Page 67 of Making Choices

“’Preciate your help.”

I’m not sure if I mean it, just know it’s the right thing to say.

As I hold the door open for her, Bebe steps closer and splays her palm against my chest. With surgical precision, she calls me out. “I hope you mean that since this is putting me in a tough spot with my family.”

“Here’s the thing about tough spots,” I tell her with a rough laugh as her unapologetic statement rips me out of my jumbled thoughts. “I’m a fuckin’ expert at gettin’ in and outta them.”

“Then you’re just the man I need in my life.”

Once she’s out of earshot, I mutter to myself, “No one needs me.”

That one thought bounces around my head as I watch her jump into action. In minutes, Bebe has Cherub safely ensconced in her vehicle, and Venom and I are following her back to my house. It buoys my hopes until Venom gives into his dark side and rips the ground out from under mine and Cherub’s feet a couple hours later.

16

LILY

“Why am I bleeding like this?” I ask Bebe as she slips back into Slash’s guest room. The towel that someone jammed between my legs after I passed out is a bulky reminder that my body has been violated again. Screwing my good eye shut as tight as I can to block out the memory of Alex’s unwanted intrusion, I plead with her. “Just lay it out straight… I can take it. Did he damage me again?”

With my eyes closed, my hearing is heightened and I can hear the stress in her deep sigh. “It’s a combination of things.”

I gently press the ice pack to my swollen eye when a tear runs free. “Is it, though?”

Part of me already knows what she’s going to say before she says it. The truth has been percolating at the back of my mind since Alex slammed his fist into my stomach and the pain began. My father guessed correctly. So did Toker. Although it started to sink in while Bebe was stitching me up, I did my best to remain oblivious.

Because it was already too late.

Another day, another cruel hand of fate dealt by Alexander Kingsley.

He’s ruined me.

Again.

From the outside looking in, it’s not as bad this time. I finally stood up for myself and ended my nightmare, once and for all. I haven’t been rushed into surgery. I’m conscious. Apart from a possibly fractured eye socket, swollen nose, some busted ribs, and a very tender abdomen, my injuries are relatively superficial. It may take a couple months to recover, but it won’t take years like it did last time.

Except that’s only the physical aspect to my damage.

Mentally, I can already feel myself slipping back into the desolation that claimed me almost five years ago.

“Tell me,” I demand in a hoarse whisper as my raw throat constricts my vocal cords. The words bubble out of my mouth with sick repetition, “Tell me. Tell me. Tell me.”

Bebe climbs onto the bed and lays down next to me. Patting my upper arm, she waits until I open my eye and our gazes are locked to say, “I’m so sorry, sweetie, but you’re having a miscarriage.”

Pressure builds in my chest until I feel like I’m going to explode. I swallow it down. It boils faster, rising to flood my throat. I keep my lips pressed together, fighting the tsunami as my lips attempt to part to give voice to my grief. Fisting my fingers at my sides, I stare at Bebe. She keeps her attention focused on me, unblinking, without an ounce of pity in her gaze. Minutes tick past. I don’t blink. I don’t speak. I barely breathe. I goad her with my eyes to break first.

Eventually, a small smirk—because that’s what it is—lifts her top lip.

“I’m sorry, Lily,” Bebe offers in a murmur that oozes with sympathy. “I know that’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth.”

I don’t know if her use of Zeke’s nickname is intentional or not.

Either way, it’s the final straw.

The sorrow that’s been building bursts its banks.

My lips part.

The sound that comes out of me is inhumane.

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