Page 76 of Making Choices

“He’s hurtin’. Not thinkin’ straight.” As much as my heart tries to silence my head, I force myself to continue. “Cherub doesn’t know yet, and I’m hopin’ you’ll keep it that way.” Inhaling sharply and ignoring the way my gut twinges, my excuses trip from my lips with minimal effort. “Told her he’s lookin’ for Toker—which he could be for all we know. Wanna keep things as calm as I can for her until we know if he’s comin’ back or not.”

“Venom’s in Sydney.”

Like a pair of Muppets, Sander and I spin around to face the owner of the voice. Nadia sneers at us, a glower of anger in her eyes that darkens as she strides out of my dim living room into the kitchen. No one’s thought to open the curtains and blinds—hell, the coffee pot is only hot because my mumma thought to tend to it—and it adds a sinister element to Nadia’s snarky entrance that she seems to relish.

“I had Cub track his phone.” With her hip, she nudges Sander out of her way and rounds the corner of the counter to grab the coffee pot. After nabbing a mug out of my cupboard, she fixes herself a hot drink. I glance at Sander, but he doesn’t notice since he’s too busy scowling at Nadia. She grins at me, takes a sip of her coffee, then smirks. “Like I told Sander upstairs, my agreement with this idiotic plan to lie to the woman who hates being lied to comes with a time limit and a couple of strings attached.”

Sander’s halfway over the counter before I manage to grab a handful of his shirt. Although I’m anchoring him, he still tries to get to her. Arm out, finger jabbing the air between them, he shouts, “I fuckin’ told you that you don’t get to throw around ultimatums.”

“Oh, screw you,” Nadia screams back at him as she clutches her mug like a lifeline. She’s paled, even as her gaze flares with spite. “You don’t get to tell me what I can do.”

“Settle down,” I snarl. “The pair of you.”

In an instant, Nadia’s expression turns contrite. Her ex-boyfriend doesn’t get the memo, though, so I surge forward and wrap my fingers around his neck, then drag him out of the kitchen in the direction of the guest room Bebe used to tend to Cherub last night. With wild movements, Sander tries to break free. My own rage, fuelled by the sense of uselessness that’s been stalking me since I burst into Brutus’ safe house last night to find Venom cradling our beaten Cherub, breaks free. I tighten my grip around his throat, digging in my fingertips to hold him in place while I drive the knuckles of my free fist into his face.

Once.

Twice.

“Okay. Okay,” Sander grumbles. He halts his fight to raise one arm in the air. The nails of his other hand bite into my wrist as he scratches at my brutal grasp. “Let me go, Slash. Fuckin’ now.”

My anger remains steady until my attention is caught by the bloodstained sheets I forgot that I’d left on the guest bed. Sander follows my gaze and all colour blanches from his face. Our eyes lock, and in his expression, I see the same horror that dogged me last night.

Bebe calling for help.

Cherub on the floor.

The fear.

The blood.

The uncertainty.

Venom frozen as his heart bleeds out in front of him.

Figuratively and literally.

“It’s almost as bad as the house.” For a moment, I don’t understand Sander’s comment, then he clarifies. “The bed where she killed Alex was a lot worse than this, but it kills me to know that this is all her blood. At least, at the house, I knew most of it was his.”

“Help me change the bed,” I order instead of answering him.

Because the truth of the matter is that this isn’t all Cherub’s blood, yet I can’t bring myself to acknowledge it, let alone make that point to Sander. The baby that died is going to haunt us all. An eternal reminder of the Shamrocks failure. A painful indictment of our refusal to listen to the most important woman in our world when she tried to tell us how bad things were going to get.

“Mumma’s gonna let me know when Doc’s on his way. It’ll be easier if I carry her down here for him to look her over.”

“Be easier if you left her down here, rather than keep her in your bed.”

With sharp movements, I ignore him to concentrate on stripping the sheet off the mattress and removing the damp mattress cover. Tension radiates between us as Sander deals with the quilt cover and the pillowcases. Shoving the wadded material into his hands, I say, “Put that in the washing machine.”

“Ya know this changes nothin’, right?” He smirks. It’s a devious sight, one that’s reminiscent of his father. It makes me itch with the need to add to the swelling that’s quickly setting into his cheek from my previous punches. “The second he pulls his head outta his arse and comes back to her, you’ll be relegated back to bein’ their best friend. This ain’t gonna end the way you think.”

I drop my gaze from his know-it-all expression to the darkening bruises around his neck. “Dunno why you think I’m interested in your thoughts, considerin’ you can’t even keep your cool around your ex-girlfriend.” Lifting my eyebrows, I lower my voice into a conspiratorial tone to ask, “Or has she been upgraded to fuck buddy in Bear’s absence? Is that what all the tension’s over?”

“Fuck you,” Sander retorts. He turns on his heel and storms out of the bedroom.

After grabbing a new set of bedding, I quickly remake the bed. As I’m tossing the last pillow back onto the mattress, Nadia bursts into the guest room. It takes all my effort not to roll my eyes at the smug expression lighting up her face.

Cupping her ear, she laughs. “Hear those tyres squealing?”

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