Page 71 of Making Choices

I ignore the colour that rushes up her neck when I hand one of the packages Bebe left to her. Keeping a grip on Cherub’s upper arms, I do my best to look away while she sticks the pad to the crotch of the underpants.

“I hope you’ve got someone keeping an eye on Zeke.” Cherub’s nails sink into my shoulders as she tries to keep her balance as I finish fixing the waist of the boxer-briefs so they won’t slide down. “He’s probably beating himself up about all this.”

“He’ll be fine,” I promise her, even as my conscience stabs me. “He’ll be even better when he sees you all cleaned up and smilin’.”

At that, she tries to smile at me. It wobbles off her face half a second later and she collapses against me as tears take hold. Carefully moving her, I slide one of the clean T-shirts over her head and pull it down around her hips. As soon as Cherub is fully covered, I sweep her legs out from under her and settle her against my chest.

Bypassing the bloodied bed in the guest room, I carry her up the stairs and into my bedroom.

My guilt kicks up another notch.

The sobbing woman in my arms doesn’t say a word when I pull my covers back and lay her down on the side of the mattress that I never use. I expect her to complain when I shuck my damp boots and wet jeans and, after wiping myself dry, climb into the bed with her. She doesn’t. I hold my arm up in a silent offer of physical support should she want it, and she dashes at the tears staining her face with both hands before shuffling over to me.

“It’s gonna be okay,” I tell her once she’s resting with her head on my chest. “You’ll see.”

“I don’t think it will. Even when Zeke gets back from finding Toker… it’s probably only going to get worse then.”

Cherub’s statement hangs in the air like a bad omen as we lapse into silence. When she sniffles, I hold my shattered duchess tight. I brush her hair with one hand while I use the other to rub her upper arm. Her weeping develops into full-blown crying, and I try to give her the space she needs to mourn freely. Without judgement. Without adding my own despair to hers.

Eventually, her battered body gives out and she falls asleep.

And I’m left to worry myself stupid.

When Venom decided to leave her, I attempted to stop him.

From the bottom of my heart, I really tried. I physically held him in place while I gave him the time to rethink his decision. But, when I saw in his eyes that there was no talking him out of it, I threatened to kill him if he returned to her.

And I meant it.

When Cherub discovers what he’s done, she’ll never forgive him. His desertion will break her almost as much as losing the baby has. I couldn’t in good conscience allow him to compound his cruel abandonment with pathetic excuses if he changes his mind.

At the time, it felt like the correct thing to do.

Now, I’m not so sure.

Because my prickling conscience is telling me that, noble intentions aside, I also cast my best friend out into the night, so I finally had the chance to take his place.

18

LILY

As soon as I open my eyes, reality hits me.

Alex’s latest attack.

Zeke’s ongoing absence.

The reason for the pain in my stomach.

Why I’m waking up in Slash’s bed instead of my own.

Every crappy thing that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours rams me like a raging bull. Bebe stitching me up. My shower meltdown. Slash tidying me up. Waking him up twice so he could carry me to the bathroom to deal with the bleeding since my legs had decided they didn’t need to work. Then the sheer agony that invaded every atom of my body finally tired me to the point where my tears ceased to fall, and I managed a few dreamless hours of sleep.

Thinking about it all leaves me gasping for breath as I try to fight through the pain that seems certain to become a constant for the foreseeable future. As my grief rises and attempts to swallow me again, I use ginger movements to burrow closer to the warm body beneath me and bury my face in the crook of my best friend’s neck.

“My phone’s been blowin’ up for the last hour,” the big man clutching me to his chest tells me in a tone that rumbles through his body. It’s strange to wake up in Slash’s bed, yet in his arms, I feel as close to safe as I can without Zeke. “Pretty sure we’ve got most of the bloody club camped out in my kitchen.”

The first question that pops into my head also trips out of my mouth. “Zeke?”

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