Page 287 of Property of Whiskey

“When I need to.”

Daddy’s expression changes. He studies him for another moment, then nods once. “That’ll have to do.”

I step onto the porch before I start having emotions in public.

Whiskey follows.

Daddy catches my arm gently before I reach the steps.

I turn.

Then he pulls me into a hug. Hard. It catches me so completely off guard that it takes half a second before I hug him back.

For one moment, I’m sixteen again. Mama’s gone and Daddy’s all I’ve got, and neither one of us knows how we’re supposed to keep going without her.

Then I remember I’m not sixteen anymore. Maybe that’s the thing both of us finally needed to understand.

“I love you,” he says into my hair.

“I love you too.”

“You call me tomorrow.”

“I will.”

“Before noon.”

“Don’t push it.”

He lets me go.

Whiskey is waiting beside the Harley, but he isn’t watching us. He’s turned toward the road, giving me privacy without making a show of it.

I climb onto the bike behind him and wrap my arms around his waist. He starts the engine. Before we pull away, I lean closer. “You did good.”

“Again?”

“Don’t get cocky.”

“Too late.”

“I mean it.”

His hand briefly covers mine where it rests against his stomach. “Yeah.”

We ride away beneath the porch light while Daddy stays there watching until we turn onto the road.

Halfway back to Whiskey’s, my thoughts catch on one thing he said.

Mercy House.

Not just Mercy.

A house.

A place.

Maybe.