Page 29 of Choices

A tear leaks down her cheek as she wraps her arms around the bag without even questioning what the fuck I’m doing with it. I finally broke her.

“I hate you, and I hate myself for hating you,” she croaks, slamming the door in my face.

Placing my palm on the wood, my head dips, and I finally find the words.

“I love you too.”

CHAPTER 11

NOT FOR YOU

CUTTER

I slept the entire day away, waking as the sun was setting and the noise in the club became too loud.

Taking a shower and stroking my cock to thoughts of Kitty had become a ritual over the last year. I took an extra-long shower tonight before getting dressed and necking half a bottle of whiskey. Now, I’m leaning in the doorway of the club bar, not an ounce of party spirit in me.

An atmosphere of power and strength emanates through the room as brothers flood the compound for the party.

Bare tits and asses bounce all over the place, strippers, club sluts, and normies all wanting to ride a big, bad biker before running home to their vanilla lives. The bitches outnumber the brothers tonight. And there, among the flesh and leather, is Kitty, singing her favorite song at the top of her lungs.

The music blasts around the room, reverberating off the walls and rolling across the floor. Clouds of smoke fog the air, getting everyone high on the mix of nicotine, blow, alcohol, and lust.

All I can focus on is her, and as much as she tries not to, her eyes drift to me too many times to count.

I did this to myself—to us. I don’t want to know what it’ll be like to live in a world where she’s not creeping into my bed at night. Is this what it feels like to have the sky falling?

My jaw clenches when a young brother joins her, singing and swaying as she dances, carefree and intoxicated.

Diamond shimmies through the crowd, holding a tray of bottles. Hands reach out, depleting her stock. “How’s the head?” she puffs out, handing me the last one.

My fingers brush over the scab. “Healing.”

“You need to claim that girl or let her go.”

“W-what?” I stammer like nun caught masturbating.

“You heard me.” Her pink lips thin. “I’ve seen it so many times with club girls, but Kitty isn’t like them—don’t make her one. I can’t stand watching that girl’s heart break as she waits for you to claim her.”

Without another word, she disappears into the crowd, taking my castrated balls with her.

A blanket of remorse settles over me. I’d never see Kitty as a club slut or treat her like one on purpose.

As if sensing my misery, she looks over, straining her mouth not to smile. I’m going to make her a ghost of a woman—pining after me, wasting her best years. And I’ll give in, take her to my bed, fill her heart with false hope.

“You having a good time? It’s been a tense couple days,” Pres says, coming up beside me, placing a hand on my shoulder. I’d been so focused on Kitty, I didn’t even notice him in the room.

He slurps back a pull of his beer and grins over the rim of the bottle before wiping his mouth and running a hand through his beard. He goes through phases of growing a beard then hating how irritating it gets and shaving the whole thing off. I’d say he’sabout a week away before from his chin being as smooth as a baby’s ass.

“I need some sleep.” I shrug.Lies.

Barking a laugh, he says, “Sleep when you’re dead, son.”

Intrigued eyes shift in our direction, Pres garnering attention and respect from new and old brothers alike.

We’ve always had a good relationship. With Callan being my best friend, I spent more years in their home than my own growing up. He’s more than a president to me. My old man was a waste of oxygen, split on my mom when she refused to be his punching bag over two decades ago.

Pres clears his throat, and I listen intently when he speaks. “We’ve faced a lot of shit over the years and always overcame it. This business with the Carnell kid is no different.” Slapping my shoulder, he sweeps the room with his gaze. “Get some pussy and forget about this shit for a few hours.”

---