Page 58 of Choices

Slipping around me, she gathers up some clothes and storms to the bathroom.

Sighing, I pinch the bridge of my nose and drop my gaze to Rocco. He’s holding the sleeve of his jacket out for the cat to bat with its paws. “Be a good boy for Daddy, okay?”

“Okay.”

Waltzing into the bathroom, I slam the door, rattling the shower walls. Leaning against the sink, her head bowed between her arms, she asks, exasperated, “What do you want?”

You.

Always you.

“I can’t see you around the club with another brother, Kit. I’ll kill him.” I already want to make the son of a bitch hurt, and I don’t even know that she has fucked him.

“You’re such a selfish bastard.” Sadness slices through her features.

“I know. And you can hate me all you want.”

Her eyes flash wild in the mirror back at me.

“You rely on me hating you to keep me single.” She shakes her head. Tears fill her eyes, leaking down her cheeks.

Fuck. No. What’s happening?

A knife jabs into my heart, twisting the more I look at her. Seeing the damage I’m causing.

“You want it all, and I get nothing,” she fires out, reaching for something on the counter and launching it at me. It thuds against the wall, denting the plaster, then falls to the floor by my feet with a crack.

“I was willing to give you everything, and you made me your whore.”

My ears ring. My pulse rushes through my veins. I’ve broken her. I’ve done a lot of dark things in my life, but this has to be the worst.

“Don’t say that. That’s not fucking true.”

Swiping at her cheeks, she sniffles and laughs, but it’s manic, unnatural. “I’m so tired of hating you.”

My heart stops.

Pain radiates from her, the waves scorching me from flesh to bone.

She’s five feet from me. Every part in me screams to go to her and erase all of the pain hanging so heavy around us. Tell her I love her so fucking much it’s immeasurable.

“Kit…” I reach my hand out toward her, and she takes a weary step to the side.

“Don’t touch me.”

“I lo—” A crash sounds from behind the door, cutting me off.

“Daddy!” Rocco’s cry jolts me into action.

Rushing for the door, I swing it open, finding him standing by the dresser below the window, his palm covering his mouth, his other hand pointing down to broken glass where a huge water puddle is expanding on the floor. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“It’s okay, little man. Come here.” Lifting him up, his legs curl around my hip and arms cling to my neck.

“What happened?” Kitty gasps, her eyes feral.

“I’m sorry. He broke a vase. I’ll pay for it.”

“Where’s Goldie?” she asks frantically, searching the area.

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