Page 89 of Making Choices

Biting back my misplaced humour, I look everywhere but at the nutcase of a woman in front of me as I follow the line on autopilot. One by one, we scoop up some dirt and toss it in Rider’s grave. I’ve already commemorated Tank and Weston this way, but the final words I have for Rider are, like the ones I gave Weston, a little more heartfelt than those I offered the rat within our ranks, Tank. “Brotherhood ‘til death, bro. You would’ve made a damn fine Shamrock… fuck me, you were a damn fine Shamrock and I’m gonna make ’em pay for takin’ the chance to reach your full potential away from you.”

Turning Cherub over to Nadia when my dad jerks his head at me in a silent request to follow him, I can’t stop my attention from flitting between Venom and his woman.

My woman?

All day, she’s been glued to my side. Still favouring her ribs and sporting a noticeable limp, yet resolutely stoic. Everyone who hasn’t made it to my house over the past week has stopped to enquire about her health and to offer their condolences about the baby. Venom has kept his distance, acknowledging neither of us, even as he’s conversed easily with his other Shamrock brothers and their women. Still, every time their paths have remotely crossed, the gathered mourners have collectively held their breath in anticipation of the blow up.

It hasn’t come.

Not once has Cherub’s gaze strayed to Venom, even though he’s looked her way too many times to count.

She’s adjusted her damaged halo and patched up her broken heart.

Greeted the day with fight in her eyes and resolve in her step.

Effectively frozen him out while maintaining her innate majesty.

Even with a battered body and a tsunami of grief trying to mow her down, my duchess is a sight to behold.

Strong as fuck and perfect as ever.

“Head in the game,” Hunter chides when we pass by each other.

Pushing thoughts of Cherub out of my mind, I survey the graveyard.

Thankfully, the funerals went off without a hitch. The cops kept their distance. The Maddison Clan and the Bishops of Bloodshed haven’t been glimpsed since their plans to take us all out fell apart. Brutus has remained in hiding at Doc’s clinic, either too ashamed or too cowardly to join the Shamrocks as we farewell the three men his schemes killed. The Glasgow grin we’ve been told that he’s sporting, courtesy of Venom’s blade, might also have played a part in his reticence to show his face.

“The way you’re lookin’ at Venom has me worried.”

After glancing at my father when he steps up beside me, I return my attention to my best friend. He’s hanging off to the side, by himself, the same look of defeat etched on his face that I spied as we rode back into the city together. “I’m fine. He’s the one you should be worried about.”

“Oh, I’m capable of multitaskin’, son. I’m also capable of discernin’ the reason for the distance between you two.”

“It’s hardly a secret, Dad.”

“He knows you’re in love with little Cherub then?”

My breath catches in my throat and my pulse skips a beat. “Dunno what you’re talkin’ about… I’m shitty that he took off to the Blackards and left me to handle everything. He’s a disgrace to the VP patch.”

When my father clamps his hand down on my shoulder, I brace for a tirade about respect and brotherhood. As is his way, he knocks the winds of anticipation out of my sails by steering us onto a course I didn’t expect. “Your mumma and I have seen this comin’ for years. Alls we ask is that you fight fair, and you accept her decision with dignity.”

“Why does everyone think she’ll choose him over me?” My question is ground out from between gritted teeth. “Am I really that inferior to Venom that even my own parents believe he’s the best fuckin’ choice?”

The grip on my shoulder tightens to a painful level as my father leans his entire weight on me to stop me from stalking off. “Never said that. Wouldn’t say that… now, I’m thinkin’ I might’ve made a meal outta my attempt to advise you, ’cause all I meant to do was warn you that Cherub’s choice might surprise you, and if it does, you need to face it with pride rather than try to bulldoze her into submission.” His gaze drifts toward Venom. “Feel like she’s had enough of that in her life.”

“Seriously, Dad, you’re givin’ Hades a run for his money today with the riddles. If you have somethin’ to say to me, say it… or leave me to muddle through on my own.”

“I have somethin’ to say all right,” he cautions. “You’re simply too headstrong to hear it.”

“Whatever.” If I didn’t know from previous experience that, gravel rash and bruised hip aside, he’d knock me on my arse in front of everyone, I’d roll my eyes at his theatrics. “Can I go now?”

“No. Need you to ask Venom to meet me at the Mayberry mausoleum once everyone but our chapter has left. Do whatever it takes, we needa speak to him urgently.”

It’s the last thing I want to do right now, but I still offer him my agreement. Mumma’s boy. Dad’s lad. Disappointing my parents or unnecessarily arguing the point isn’t something I’ve ever aspired to with them. I grew up observing the impact that being motherless and, at times, fatherless had on Toker and Venom, so I know how lucky I am to have two loving parents who support me unconditionally. “Fine. I’ll have him back there shortly.”

“Much appreciated.”

Venom’s distracted, busy watching Nadia help Cherub into the Shamrocks van, when I sidle up next to him. In the most conversational tone I can manage, I reluctantly break the silence that’s lingered for more than a week between us, “Where have you been stayin’?”

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