Page 129 of Renegade Ruin

Then I remember my father’s actions have torn apart the memory of his team. They will forever be the Renegades who didn’t deserve their place at the top of the leaderboard. He has every right to be upset with me and the organization.

I freeze in place, cold washing over me despite the balmy Florida night, bracing for whatever version of Bishop I’m about to encounter.

“You’re here,” I whisper in disbelief as he joins me on the balcony.

“I am.” He slides up next to me but instead of facing the ocean, he leans his back against the rail, the sleeve of his hoodie brushing up against my bare skin.

“Are you okay?” I ask, looking up to search his face for any hint of despair and finding nothing but a comforting calm.

His chest rumbles with a half-hearted laugh. “After the day you’ve had, are you seriously worrying about me?”

Of course, I am. That’s what I do.

I frown. “Shouldn’t you be with the team?”

“I came to find our leader,” he says, his lips lifting in a soft smile.

A sardonic laugh falls from my lips, and I focus back on the vast ocean, unable to stand the weight of his stare. “You came to the wrong place then.”

I silently plead for him to relent. To leave me be. But he doesn’t let me hide.

Bishop reaches out, his hand gently wrapping around my biceps, and he tugs me between his legs and against his chest, almost like he knows that’s where I need to be. He buries his nose in the slicked back hair just above my ear and whispers, “I came to find you. Talk to me, Willow.”

Willow. Not Kitten.

I wish I knew what that meant. I don’t know what we are anymore. We’re a stark contrast from the last time the two of us shared this space almost a year ago. He was buried deep inside me while party goers mingled below. I suppose we have an affinity for balconies. And hotel rooms. Maybe it’s not the location at all, but the invisible string that’s managed to wrap itself around us and force us together at every turn.

Still, that doesn’t answer the question of what we are to each other. And right now, I need to know. I need something to hold on to. Not that I’m about to ask him. Mostly because I’m not sure my heart can take any more of a beating if it doesn’t match the Bishop-shaped hole in my chest.

When I don’t answer, he continues, peppering soft kisses to the shell of my ear as he does. “I’m not going to ask if you’re okay. We both know you’re not.”

A visceral sob wracks my body and I melt into him, my tears staining his hoodie. “I’m not.”

His arms tighten around me. “What do you need?”

Every muscle in my body tenses. It’s such a simple question, but it throws me off passing from the lips of the man currently holding me. This version of him is selfish, and rightly so. He’s got walls up to keep his heart safe. But this question is so altruistic and so unique to the Bishop I met on another balcony what feels like a lifetime ago.

It’s a tease.

His grip on me loosens, allowing me to pull back enough to look up at him. My gaze catches on his lips for a fraction of a second, and I consider kissing him to avoid answering. The thought floats away, though, as I remember I promised not to hide things from him.

“I need—” I hesitate even though my mind screams exactly what I want. Him. All of him. It’s not fair to ask for. Not when he wants to distract me, and I want to keep him.

Bishop’s eyes drop to my mouth, his Adam's apple bobbing as he sucks in a breath. “Tell me.”

“You.” I breathe, my eyes connecting with his. “I need you.”

He brings his thumb across my lip and rasps, “Not a distraction.”

Bishop reads me like a damn book.

It’s not a question, but a statement. He sees I’m not completely whole, and while I might want a distraction, that’s not what I need.

My hands shake as I fist his hoodie and he dips his head, urging me to allow him to be the tangible thing I’m desperate to hold on to.

“Say it,” he whispers.

“I need you, not a distraction.”

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