Page 97 of Choices

“Come on,” he grunts.

Following him through a cut in the trees, we come out into a clearing in complete contrast to the dump we just left. Stretches of green fields filled with flowers expand along a dirt path overgrown with brush trodden down by people walking here. It’s pretty.

“So, when did you get back?” Rogue asks.

“A couple days ago,” he mumbles, his large strides eating up the trail. I pick up my pace, half-jogging to keep up. I didn’t sign up for cardio.

“Are you staying?” Her breathing is labored, and I’m glad to know I’m not the only one in need of a gym membership.

“We haven’t decided. It’s probably best if we don’t stick around one place for too long.”

“I’ve told you no one is looking for you.” Rogue exhales, looking over at me.

Shrugging, I throw my hands up. I don’t know what she wants me to do. He won’t believe anything I have to say.

“There’s your mom.” He motions to a picnic table with a lake as its backdrop and a motorcycle parked beside it.

A woman with brown hair pulled up into a bun sits, a cloud of smoke from her cigarette billowing around her like fog on the water. If it weren’t for the cancer stick, the image could be a postcard.

As we draw closer, the woman stands and smiles, her face an older version of Rogue’s, etched with lines of years lived and lessons learned. “Princess.” She opens her arms, and Rogue’s throat bobs as she walks into them.

Their embrace only lasts a second before Rogue pulls away, stuffing her hands into her jean pockets. “How are you, Mom?”

“Great.” Her mom looks up fondly at Bear, and he places a hand on her shoulder. Twigs cracking in the distance and the light buzzing of bugs around us makes my skin itch. If a real bear comes out of the trees, I’m taking the bike. Every person for themselves.

“Let’s sit,” I say, feeling like a third wheel on a date.

“I brought meatball subs if you’re hungry,” Rogue’s mom offers. Usually, I’d eat through the paper to get to a meatball sub, but Diamond’s green slop still sits heavy in my stomach.

“I don’t want food, Mom.” Rogue picks at a carving on the wood table with her nails. It’s someone’s initials and a heart.

“Who’s your friend?” She looks me over, her smile tight. In a striped long-sleeve top and black leather pants with my natural hair pinned back off my face, I look fucking great.

“Kitty. She’s Callan’s sister.”

“Oh right, of course. You’ve sent pictures but her hair was blue.”

Grinning, I hitch a shoulder. “Sometimes.”

“So, Mom, what is it you and Bear want to talk to me about?”

The woman’s face falls, and her hands collapse into her lap. “We thought you’d be alone.”

I’d offer to take a walk, but there’s no way I’m ending up on the news tonight and facing Diamond’s wrath when she comes to drag me back from the afterlife just to berate me for getting myself murdered out here.

“Whatever it is, I’m just going to tell her anyway, so spill.”

“It’s not easy, Princess.”

“Nothing ever is,” Rogue bites out. “But I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”

Bear sweeps his leg over the bench, straddling it. The wood creaks under the strain as he leans forward, curling his arm around Rogue’s mom’s shoulders. “You know I’ve known your mom for a long time.”

“If you’re going to tell me you’re a couple, I already gathered that.” Her foot taps the ground incessantly.

“It’s more than that.” Bear’s brows droop. “Your mom and I were a couple a long time ago, right before she met your dad.”

Oh fuck.I wince and slip my hand into Rogue’s, already sensing what’s about to come.

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