Page 48 of Making Choices

Venom pushes me away and sits back on his haunches. He presses his fingertips to his chest, right over his heart. “I’m fuckin’ broken without her.”

Again, I tell him the truth he doesn’t want to hear. “We both are.”

In silence, we stare at each other. I don’t know what’s going through his head as he watches me with an odd mixture of calculation and acceptance, and I’m left even more confused when he breaks the quiet with a statement right out of left field. “You and the doc better make it work, ’cause the alternative is carnage.”

Before I can respond to his weird comment, Brutus comes barrelling outside. He stomps over to Venom and tosses something to the ground in front of him. “Little Cherub said you can have that back. She also told me to tell you that she’ll be outta your room within the fuckin’ hour. I’m gonna look after her from now on… it’s best you keep your nose outta her life.”

He doesn’t wait for either of us to acknowledge his declaration. Instead, the big man we once held up on a pedestal turns on his heel and storms back inside the clubhouse. He starts bellowing orders. Yelling for a beer. Demanding his phone. Monopolising the attention of the Shamrocks still stuck on lockdown.

“Go to her,” I tell Venom. Picking up the ring that Brutus threw on the ground, I drop it into his palm. “I’ll keep a look out so no one sees you together.”

“I’ve fucked everythin’ up. She won’t want to see me.”

“Cherub’ll always want to see you.” Pushing his hair out of his eyes, I cup him by the nape and pull him forward so his forehead is touching mine. “As long as you keep showin’ up, brother, she’ll want to see you.”

“Hope you’re right.”

“I am.”

There’s a strange feeling in the pit of my gut as I follow him into the sleeping quarters and watch him slip into the room he shares with Cherub. It’s a fusion of love and loathing. An odd kind of affection that drives me to distraction coupled with a level of spite that once seemed unreasonable. In truth, I envy everything he possesses. The respect of our brothers. The future he has with Cherub. His ability to truly engage his brutality without remorse. His unconditional drive to own his woman, to protect her even from himself, to satisfy his pride despite the ramifications.

I love Venom to death.

I love Cherub even more.

Part of me also hates them both for not loving me as much as they love each other.

12

LILY

Four days later

“Come on, dad! Be fair.” If I thought it would help, I’d stamp my foot to get his attention. “Fret’s awake and he’s asking for me, and quite frankly, it’s ridiculous that you feel like now isn’t the time to go and see him. He almost died for me.”

Finally, my father looks up from his newspaper. His blue eyes, the exact same colour as mine and Sander’s, are momentarily clouded with confusion. I’m on the cusp of asking him if he’s okay when his gaze clears and he asks, “The boy’s awake?”

“Didn’t you hear a word I just said?” Stacking our cereal bowls on top of each other and adding the two coffee mugs we’ve just drained to the teetering pile, I carry the breakfast dishes over to the sink. As I’m packing the dishwasher, I explain, “Nadia texted me twenty minutes ago. She said he’s awake and he wants to see me. When I asked you to take me, you shook your head and mumbled something about bad timing.”

“I did?”

I wring out the dish cloth and stomp back to the dining table. Angrily wiping up our mess, I tell him, “Yes. You did. But now that I have your full attention, I’m hoping you’ll change your mind.”

“Of course,” he replies without hesitation. “He’ll want to see us both.”

With all that’s happening with the club, I doubt Fret’s going to be happy to see our father. One of the brothers working with Zeke and Slash would have filled him in on everything he’s missed, and Fret will be ropable. Even so, I keep my mouth shut and allow Dad to labour under the illusion that I’m still the little girl who thought he hung the sun and not a grown woman who constantly battles the urge to stab him for working with Joseph Kingsley. My part in the plan is simple. Lull my father into a false sense of security by pretending I need him.

It might make me want to barf, but it’s better than having Zeke in his sights.

Speaking of barfing, I slap my hand over my mouth and run out of the kitchen. I make it to the toilet just in time to drop to my knees and throw up my breakfast. Dry retching once my stomach is empty, beads of sweat dampen my forehead, and I battle through a bout of dizziness.

For the last day and a bit, almost everything I’ve eaten has come back up.

Hopefully it’s just a forty-eight-hour bug that’ll pass soon.

The last thing I need is to get sick in the middle of this mess.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d wonder if you were pregnant.” Dad’s casual mention of my fertility issues makes my heart hurt. I use the tea towel I’m still clutching in my hand to wipe my mouth, blinking back tears when he continues with a grimace. “Your mother battled severe nausea with you and Lysander, then again with Wyatt, then Nathaniel. Strangely, she breezed through her pregnancy with Fret.”

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