Page 104 of Choices

Turning and striding back, he jabs a finger at me. “Don’t play games when it comes to Rogue. Do you know where she is?”

“Yes. Fix my chair and I’ll tell you,” I say with a wolfish smile.

“Kit.” It’s a warning.

“Callan.” I drop my tone to mimic his.

“I’ll dunk your ass in the fucking pool,” he threatens, looking over at the inflatable pool Diamond put out for the kids. “Tell me where she is.”

“Did she tell you about Bear?” I ask, wondering why he didn’t go with her to the graves.

“What about Bear?” His brow crashes.

For fuck’s sake. “Talk to your fiancée, Callan.” I jerk my chin toward the woman in question, striding toward us in a flowery cotton dress and sandals, looking young and wholesome. Before he can take off in her direction, I add, “And you need to give memoney for the dresses and other shit we’re going to need for this wedding.”

“She has my credit card.”

“And she won’t use it.”

“Fine, I’ll transfer money to your account.” His long strides eat up the distance until he’s pulling her into his arms and dragging her away. She waves manically over to me, offering me a slight apology with her eyes before putting her focus on him.

Awareness rustles through me when a tiny shadow appears in front of me holding a blue soccer ball. “Hey.” I frown up at Rocco, looking around him to see where his parents are. Cutter’s talking to Dodger, his posture ramrod straight, and Claire is glaring at me from fifteen feet away.

Perfect.

Rocco twists around to look back and forth between his mother and me, remaining silent.Did she send him over here to guilt me?

“Do you want me to throw the ball?” I ask him, and he places it down and kicks it toward me, knocking over the beer bottle next to me. “Shit.” I’m really not destined to have that beer.

“You said a bad word,” Rocco informs me, sucking his cheeks in. I vaguely remember him saying that to me in my room the day he knocked my goldfish over.

“Let’s pretend I didn’t, okay, buddy?” I offer him one of the three cupcakes I stole from the kitchen earlier and groan when Claire marches over to us, swipes up the ball, and pulls Rocco away from the plate like I’m giving him grenades to play with.

“You don’t feed other people’s children. You don’t know if he has allergies,” she snaps.

“Does he?”

“That’s not the point.”

I want to give her the point of a knife, but I put the plate down instead and hold up my hands. “Fine. I’ll eat them myself.”

Sweeping her gaze over my figure, she thins her lips. “You’re irresponsible.”

I know her outburst and goading have nothing to do with me giving the kid a cupcake and everything to do with Cutter leaving her for me. I know what losing him feels like, but he was mine first. He’s always been mine. “And you’re a bitch,” I retort, velvety smooth.

“You said another bad word.” Rocco gasps, and Claire looks ready to burst. If she thinks that’s the worst word the kid is going to hear today, she’s got another thing coming.

“Everything okay?” Chris interrupts like a knight in leather armor. He hands me a beer and nabs one of the cupcakes.

“No. It’s not,” Claire seethes, turning on her heel and practically dragging the poor kid away.

“I overheard.” He shakes his head and pulls a chair over, straddling it while tearing the paper off the cupcake. “You okay?”

Getting to my feet, I fiddle with the leg of my lounger, prodding it back into place before sitting down. “Fine. Thanks for the beer.”

“Sure. I’ve been meaning to check in on you after what happened the other morning. Is there a reason Michael Carnell hurt you?”

“Are you asking if I did something to deserve it?” I push up my sunglasses and raise a brow, staring at him.

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