Page 70 of Making Choices

She shakes her head. “You’re a liar.”

“I’m not—”

“You are,” Bebe tells me. She smirks, and it’s the closest to evil I’ve ever seen on another person’s face. “But you’ll be back for more of what I just gave you because you’re too weak to take what you really want.”

This conversation has knocked the wind out of my sails. I’m adrift. Floundering to find solid ground in the face of her unexpected attack. We’ve fucked twice. She’s never seen me interact with Cherub before tonight. Where does she get off making blanket statements—no matter how accurate—about me or the state of my heart.

How does she know?

I clasp my hands behind my back and try my hardest not to yell at the infuriating woman standing in front of me. “Thank you for your help with Cherub. We all really appreciate it, but we can look after her from here on out. Consider your marker fulfilled.”

“I left some menstrual pads and more pain relief on the side table for her.” Bebe’s smirk widens into a full-blown grin that doesn’t match the order she gives me next, “Make sure you help her clean up tonight if she’s up to it.”

“I will.”

Bebe nods, suddenly business-like, and I’m left with a strange sense of déjà vu. “Anna can have more pain relief in two hours. If it doesn’t work, call me and I’ll come back with something stronger.”

“That won’t—”

The crazy bitch talks over me. “Otherwise, I’ll be back in the morning to check on her.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“You think you have everything sorted, but we both know you’ll break again,” Bebe tells me in a tone similar to the one she’d use to comment on the weather. That’s when it hits me. She’s acting exactly like her boss, Jack. Almost sociopathic in her ability to change moods on a whim. When she tries to step into my space, I back away. “And when you do, I’d like to be close enough to reap the rewards.”

“You’re sick.”

“I’m persistent,” Bebe retorts with a chuckle.

With disbelieving eyes, I watch as she struts her way out of my home. The front door closes softly behind her, the sharp snick enough to break me out of my daze. I rub at the scratches she left on my forearms as I hurry into the guest bedroom where Cherub is sleeping. The bloodstained bed is empty, and I’m about to duck into the kitchen to see if she’s in there, when I hear the shower running.

The sight that greets me is soul destroying.

Huddled on the tiles is the woman I love. She’s holding herself as she rocks back and forth. Without bothering to take off my jeans or boots, I step under the lukewarm water, twist the tap off, and crouch down in front of her. The T-shirt I helped Venom cover her with earlier is plastered to her body and her wet hair hides her face. I push as much as I can from her eyes. The blue orbs that meet mine are filled with despair.

“Where’s Zeke?”

In that instant, I decide to hedge around the truth. “Toker’s missin’. Soon as Venom finds him, he’ll be back for you.”

Cherub’s chin wobbles. Two fat tears break free of her lower lids and slide down her cheeks. “I’m a mess.”

“You’re fuckin’ allowed to be.”

As I help her back to her feet and guide her out of the shower cubicle, she leans heavily on me. After I’ve helped her out of the saturated T-shirt, I dry her off with one towel and wrap a second around her drenched hair. Passing her a warm washcloth, I leave her sitting on the edge of the spa bath so I can duck out of the bathroom to grab something to dress her in.

“Let me help,” I demand softly when Cherub holds out her hand for the clothing I’ve grabbed. “You don’t have to be strong tonight. This is between me and you.”

The pig-headed woman relents after another token resistance.

“Is Zeke okay?” she asks while I unwrap a new pair of boxer-briefs.

“Think so,” I reply, kneeling in front of her and stretching out the waistband so she can easily step into them.

A year or so ago, my mumma tried to talk me into wearing them rather than my usual boxers, but they’re too constricting for my liking. When I spotted them in my drawer, I figured they’d finally come in useful.

Discovering they’re way too big for Cherub once I’ve slid them up her thighs, I move to fold the waist down. With a soft brush of her fingertips against my cheek, she stops me. “I need something for the bleeding first.”

“Oh, yeah.”

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