Page 88 of Making Choices

Today, though, it has the opposite effect.

His anger is a camouflage.

A shitty one.

Because I know him as well as I know myself, I can see beneath the mask. Reddened irises, an extra week’s growth on his chin, the tight press of his lips, and the line indenting the skin between his eyebrows tell the story he never will. Venom is broken. Filled with as much regret as I am. He’s willingly surrendered to his guilt. Life has dumped another load of pain onto his shoulders, and he’s quit trying to keep his head above water.

Cherub’s plea from five nights ago pops back into my head.

While I’ve been content to play house with my dream girl, while I’ve done my best to keep my promise to stop her from going under, I’ve allowed my best friend to drown.

My plan to throw my hat in the ring upon his return peters out.

The bravado I met Sander’s challenge with collapses.

She belonged to him first.

Some part of her always will.

And that’s why I’m going to give him a chance to sort things out with Cherub without my interference.

“Fuck’s sake,” I shout at him. “Quit bein’ a bloody martyr.”

The wind whipping around us as we speed down the freeway swallows my words, so I settle for pulling closer to thump his leg again.

Venom sees me coming and holds his fist out.

Gazes locked, we bump knuckles.

I grin.

He looks away.

Together we ride back into Perth, and with each mile my confidence grows.

He’s going to fix what he broke.

Possibly breaking my heart in the process.

But that’s a price I’m willing to pay for my duchess.

My expectations are thwarted when I slow down to take the off-ramp onto the freeway that leads to my suburb, and Venom keeps heading for the hills. The Blackards SMC nod at me as they follow him. Left floundering in indecision once more, I’m faced with the same damn choice that’s haunted me for weeks...

Do I follow my head and try to bring Venom and Cherub back together for one final shot at making their relationship work or has the time come to listen to my heart and fight for what I want?

Heart or head, win or lose, it’s clear things will never be the same between me and Venom.

And, truthfully, I’m not sure I even care.

* * *

Standing behind Cherub with my hands on her shoulders, I watch Venom turn the handle to lower the last of the three caskets. Next to her, Delia cries. On the other side, Nadia sits with a stiff spine and a defiant gleam in her eyes. Cherub holds each woman’s hand, murmuring to Delia every now and then as she weeps for her dead husband, shooting warning looks at her best friend whenever she scoffs under her breath at Venom as he leads the proceedings.

“Remember what I told you,” Nadia mutters as we start to line up to toss a handful of dirt onto Rider’s coffin. “Fuck men.” She notices me and shoots a toothy grin my way. “Present company excluded… sometimes.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” the crazy blonde replies cheerfully. When the men lined up behind us stare at her, Nadia’s face reddens and she murmurs as she crosses herself, “I mean, how terrible. Rest in peace, prospect.”

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