Page 168 of Rebellious

Roxanne gave him an enigmatic look, then headed to the coffee station. “You want me to see who’s visiting or will you?”

Suppose it was Kendall? She might’ve returned to the club to talk to him. Or that stupid motherfucker she married.

The doorbell rang again.

Turning, she sipped her coffee and met his gaze. “Kendall’s not back yet.”

A noise escaped him and his eyes flared in surprise.

“Get the fucking door, motherfucker. And don’t fucking think about lying. I got a fucking nose and I know your fucking cologne.”

“Roxanne—”

“Get the door!” she snarled.

Swallowing, he slid out of the chair, his head hung. By the time he opened the door, Bunny was almost to the main walkway.

“Bunny?” he called.

She turned and lifted a covered plate, walking closer. “I brought breakfast to you.”

He forced himself to smile. “I appreciate it.

She handed him the foil-wrapped plate.

“How you and my brother doing?” Mort blew out a heavy breath. “How you doing, baby?” That was the most important question. Digger had fucked up. “If you need anything, I’m here. That fool lucky to have you.”

“We’re in a much better place,” Bunny said. “I’ve forgiven him and he swears he’ll never do anything like that again. Right now though, he’s worried about you. He hasn’t talked to you since Sunday morning.”

Guiltily, Mort hadn’t thought about his brother since Sunday morning. “I’ll call him later.”

“Do that. I have to get back to Gunner. He’s with Bishop right now, but it’s almost time for his nap.”

“Okay.”

She hugged him. “Bye, Mort.”

He watched her leave. She did look happier, more at peace. He closed the door and then stared at it, remembering all the times Bailey walked into the house, anxious to tell him about her day or make up “pretend” stories so she could share information about her patients without violating HIPAA.

Turning, he walked back to the kitchen. Roxanne was sitting at the table, and his cigarette had burned itself out. He wouldn’t bother with another one.

“Where’s your baton?” he asked, trying to break the ice when what he’d done was inexcusable.

She glanced away.

“I’m sorry, Roxanne. You don’t know how much I regret what I did.”

“It doesn’t change what the fuck happened.”

“I know. And I…don’t turn your back on Kendall.”

“If I would’ve turned my back on her, I wouldn’t have let her in my fucking house,” she snapped. “I recognized your fucking cologne on her immediately.”

Fuck, man, she sounded like a disgruntled librarian, ready to beat his ass and lock him in a fucking closet. He lumbered forward, heavy-hearted and heavy limbed, and sat across from her. He no longer deserved a spot at the head of the table. “I’ve never…”

“Been a fucking cheater?”

Shame poured into him.