Page 62 of Choices

I flex my hand, wincing as the stitches pull. “You okay?” Diamond asks, buttering a piece of toast for me.

“Sore.” I shrug.

We’re in our usual spot in the bar having breakfast. I stare at the TV screen without registering what’s on. Chatter hums around us but the words sound like static. I can’t focus on anything. Yesterday, the dam burst and everything that’d been building inside me exploded out, uncontrolled. Wild and destructive. My emotions shattered around me, and I felt helpless as Cutter stood there, witnessing the extent of my brokenness.

With no walls remaining to protect me, I feel frayed. Raw.

I need to get out of here.

“Eat something,” Diamond says, pushing a plate toward me. Her dark red hair is pulled up into a beehive. A parrot could perch on the giant hoops in her ears. I wonder how she finds the energy to be so put together all the time. I haven’t looked in amirror, but I know it’s not a pretty sight. Diamond’s eyes shift to someone approaching.

“Hey,” Rogue says, stopping at our table. I didn’t notice she was in here. “Can I join you?”

“Sure, sweetheart.” Diamond chuckles. “You don’t need to ask.”

“I know, but Kit’s mad at me.” She slips into the seat next to me and nudges my shoulder.

“I’m sorry for upsetting you.” A waft of wildflowers and sugarcane fills my nostrils.

I’m not mad. I didn’t speak to her the entire time she stitched and bandaged me up. Maybe I’m a little mad.

“You mean lying to me?” I correct without looking at her.

Diamond’s eyes shift between us, her brow crinkled. “I’m going to go make a fresh pot of coffee,” she states, making the excuse to leave.

Adding cream to my coffee, Rogue picks up a spoon and begins stirring the liquid. “I really did need air, but you’re right. The truth is I was talking to Monster about Harley.”

My stomach dips. “Really?” I shift in my seat, a twinge of guilt niggling. She doesn’t mention her sister much anymore. Not to me, anyway.

“Really. He’s helping me with my grief.”

“Monster?” I ask incredulously, finally looking at her.

Rolling her eyes, she blows out a breath then steals my slice of toast. “He’s a really good guy. We’re friends.” She jerks a shoulder, tearing off the crust.

“Monster?” I repeat, my eyes burning into the side of her head.

Almost choking, she says around a mouthful, “Yes! Monster. It’s complicated. I don’t how to explain it. He understands the dark parts of me I had to tap into to be able deal with everything that happened.” A shadow passes over her eyes.

“What does my brother think about that?”

Her back straightens. “What’s there to think about? I’m allowed to have friends, Kit. Even if they’re odd.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

She’s right. It’s none of Callan’s business.

“Fine. If you say that’s the truth, I believe you.” I snatch my half-eaten toast from her and stuff it in my mouth.

“It is. But again, I’m sorry for making you feel any kind of way. And for stealing your breakfast.” She outstretches her arms. “Friends?”

“Fuck no.” I scrunch up my nose. “Family.” I tug her into me, squeezing her tight.

“Sisters,” she whispers, clinging to me a little longer.

Emotion clogs my throat. I need this—need her.

“Can I get in on this?” Dodger asks, his foot nudging the table, sending the teaspoon clattering to the floor.

“Not if you want to keep your balls, motherfucker,” my dad threatens, leaning over the back of my chair and dropping a kiss on my head. “How’s the hand, sweetheart?” he asks, rounding the table and pulling up a chair.

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