Page 56 of Choices

Slipping out from his hold, I push the comforter off the bed and climb out, almost tripping over Keg.

“You asked for one night,” I remind him, opening the window a little to air the room. “You got it.”

I don’t look back at him as I grab shorts and a tee and disappear into the bathroom.

Closing the door, I slide down to the floor and silently scream into the clothes. The tremor cascades over me, rattling my bones like an earthquake. Nothing has changed. The hollow, gaping hole in my chest is still present, and now I’ve done more damage to Chris’s heart too.

Love is a fucking curse. It burrows into you, cutting you to the core, filling you with poison, blackening your soul into a burning husk.

Breathe.

It’s okay.

Composing myself, I wash my face and pull on the clothes. When I open the door and step into my room, all that’s left is the lingering traces of liquor-flavored kisses and regret.

CHAPTER 19

BROKEN PIECES

CUTTER

Rocco lies like a starfish in the center of the bed, leaving me to skim the edge with no blanket.

I should have taken him back to the house, but I was half cut when Claire arrived and I’d never drive intoxicated with him in the car.

“You said I can play with the cat,” his little voice announces before his eyes even open. That cat is all he’s talked about since seeing it last night. There’s a joke in there somewhere.Both of us are obsessed with Kitty’s pussy.

Chuckling, I ruffle his hair. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

A bright smile takes over his face before he springs to his feet with ease and leaps onto me.

“Oof.” His knees come down on my chest, forcing air from my lungs.

“Can we go now, Daddy?”

“Maybe we should get dressed first, little man.”

He had to sleep in his shirt and underwear last night because Claire didn’t think to bring him a bag. Usually, he stays at her mom’s and has things there.

Sitting up, I throw his small body against the mattress, making him bounce and giggle. “Are you hungry?”

“No. I want to play with the cat.”

“I know you do.”

Knuckles rap on the door then it opens without me answering. Callan enters, his brow rising when he sees Rocco.

“Uncle Callan,” Rocco shouts out, pronouncing his name as cow-wan.

“Hey, buddy.” Callan scoops him up by the ankle and dangles him upside down while Rocco screeches with laughter. Curling his arm like he’s weightlifting, he says, “Oh, you’re too heavy. I’m going to drop you.”

“Is there a reason you’re in here so early?” I ask, getting to my feet and pulling on my jeans.

“Yeah, we hit Jennings warehouse tonight.” He’s now pretending Rocco is flying around the room, making whooshing sounds and all. The kid loves him, and it’s mutual. Never in a million years would I have thought Callan would be as involved with Rocco as he is. When I decided to raise the boy as my own, that was enough for Callan. If he’s mine—he’s his. Family.

“Okay.”

Placing Rocco on the bed, Callan proceeds to tickle his stomach. “We can have someone else go if you need to watch him.”

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