Page 78 of Making Choices

“I’ve seen a couple times,” Slash enters his bedroom and finishes the reply I wasn’t sure how to handle. His icy gaze gleams with humour when our eyes meet. “With all that went on last night, I called her in. Figured Doc had his hands full… probably still does.”

At his reminder of the carnage that was rained down on the Shamrocks to coincide with Alex breaching the not-so safe house, Crystal’s features pinch with worry and she suddenly looks every one of her fifty-odd years of age. Now it’s my turn to comfort her. “Why don’t you head back to Angelis? I’m clean and comfortable. As long as your son feeds and waters me regularly, I’ll be fine without you.”

“As long as you’re sure, mo ulaidh bheag?”

Even though every part of my body aches and my legs are unsteady, I stoop down to wrap my arms around Crystal’s neck and hug her tight. When Charlie tries to step around us, I seize hold of her wrist to stop her. My stepmother seems as impatient to get back to my horrible father as Crystal is to see her old man, and I can’t help but worry about how she’ll take the news that he’s a traitor, not only to the club, but to his entire family, once the Shamrocks hierarchy decides it’s time to let everyone else in on the truth.

“Thank you both.” My voice wavers as my gaze locks with Slash’s over the top of his mother’s head. “All of you have gone above and beyond.”

I stare at one of my best friends in the entire world as the two older women murmur their goodbyes and gather their things. Instinctually, he seems to understand how close I am to collapse since he curls an arm around my waist to steady me while Charlie squeezes my hand in farewell. My eyes hardly register them leaving because my lower belly pulses with the ache that’s fast becoming familiar, and I feel some more of my baby evacuate my body. It steals the final vestiges of the calm façade I’ve managed to project since Sander arrived at the same time as the adrenaline that’s been keeping me upright deserts me. Slash catches me when my knees buckle, and he sweeps me into the air.

“That’s enough socialisin’ for today,’ he chides, clutching me tight as he carries me down the stairs. I brace for memories of last night to hit when we enter the guest room, but they don’t come. The remnants of my night from hell have been removed and the bed has been remade with a fluffy quilt and extra pillows added. “This is your space for as long as you need it. Weeks, months, years… I don’t give a shit how long.”

“Because my actual home is compromised, the compound is unsafe, and Zeke is out looking for Toker?” He blinks fast in the wake of my question, his ice-blue eyes fill with clouded emotion, and I feel his posture stiffen. A guarded look overtakes his usually open expression. Running my fingertips over Slash’s stubbled chin, I tell him, “You’re one of the best people I know... and that’s the only reason I’m not demanding answers right now.”

“I’m the best you’ve ever had,” he retorts. His full lips part and his white teeth flash as he jerks his head back to nip at my fingers. I snatch my hand out of biting reach, then we both laugh. Until I press a hand to my stomach and our brief burst of humour dies. In a move that reminds me so much of Zeke it hurts, Slash presses his lips to my forehead and tightens his grip on me. “Let’s get you settled. I’ll heat up some of the food Mumma dropped off and we’ll watch the idiot box for a while.”

I remain silent while he pulls back the covers and lowers me to the mattress. Slash tucks me in and fluffs the pillows behind me before he gently nudges me to lean against the bedhead. Pulling the covers up to my chin, I try my hardest not to blink because I know that the moment I do, tears are going to fall and they’re unlikely to stop. Once again, the steadfast man seems to read my mood and he comes to the rescue.

“Cry as much as you need to,” he tells me as he picks up the box of tissues on the tall boy and drops them onto the bedside table. “Scream if you need. I’ll be here to catch you, to hold you, to wipe away your sorrow, for as long as you need me.”

“’Til Zeke gets back?” I ask, although I know Slash will stay with me even then.

For some reason, I feel the need to remind myself that my man will be back, eventually, despite the tightness that clenches my chest every time someone tries to evade my questions about his absence. Life without Zeke is impossible to comprehend. I need him like I need air, and he’s never given me one sign that he doesn’t feel the same way. Potential dalliance with Honey aside, a screw up that he’s already denied, losing him on top of everything else would destroy me.

“Nope.” Slash pops the final syllable to punctuate his disagreement. “That bed’s motherfuckin’ huge. There’s room for the three of us.”

“I’ll clue you in now. No bed is big enough for three when your oversized self is involved. It’s custom made or bust, BFG.” Nadia announces her arrival in the guest room with her usual aplomb. She slaps Slash on the butt and uses his momentary distraction to take hold of his arm and steer him toward the doorway. Pointing at something I can’t see, she orders, “I want two bowls of your mumma’s Scotch broth delivered, post-haste. We’ll let you know when it’s time to serve her shortbread.”

The annoyed glance Slash directs at my best friend could peel paint.

As usual, Nadia is either oblivious or unaffected.

Knowing her, it’s probably both.

She flicks her fingers in a gesture for him to get moving, then crosses her arms over her chest as she yells after him, “I answered your phone earlier. Seems your girlfriend is on her way over… thought you might wanna shower first, so why don’t you do that before you organise our food.”

His response is an intelligible grumble that makes Nadia grin. I try to work out why she seems so excited to be poking at Slash when she’s already arguing with Sander, but the question at the tip of my tongue evaporates when she turns her attention to me, and sympathy invades her expression.

“I heard about the baby,” Nadia tells me as she toes off her shoes and climbs into the other side of the bed. Leaning across me, she snags the tissues and places them on my lap. “Not a huge fan of Slash right now but he was right about one thing. You need to cry this out or it’s gonna eat at you.”

“You think?”

Nadia makes a face at me that I can’t quite read. “I know.”

We lapse into silence. My best friend makes herself comfortable and messes around with the television. I take hold of the tissue box with both hands and stare sightlessly into the distance. My eyes burn. My chest aches. My stomach continues to cramp. Even so, I find it difficult to allow myself to break.

Something in the back of my mind tells me that it’s not time.

That it’s not safe to shatter yet.

As the movie Nadia selected starts to play, I turn my focus onto the television screen. On it, a well-watched favourite movie begins. The Choice. A Nicholas Sparks adaptation. Known as a tearjerker of the highest order.

“You’re really serious about the crying thing, aren’t you?”

She nudges me softly. “Sometimes it’s the only way.”

Huddled together, we lean on each other as the story unfolds.

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