34. Road Trip
ROAD TRIP
KITTY
I search the crowd as I maneuver past the kid pool to find the lounger I’d been occupying, hoping not to find Cutter.
My phone is still on the ground next to my abandoned beer bottle and sunscreen.
Music pumps from massive speakers, and people are dancing and having a good time, making it easy to slip by unnoticed.
I don’t know if it’s because the air is cooler or I feel raw, but a chill blankets me, and exhaustion creeps into my bones.
Looking at my phone causes my stomach to clench. Cutter’s name comes up numerous times, but I don’t have the energy to look at the texts.
“Hey, where have you been?” Diamond comes up beside me. Rocco is clutched around her waist, his head resting on her shoulder, asleep.
“I had something I needed to do,” I lie.
My eyes burn at the sight of Rocco. I can’t be around while Claire is pregnant with Cutter’s kid again.
It will destroy what little soul I have left.
“Why do you have him?” I shouldn’t ask, the answer will only cause more pain, but I’m a glutton for punishment.
“Cutter asked me to watch him, but it was hours ago. He didn’t seem happy with Claire’s announcement and marched her off inside.” Her face tilts to the side, her lips pulling into a half-smile. “How are you dealing with this news?”
By distracting myself so I don’t die. I want to go with honesty, but my pride won’t let me. “I don’t care if they have another kid. It’s not me raising it.” I fucking care too much.
“Okay.” She doesn’t look convinced but lets it rest.
“I’m heading inside. The sun has given me a headache,” I tell her, managing a smile.
“Drink plenty of water,” she calls after me.
“If you mean wine, then I’m on it,” I retort.
Back in my room, I kick my sneakers off, noticing the blood splatter for the first time.
Dammit.
The image of Rogue stabbing Trevor manifests behind my eyes. Monster left to go get answers from him, and Rogue told me she’d text once they have them.
Monster’s doing the world a service. Knowing a man is in the process of being tortured right now is a little creepy, but I don’t feel sorry for him. He’s a perverted psychopath.
I turn on the water for the shower, and images of Cutter and me in here this morning flutter to the forefront of my mind with searing clarity.
Our naked bodies writhing against the wall.
Heat, passion, and love flowed from us in a beautiful dance, and now, not even twenty-four hours later, it’s all gone to shit.
Sorrow settles like a blanket of snow in my chest.
Peeling away the layers of clothing, I step inside, surrendering to the downpour of water.
My fingertips flit a familiar routine across my body, scrubbing away the memory of this morning until I’m red, raw, and shaking.
No matter how much I try, I can’t wash away the deep ache sitting beneath the surface.
My tears, like my hope, wash down the drain.
I feel so lost. Loneliness and anger bear down on me, the weight paralyzing. How could he let this happen again?
Turning off the water, I grab a towel and dry myself, then slip into a pair of tight black jeans, a ripped tee, and leather boots before combing my hair and leaving my face makeup free. In a haze, my feet carry me to the bar, my mind commanding me not to think.
Propping myself on a stool, I relish the quiet inside.
There are some brothers and ol’ ladies loitering in the halls, but most are still outside, and only me and Green are in the bar.
He’s asleep across three chairs pushed together, his feet dangling off the end, his head in an awkward position at the other end.
It looks uncomfortable, but he’s snoring like it’s a fluffy mattress.
Taking out my phone, I inhale a deep breath and open the unread messages from Cutter, noticing six missed calls from his number too.
Cutter: Where are you? It’s not mine, Kit.
Cutter: Answer your phone.
Cutter: Let me at least explain. I DIDN’T KNOW SHE WAS GOING TO DO THIS.
Cutter: Where are you?
Cutter: Please answer your phone.
Cutter: I love you, Kit.
My heart pounds in my ears, and my hands tremble, almost dropping the phone. He said it’s not his. How can he know for sure? And who is she sleeping with if it’s not his?
I can believe he didn’t know she was going to announce it today. He wouldn’t have made promises about ripping off my shorts moments before otherwise. That was a promise he intended to keep—then boom, a crack split my chest in two.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” As if my thoughts summoned him, Cutter’s voice carries across the room, settling over me like an old comfort blanket, one that’s tattered and ruined, but you can’t bear to throw out even if the threads are thorns tearing away at your skin every time you curl beneath it.
“I didn’t know she was going to fucking do that.” My pulse beats a little faster the closer his voice becomes. “It was news to me too, Kit.” The world around us fades into obscurity.
“Talk to me,” he begs, his scent wrapping around me as he comes to stand right beside me.
“Diamond has your kid out there. She’s not a nanny,” I snap.
“The baby isn’t mine,” he states, and I want to believe it more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
“How can you know that?” I laugh without humor, my face pinching in pain. Please don’t cry.
“Let’s go to your room and talk.” Those blue eyes bore into the side of my damn head.
“No.” I slam my hand on the bar. “Just fucking tell me here.” I can’t stand to be in my room—not when the walls echo of everything that’s us together.
My phone chirps in my other hand, startling me. My nerves are frayed, and he’s holding a match to them.
Rogue: We have the answers. Meet in the garage.
That was quick.
“I have to go.” Slipping from my stool, I brush past him, fighting the urge to punch him and throw my arms around him in the same breath. My soul aches to reunite with his, and it’s only been a few hours. I won’t survive losing us again.
“Kit, we’re not done,” he calls after me.
“I have to go.”
“Go where?” His feet pound behind mine up the corridor toward the garage.
“Are you going out?” he asks, a touch of confusion and curiosity in his tone.
“Yes,” I throw over my shoulder.
“Where?”
“None of your business.” I turn to face him while continuing my pace backward. “Why would she say it was yours if it isn’t?”
“Because she’s a bitch. That’s nothing new.”
Pushing through the door to the garage, I head for the SUV with the engine already running.
“You need to hear me out,” Cutter demands.
Yanking the back passenger door open, I climb in and slam it closed. Monster is in the driver’s seat with Rogue taking up the passenger side. Both sets of eyes peer over at me. “Everything okay?” Monster asks.
“Yeah, just drive.” Before Monster can put the SUV into drive, the other back door opens, and Cutter folds himself inside.
“What the hell are you doing?” I shout.
“We’re talking now, Kit. I’m not letting this ruin everything we have. I meant what I said. This is the real deal. Nothing in existence will prevent me from being with you, so go wherever the fuck it is you’re going. I’ll come to.”
“Your wife and kid are in there.” I jerk my head toward the clubhouse.
“You’re in here,” he grinds out through clenched teeth.
Seeming to notice the other two occupants for the first time, he frowns. “Where are you all going?”
“Wedding stuff,” Rogue says sharply. “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer you fix the shit storm you created on your own time.”
“I do mind,” he retorts, staring at the back of Monster’s head like it’s a foreign object. “Did Callan make you go with them?” he asks Monster.
“No, I’m a bridesmaid.” Monster lifts his eyes to the rearview mirror, the side of his mouth tipping up.
“Just drive. He can walk back,” I state, folding my arms.
“It’s an overnight trip, Kit,” Rogue says, looking back at me, trying to convey what she isn’t saying through her eyes.
“I’m not fucking leaving until Kitty and I have talked. Either you drive or we stay right here,” he informs Rogue. Visions of her stabbing Cutter like she did Trevor spring to mind. She’s such a badass. If I had her strength, maybe I’d have stabbed Cutter years ago when he first broke my heart.
“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that? I warned you about hurting her, and how long did it take before your bullshit started again?” she swears through gritted teeth, leaning over and swatting at him with open palms.
“It’s not my baby!” he roars, smashing his fist into the side of the door. “I haven’t fucked Claire.” He implores, covering his face with his other hand to stop her attack.
She retreats and silence rings like an alarm through the car, everyone tense and breathing heavily.
Hasn’t fucked her since when?
Then Monster asks, “Are we going or staying?”
Rogue exhales roughly, throwing her hands up. “Looks like he’s coming with us.”
“Are you done attacking me?” his hand hovers by his face with caution.
“That depends on how the talk pans out.” She threatens, as I look away to smile.
We drive in silence for what feels like forever.
I stare out the window to distract myself from Cutter’s gaze.
I feel him watching me, and my body wants to betray me and go to him.
Needy little slut. The sun is setting, bleeding the last of its glow over the swaying trees, dancing to the command of the light wind.
“I thought you wanted to talk.” Rogue raises a brow, glaring at Cutter through the rearview mirror.
“I do.”
“So talk,” she dares him.
Exhaling through his nose, he shifts in his seat. “Nothing has changed.” He reaches out and turns my head to look at him. The touch leaves a blaze of fire in its wake. “Claire made one last-ditch effort to try to keep us together, but it’s not my kid.”
“Whose kid is it?” I ask, not sure I’m ready to believe him.
“Some kid she gets to mow her lawn.” He scrunches his nose, and it creases the bruises left from Callan’s beating.
“Is that sex terminology?” Rogue asks, still watching in the rearview mirror. “Mow her lawn?”
“No.” Gripping Monster’s headrest, he angles himself to speak to us both. “She fucked some kid she pays to do her gardening.”
What the actual hell?
“When you say, kid”—Monster starts, joining the conversation—“what do you mean?”
“I mean, seventeen years old.” He shakes his head.
And now, I’m dead.
“Are you bullshitting us?” I ask in disbelief. Claire is an attractive woman. She could fuck whoever she wanted within reason, and Cutter is incredible in bed. To go from him to a kid makes zero sense.
“I wish I was, but I kid you not.” Tension leaves his eyes.
“Seventeen?” Rogue says aloud, but it’s not a question. It’s a way for her brain to come to terms with the information.
“Why is your wife fucking anyone but you?” Monster grunts.
“Because we’re not together,” he says, taking my hand. “I promise you. This has nothing to do with me. It changes nothing. Rocco is my son, and we will co-parent him. But other than that, it’s over.”
“How do you know it’s his and not yours though?” Monster queries.
“Because we’re not together! Am I speaking another language or something? Why the fuck are you getting involved anyway?”
“You got in the car.” He says deadpan.
“Fine, just so everyone is on the same page. She’s a couple of months pregnant and I haven’t fucked her for the kid to be mine. It’s impossible.”
My heart settles, and silence falls over the car until Rogue squeals, “Seventeen?”
Before Monster grunts, “You haven’t fucked your wife in two months?”
A chorus of laughter rings out, and I feel like I can breathe again.