Page 221 of Ruptured

The goddamnMiddle Ages?

What the fuck was wrong with Rebel?

No, scratch that. Christopher knew. It was spoiled bitchery. She was old enough to know the difference between right and wrong. Old enough to understand life and death. SheknewDiesel’s life was on the line and she fucked with him anyway. She didn’t want Diesel. She wanted her fucking way.

CJ thought maybe it was because she no longer believed Christopher would actually kill Diesel after she’d almost died. Once Diesel sent her on her way, Christopher had gotten up, intending to ground her for the rest of her fucking life.

She fucking hated him? He’d given her a genuine reason to.

CJ begged him to reconsider and reminded him that Rebel was angry over Christopher’s treatment of Megan. If he confronted Rebel, she’drebel.And, his boy pointed out, it might piss off Mom, too.

In the end, the concession worked out fine. Diesel needed affirmation when he did well. Punishments were only effective if good behavior was rewarded. One without the other either turned into cruelty or enabling, and produced fucked up results.

After Diesel left, Christopher tried to enter his and Megan’s bedroom but found the door locked.

At loose ends, he arranged to meet with Derby later that evening and headed to the hospital to spend time with Jo.

Other than a small setback, his baby girl was doing so fucking good. Had she stayed put, she either would’ve been a newborn or near delivery.

Studying Jo’s little face, admiring her black hair, Christopher couldn’t fucking believe he’d threatened to give her away.Hislove for his youngest child aside,Meganloved her.

Fuck, no wonder both Megan and Rebel wanted to drive a stake through his heart. It was easy to have his ass on his shoulders when he blocked out all he’d said and done.Still, Meganalwaysforgave him. Even during her pussy lockouts, she allowed him to sleep next to her.

He was tired and grouchy because he didn’t have her near him.

Pain in the ass lil’ motherfucker.

Gritting his teeth, Christopher focused on his daughter and finished feeding her. He didn’t want his fucked up emotions to affect her, so he laid her on his shoulder, stood, and began walking with her, smiling at her burp.

Babies really were little miracles.

Cradling her, he began singing—a loose interpretation of the sound he made but what the fuck ever—and staring into her eyes, hoping she understood how much he loved her. It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep, so he laid her back in her panda cart, nodded to the nurses, and walked out.

Because Megan and Rebel were home, only Digger, Mort, Val, and Stretch waited for him in the waiting area.

Doc Will glided into view, dressed in scrubs, a stethoscope around her neck. She halted at seeing them and lifted a brow, her usual friendliness missing.

Megan probably called Roxanne, who, in turn, told Doc Will.

“I been meanin’ to meet up with you, doc,” Christopher said, ignoring her attempt to vaporize his ass. “To talk to you about Megan.”

“Instead of talking about her, maybe you should talk to her,” she retorted.

“I can’t talk to that lil’ pain in the ass motherfucker if she lockin’ me out the fuckin’ room.”

“You have a phone. Use it.”

“Megan shouldna called Roxanne. It’s between me and her.”

“Meggiedidn’t call her,” Doc Will said heatedly. “Rebel called Roxy. Meggie calledme. How dare you threaten togive her children away!”

Christopher didn’t ever remember her losing her temper. “I ain’t meant it, doc.”

“Then you shouldn’t have said it. Maybe if you hadn’t blamed her for the Fall of Rome and every other catastrophe known to mankind, she wouldn’t believe your intentions.”

Christopher released an agitated breath. “Your fuckin’ exaggerations unnecessary,” he said sourly.

Drawing herself up, she fisted her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Ask me your question, Mr. Caldwell.”