A Surefire Love
“Did you guys know I used to have a brother?”
36
Blaze watched from the doorway as the last Rooted student hurried through the cold November night to hop into her mom’s car. Nearby, Nolan waved before getting in his truck. As both vehicles pulled away, she shut the door and surveyed the living room.
Since the church wasn’t usable, she’d decluttered her living room. Even with the paper plates and games scattered around, the place felt cleaner and calmer than normal. While Mercy sorted board game pieces into the appropriate boxes, Blaze collected napkins, plates, and plastic cups and tossed them in the kitchen trash. She hummed to herself as she closed chip bags until she heard the front door open.
Her chest constricted. As of yet, the doorbell cameras had recorded nothing suspicious, but what if Mercy was upset about her testimony again?
“Mercy?” She abandoned her work.
Her sister stood at the front door letting in a late November draft. Before Blaze could ask what she was doing, Anson stepped in.
Months ago, when they’d crossed paths at the park in the square, she’d assumed he’d never fall for a girl like her. Never look at her with this blend of gratitude and hope, like simply standing in her presence was an answer to prayer.
A soft smile lifted his mouth. “Hey.”
“Hi.” She wrapped her arms around herself and checked over the space again. She hadn’t vacuumed yet, but this was the best her house had looked in ages. The best her life had been. But her continued fears about Mercy reminded her of the one thing she didn’t have—a clear conscience.
“Is the rabbit around?” Anson lifted a bag of cilantro.
She opened her mouth but found herself speechless. He’d brought greens again?
“He’s hiding. People aren’t his thing.” Mercy bounced back to the coffee table and the games. “He can’t eat all of that at once because he already had his greens at lunch, but I can give himsomeof the cilantro.”
Blaze had never heard that teacher-like tone from Mercy before.
Lips twitching, Anson laid the bag on the table near her. “All right. As long as you tell him it’s from me.”
“Sure.” Mercy snickered and fit the lid on one of the games. “I’m almost done. Then I’ll go to my room, even though it’snota school night. Andthat’swhy I’m thankful for Thanksgiving.” She hammed it up like she was auditioning for a cheesy commercial.
Anson passed Mercy a playing card from the coffee table. “You missed one.”
“Oh. Weird.” She added it to the correct box.
When she leaned over to check for other strays, Anson plucked it back out of the pile and slid it toward her. “You missed one.”
“Where was it?” She snatched it up and put it on the stack.
Anson shrugged.
Blaze didn’t bother hiding her smile—her sister was too busy keeping up with Anson’s game to notice.
Mercy peered under the coffee table.
He got the card back out. As soon as Mercy straightened, he dropped it to the carpet. Pointing, he said, “You missed one.”
This time, Mercy eyed him leerily.
“I’ll get it for you.” He squatted, plucked the card from the floor, and extended it toward her. “Since I’m a nice guy.”
Giggling, she accepted it and placed it on the pile.
While she was turned, Anson tossed another card even Blaze hadn’t seen him palm. “You missed one.”
“You!” Mercy snatched the card from the carpet and returned to find yet another card on the seat she’d just vacated. She shook her recent finds at Anson in mock outrage. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I had nothing to do with that last one. I swear.” He lifted his hands.
