Page 66 of Making Choices

I don’t know if I can bear witness to her struggle to move past Alex’s brutality again.

Once was hard enough.

A second time seems impossible.

Over and over, I ponder the future.

Venom.

Cherub.

Another dose of pain they don’t deserve.

They fought hard to stay together last time. With me by their side, a welcome third wheel, a sounding board, the bridge that connected them. I wasn’t exaggerating when I told Fret that I’d kept them together four and a half years ago. Every time they floundered, I reminded them that they had each other. Whenever Cherub’s damage became too much for her to bear, I let her break in my arms, patched her up, and sent her back to Venom. In the darkest moments, when Venom confessed that he was scared she’d be better off without him, I refused to judge him. I listened. Argued with his demons. Made him see that his fears didn’t make them a lost cause.

I fought their nightmares with them.

Proved their doubts wrong.

It was the three of us against the world.

And we survived.

For four and a half years.

A happy couple.

Their best friend.

It worked.

Now, though, it feels impossible.

Because I don’t have to be the third wheel.

I could be the wedge.

So, as the headlights of Bebe’s car illuminate the driveway while she makes her way up the gravel drive to the house, I have a choice to make.

Do I listen to Fret and my brothers when they tell me I have no chance with Cherub or do I finally throw my hat in the ring?

Even as I ask myself the question, a voice in my head, one that sounds suspiciously like Cherub’s, tells me that I’m a good man. My heart screams at me to be selfish for once. My gut roils with confusion, caught between the man I think I am and the man I want to be.

Knees locked, mouth dry, ears filled with my pounding heartbeat, I wait for Bebe to climb the stairs. She stops in front of me, and I catch a glimpse of appreciation in her gaze before she locks her features down tight, and hits me with a cool, detached glare.

“Slash.”

“Doll.”

“Are you going to tell me why you needed me so urgently?”

Gesturing to the front door, I tell her, “It’s best if you see for yourself… just, tread carefully. Things are bad.”

“I’m the perfect woman to call when things get bad.” Out of left field, she tucks her hand into mine and squeezes. I stiffen, waiting for her to tear strips off me. “You look like you’re on the verge of collapsing.” The concern in her voice rattles me and I tilt my head to look down at her. “Jack’s angry I ditched him to help you.”

“That so?”

“It is.” Bebe leans into me, her words barely audible as she says, “I told him where to shove it because this isn’t about the marker for me. I’m here because you need me.”

---