Page 39 of Choices

KITTY

“Congratulations,” Claire says as Callan wraps an arm around Rogue’s shoulders and draws her into his body, kissing her with an intensity that’s almost obscene. The words paralyze me. With Claire at his side, Cutter raises a glass to my brother, catapulting me back to the past.

He and Claire are standing in the exact position they were the night he announced their plans to marry. I didn’t think there was a betrayal greater than him impregnating the bitch. He didn’t even give me a fucking chance to come to terms with that news before springing into the next surprise. I knew he was a bastard, but cruel? It felt sadistic and sent shockwaves through my body, the pain engulfing me in a chokehold.

“Are you okay, Kit? You’re white as a sheet,” Rose says from beside me, her baby sleeping in her arms. The hectic noise of the club bar rushes in, cutting through the static in my head, and I force a smile to my lips.

Clearing my throat, warmth spreads through my veins, the blood returning to my limbs. “Yeah, I’m fine. Happy,” I say with a weary laugh, almost breathless. “Really happy for them.”

Within three weeks of finding her in his bed, Claire had Cutter’s ring on her finger, her swelling stomach a constant reminder that she owned him, and I didn’t. A club slut who shared my dad’s bed now shares one with the man I love. She’s good enough—I’m not. I’d let the anger of it all fuel me, had fed the grief like it was an animal living within me until Claire gave birth and stopped coming around the clubhouse. Cutter never moved, and eventually, I forgot the pain he inflicted and my heart thawed, allowing him back in. What a fool I was—am.

“Why did they take so long to announce it? She’s been wearing that ring for weeks,” Maggie says, placing a tray of champagne flutes on the table in front of Rose, Diamond, and me. My glare makes her flinch, her eyes darting to Rose and the fatherless child in her arms. We only buried Daddy a few weeks ago. Rogue didn’t want to be insensitive.

“I think it’s wonderful.” Rose sighs wistfully. “The club needs this. It’s time to celebrate the good things. Life goes on.” Her gaze drops to her son.

“You’re right.” I plant a kiss on her cheek and slip out of the seat, taking a glass of champagne and approaching my brother. Clinking his beer bottle, I beam. “To the best decision you’ve ever made.”

Not taking his eyes off his fiancée, a knowing smile curves his lips. “I can’t argue with that.”

“One day, it’ll be your turn, Kitty cat,” Claire chimes in, clinging to Cutter’s arm, almost giddy.

Is she for real?

I blink an unnecessary number of times before retorting, “It’s not every woman’s life goal to be legally bound to one of these assholes.” I jab a finger at Callan, ignoring Cutter altogether.

“Good.” Callan ruffles a hand through my fake hair. “You’re not getting married until you’re thirty-eight—and it sure as shit won’t be to a brother.” I don’t miss Cutter’s body becoming rigid or him untucking Claire’s arm from his.

I don’t bother telling Callan to eat shit or informing him I’ll marry whoever I want.No one.Instead, I turn to Rogue and embrace her, whispering, “I’m so fucking happy for you.”

“It’s not just him I’m marrying, you know,” she assures me, pulling back and rubbing her hands up my arms.

“Oh, I know—it’s the club.” I snort.

“It’s you.” She tucks a blue strand of hair behind my ear. “You’re my family now.”

Love blooms inside me like a seed. I’m not alone in my pain anymore. Rogue sees me. Gets me. Loves me.

Claire’s thin arms suddenly wrap around our sides, squeezing like we’re old girlfriends. “That was beautiful,” she breathes out.

I suppress the shudder taking hold of me and step out of her reach. “I’ve got to go. Keg needs his hair brushed.”

“You brush your cat?” Claire’s pretty face screws into a confused expression, and Rogue bites her lip to stop from laughing.

“She doesn’t brush her cat.” Cutter exhales, shaking his head and turning his back on Claire to order another drink.

“We’ll celebrate later, yeah?” I slide my eyes to Claire without turning my head, and Rogue can’t contain her laugh this time.

“Yeah, of course. Go brush your cat.”

As I leave through the exit, I almost bump into my dad coming inside. “Hey.” I wrap my arms around his middle and inhale the oil and grass from his clothes. He always smells of summer.

“Not sticking around to celebrate?” The white in his hair has become more prominent lately.

“I’ll be back later.”

“I dread the day you bring home a man,” he informs me, stress lines marring his forehead.

“So do I.” I cross my eyes, acting silly.

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