Page 89 of Choices
“Will you come with me when the time comes?”
Yes…of…course…Did my lips move?Yes…yes…
“Get out.” Rogue’s voice pushes through the fog in my brain. I force my eyes open. The lids feel stuck, the lashes weighing them down. She’s by the door talking to someone.
“I need to know she’s okay.”
Cutter.
“Youneed to know. Knowing is for your own peace of mind. It has nothing to do with what she needs.”I love her.
“Rogue.” Her name comes out strained, desperate.
“No. I don’t usually get involved, but everything that’s happened to her always leads back to you. She’s black and blue, her hands are shredded, her heart is in pieces, and you’re the reason every fucking time.”
“I know. I fucking know that, and I’m sorry.” He sounds broken.
“Are you?” She glares at him, folding her arms over her chest.
“Rogue, it’s okay. Let him in,” I croak out, pushing myself up on the bed to rest on the pillows in a half sitting-up position.
She turns her gaze to mine and closes her eyes, blowing out a frustrated breath. “Kit, you need to rest.”
“I’ll be okay, I promise,” I assure her.
“Fine.” She pushes the door farther open, allowing him inside. “But I’m warning you…” she jabs a finger into Cutter’s ribcage as he attempts to pass by her, “if you do anything else to fuck with her, I’ll reopen the wound I stitched shut for you.”
“That’s fair,” he says, dipping his head like a scorned child.
“None of this is fair. Just figure your fucking life out and do the right thing for once.”
With that, she pins me once more with a disappointed look, then she’s gone and Cutter swallows all the air from the room. “I’m so sorry, Kit.” His body deflates like a popped balloon, releasing all his energy out in a single exhale.
“For what?”
“Everything.” He brushes his hand through his blond locks and sits on the end of the bed near my feet, facing the goldfish. “I don’t know how we ended up here.” He looks over his shoulder at me then turns away, like it’s too painful to see me like this.
“Your wife, for one.” I scoff, then immediately regret bringing her up. I don’t want to be bitter anymore.
“The night you brought Nicolas here, I found him in the game room trying to rape Claire,” he says openly.
My heart pounds against my ribs. “What?” My mind trips. The wires try to connect and make sense of what he’s telling me.Nicolas was a bit grabby, but rape?
“All I could think was that could have been you in there with him. His hands on you.” There’s so much anger and pain in his voice, a manifestation of fear.
“He didn’t do anything to me,” I assure him.
“But he could have. The little prick started hurling pool balls at me and running his mouth. He was an entitled asshole, but I didn’t mean to kill him.” Conviction shines in his blues as they find mine before turning back to the fish.
“What happened?” I implore.
Standing, he taps the side of the fish tank with his finger, creases drawing down his brow. “I threw a ball back at him, and it killed him. Lights out.”
“Oh my god.”
“It was so fucked, and Claire knew who the Carnells were and witnessed me killing the fucking kid.” His voice raises, the veins in his arms straining against his skin.
“For her. You killed him for her. He would have raped her. You saved her,” I say, demanding he recognizes that.
