Page 98 of Renegade Ruin

Life’s too short.

“Alright.” Lana gives another small squeeze and heads for the door. “If there’s nothing else you need from me, I think I’m going to go take that nap. You girls have fun.”

“Enjoy,” I say, waving after her, my mind on the verge of spiraling once again.

Life’s too short.

The truth haunts me and spurs me forward at the same time.

Thank goodness only a few moments pass before Phoebe comes bounding into the room with a brush and a hair tie, ready for me to braid her hair.

“I just had the best idea,” she declares, taking up her seat next to me and handing me the hair tools.

Turning to face her, I gently start to brush her hair. “What’s that?”

“I’ll wear Dad’s jersey and you can wear Uncle Bishop’s!” she exclaims.

The way she says it so matter-of-factly leads me to believe she’s been working through this problem the entire time she was in her room getting ready.

“That’s…um…” I stumble, trying to come up with a reason I couldn't possibly wear Bishop’s jersey, knowing damn well I’m not about to say no to this little girl.

“We can be twins!” Phoebe yells, bouncing in her seat and making it impossible to untangle her brown locks.

Fuck. I can’t do this.

I shouldn’t be the one twinning with her.

Norah, I never knew you, but give me strength to survive your daughter's innocence.

Phoebe’s excitement is infectious, and despite the fact it’s probably a terrible idea to wear the jersey of any of my players—especially the one I’m fucking on the side—I find myself agreeing to her little plan.

“Uncle Bishop is going to be so excited to see you in his jersey,” Phoebe proclaims.

I’m thankful she’s facing away from me and can’t see my grimace.

Bishop is going to be something, that’s for sure.

I can only hope his soft spot for Phoebe is greater than his contempt for me.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

BISHOP

“Are we okay?”

I glance up at Ford McCoy, our third baseman, as I hit the end of my bat against the bottom of my cleat for the tenth time instead of warming up my swing.

Yes. No.

Fuck.

How do I tell him his confession the day before sent me into a spiral that landed me in Willow’s office, needing a distraction, which resulted in not only finding out she threw me under the bus but also unlocked a web of feelings I swore I wouldn’t have for our owner?

The answer?

I don’t because none of it is his fault.

Jackson snorts in my head.Look at you being all grown up and mature about this.

---