Page 106 of Renegade Ruin

BISHOP: I’ll call you after we leave the care facility. You better be in bed without a stitch of clothing.

WILLOW: Yes, daddy.

BISHOP: Fuck me.

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

BISHOP

“Stop fucking crying,” Jackson snaps at me, and I’m thankful he’s got one arm wrapped around Phoebe and the other doesn’t have anything within reach to chuck at my head.

Honestly, I would stop if I could, but every time I see his lip moving and realize his voice is not in my head, I can’t stop my damn eyes from leaking.

“Swear jar, Dad,” Phoebe squeaks, pulling her feet up further onto the hospital bed. She snuggles into her dad’s side.

Jackson leans over and presses a kiss to the top of her mousey brown hair and my heart clenches.

My best friend might be underweight with dark purple circles beneath his eyes, but the smile that splits his face every time he looks at Phoebe is like hitting a grand slam. You feel the weight of it in your soul. Only this grand slam comes with a side of the ump calling it foul instead of fair—because there is one Roberts missing.

It’s the invisible elephant in the room that Jackson refuses to acknowledge. He had seven hours alone with doctors and nurses to process the news of the crash and his condition. That’s seven hours to spiral and lock away the parts that feel like they’re going to rip him from the inside out. Seven hours to decide whatthe world gets to see. Jackson decided to take the route of the Olympic sprinter—running from the feelings like he can escape them.

Since we arrived, he’s used Phoebe as a shield—not wanting to upset her by talking about Norah’s death—which is comical, considering Phoebe has handled her mother’s passing better than the rest of us.

After the doctors updated us on his extensive road to recovery, including mental and physical therapies, Jackson has focused any and all conversation on us. What is Phoebe learning in school? Is Lana still participating in book club? Did the bodega down the street from their apartment raise enough money through their Kickstarter to remain open? Did I end up divorced?

Lana finally had enough of the pussyfooting and decided she needed a shower. She offered to pick up dinner from Jackson’s favorite Thai restaurant. She tried to take Phoebe with her, but Jackson wasn’t about to let his daughter out of his sight.

If I had just woken up and learned I lost my wife and team, I wouldn’t want to lose sight of the one thing I had left in this world either.

Is that why you want to pick up your phone and text Willow?Tommy chides, and instead of acknowledging his observation, I silently wonder if I’ll only hear his voice now that Jackson is awake.

I close my eyes to hide the tears that once again threaten to leak from the corners of my eyes.

“Tell me about the team, Bish,” Jackson presses, unable to let silence fall over the room for more than a few moments at a time.

Blinking my eyes rapidly, I force a half smile while trying to decide where to start. So much of my own spiral is woven in the fabric of our team. I don’t need him to know the depths to whichI fell, especially when he’s fighting to keep his own head above water.

Fortunately—or maybe unfortunately—Phoebe takes my hesitation as her cue to insert herself into the conversation.

“Uncle Bish has a girlfriend,” she sputters, like she’s been dying to share the information.

I glare at the little girl who holds my heart and mouth, “Traitor.”

Her grin confirms she knew exactly what she was doing.

“A girlfriend, huh?” Jackson raises an eyebrow and tips his mouth into a smug smile. “That didn’t take long.”

Fuck. This is the last topic I want to discuss with him. Not when Norah is gone and I have no idea what the hell I’m feeling for the woman we’re talking about.

So, I deny it’s even a thing.

“She’s not my girlfriend,”I declare, running a hand through my too long hair.

“That’s not what Nana thinks,” Phoebe quips, ignoring the glare I give her.

That’s it. No more donuts for her. Or Lana. She should know better than to have any conversations in front of this sponge of a little girl.

I press my palm over my eyes and shake my head.

---