Page 92 of Choices

“No.” It’s barely a whisper but it buries itself into me, settling in my chest, compressing. A surge of panic flares inside me. My heart kicks against my ribcage, trying to escape. I fucked up. I lost her.

“I hate you,” she breathes out, placing her hands on my head.

Peace washes over me, air unfurling from my lungs. Those three words unwind the noose around my neck, releasing all the tension inside me. She fucking loves me.

Pulling me up to face her, small palms grasping my cheeks, she looks down at me, worry lines creasing her brow. “But you can’t come to my bed until it’s real. No more sneaking around and lying to everyone. It has to be real.” Determination slashes across her features.

I have to tell her everything. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”

Her body stiffens, and her skin pales. “Just say it.” She releases my face, dropping her hands to the bed fisting her duvet.

My lips open, and so does her bedroom door, silencing me.

Fuck.

“Dad?” Kitty frowns.

Pres’s simmering rage causes the vein in his neck to pulse. Dark slits narrow down on me on my knees at Kitty’s feet. “Am I interrupting something?” His tone holds a deadly note I take as a warning.

Getting to my feet, I exhale a heavy breath. “I’ll come back later, okay?” I tell Kit.

“I actually came for you,” Pres says, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder for me to follow him into the hallway. Kitty shadows, standing at the threshold, wrapping her arms around her middle.

“Go lie down, Kitty,” he tells her.

Her head swivels toward me, her eyes landing on mine. I nod, reassuring her everything is okay. I don’t know if it is true. I do know if he hits me, I don’t want her to see it or to try to stop it from happening.

The moment she closes the door, Pres nods for me to walk down the hall. When I get ten feet away, he slams into my back, forcing me against the wall, pushing my arm up my back. I don’t fight him or move. “What the hell was that, boy?”

“I love her,” I confess.

“I don’t give a fuck. You made your fucking bed. Now you have to lie in it,” he growls in my ear, spittle hitting my cheek. Releasing me, he swipes his hand across his mouth. “You ain’t making my kid your side piece. Do you want everyone thinking she’s a club slut giving it up to married brothers?”

“I’ll kill anyone who talks about her,” I declare, flexing my arm to loosen the knot he caused.

Stabbing a finger in my direction, nostrils flaring, he says, “It’s more important than ever you keep your wife sweet right now. Did you notice she greeted Michael by name? What the fuck was that about?” I hadn’t. I was too busy watching Kitty.

“I’ll find out.”

“You fucking better—or I will.” He sidesteps around me and disappears in the opposite direction. Pulling out my phone, I send a text to Claire.

Me: Where are you?

Claire: At mom’s getting Rocco. Why?

Me: We need to talk. Meet me at your house.

Claire: Our house, Liam.

Me: Be there in an hour.

Claire: Fine.

Pulling up Kitty’s number, I type out a quick message and leave.

Me: Everything is fine. He wanted to talk to me about business. I’ll see you tonight. Get some rest.

Claire’s home looms like a menacing enemy, taunting me with its cold blue walls as I pull up and kill the bike’s engine. This oppressive place has never brought me solace or comfort, only contempt and loathing. I may pay for it, but it’s never been mine. The club is where I live. Kitty is my home. If it hadn’t been for Rocco, I never would have put down roots with Claire. She chose this craftsman style, whereas I prefer a rancher house.

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