Page 53 of Renegade Ruin

He snorts and shakes his head. “Hard pass. Did you think about my proposition?”

“Nope, not until you answer me first.”

Bishop’s hard stare is as unwavering as my own. Tension crackles between us, neither willing to budge. Several seconds go by, and his chocolate eyes burn a hole straight through me as his jaw flexes. That’s when I realize we can’t keep circling each other. It isn’t helping anyone, least of all us.

I take a step toward him, to which Bishop responds by taking a step back.

“Are you really not going to say anything?”

Another step for each of us.

“What do you want me to say?”

Another step. Only this time, Bishop is greeted by the rattling of bats as his back hits the rack.

A moment of silence stretches between us, but it’s not enough to break the chasm of tension that sits in the mere inches separating us.

I tip my head, unwilling to back down now.“Tell me why you walked out. Prove to me you want this distraction to continue, because I can’t agree unless we’re in this together. You use me. I use you. But we have to talk to one another. I won’t just be a fuck toy.”

Bishop lets out a scoff, but I don’t miss the hurt that flashes across his face. “Is that what you think I see you as?”

“Prove me wrong.” There’s no mistaking thechallenge in my voice, but if you asked my heart, it would say it’s more of a plea.

From the moment he asked for one more night, there was a part of me that wanted to say yes. I hadn’t realized how big that part was until just now. But if I’m going to do this, I need to be more than just a one-night stand. It’s playing with fire. It’s asking to get hurt. If I’m going to do this, I need to know that I’m making a difference. I want to be his distraction, but I also want to know why he needs it. I wanthimto know why he needs it.

Bishop opens his mouth to speak but pauses, rubbing a hand down his face for a second before meeting my gaze. “The deal was physical, not honesty.”

“Then there’s nothing for us to discuss,” I say softly and turn my back on him.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters low enough that I can barely make out the words.

I pause mid-step and wait for him to continue. When he doesn’t, I look over my shoulder at his slumped shoulders and vacant stare. “Me too.”

“I just—” His voice trails off and I turn around, watching as he chews on whatever words he is trying to piece together. “You want the truth? Yesterday was Tommy’s birthday.”

My breath stalls in my chest as I see Bishop’s eyes darken with defeat. I close the space between us and take his forearm in my hand. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“He would’ve been thirty,” he says softly. He stares over my head at the spot I previously occupied as he still clings to me, sliding his arm so our fingers intertwine.

I give him a soft squeeze, encouraging him to continue.

“I don’t know how to play without them. I don’t know how to walk into the locker room and not see their ghosts. Listening to you talk about them like they aren’t a part of this team anymore—” He hesitates, and I’m left hanging on his every word.Savoring the pieces of himself he’s giving me. “They might not be important to you or everyone else, but they’re all I’ve ever known. I don’t know how to be me without them. Fuck. This is why I came to you.” He blinks and when he opens his eyes, they are locked on mine. “This is why I—Shit, I shouldn’t have dragged you into this.” He runs his free hand through his already tousled hair, and it takes everything in me not to wrap my arms around him and promise everything is going to be okay. Because I can’t promise that. As much as I would like to, I won’t lie to him.

“I’m sorry for my outburst. I shouldn’t have taken this out on you in the middle of your speech. It wasn’t what I wanted to do. I just needed to get out of there. I needed space to breathe. I just—” Bishop’s chest heaves as he tries, and fails, to inhale deeply. “Does it ever stop?”

“What?”

“The pain,” he clarifies, then adds, “is it the same as when your mom died?”

I swallow hard, stalling as I try to filter through the truth of his question. He wants an answer, but nothing I have to say is going to help. Not really.

“Yes. And no. Losing a parent is the hardest thing I’ve ever experienced.” It’s an answer I’ve rehearsed over and over. It’s what I tell the kids at Renegade Hearts and the press when they ask. But for Bishop, I elaborate. “But, as much as I love my mother, it doesn't change that she was terrible toward me. My dad and I were much closer, especially in the last few years. Losing him hurts infinitely more.”

“I’m sorry you lost him.”

I’m stunned, frozen into place. I’m two for two on apologies today. Except, unlike when Carson offered his condolences, when Bishop says his first real apology, the tears fall freely.

Bishop is quiet for a moment, and I pray he doesn’t ask the question I know he's dying to. It’s the same question I asked my father over and over. The same question I ask myself on the rare occasion I allow myself to open the box I’ve got locked away tight in my mind and to grieve.

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