Page 55 of Castling the Rook (Checkmate 3)

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Riley

Home Has Never Been So Lonely

My phone is silent. Eerily, dead silent for the whole week after Dee goes home. I get the odd text from her; Mia’s a bitch, Timmy’s hilarious, Steve –who the fuck is Steve?– is hitting on her. But I get no late night phone calls, no good morning texts, and no phone-sex like she promised.

Andrea Conner has gone back to her world, and I’m over here living mine while I pretend my heart hasn’t gone and gotten invested.

My mom is feeling better, and when anyone would ask, she’d declare my soup to be that of miracles and rainbow farts. My lunch remains where I put it each day, since we found out my too-straight-to-be-dirty boss is the thief and not at all apologetic about his actions. And my cell remains free of Special Agent contact.

Kane Bishop is silent.

Eric DeWhit is silent.

And Jay Bishop isn’t doing so well.

I walk in my front door at the end of another day and drop my keys on the side table beneath my rack of hats. Ninja doesn’t meet me at the door like normal; she’s busy being fed and spoiled. “Hello?”

“Yeah.” A grunt is all I get from my guest. A grunt, and groaning as he works to sit up on my couch. “Welcome home, darling. I wish I’d known you were coming; I would’ve powdered my nose.”

“Yeah.” Rolling my eyes, I walk into my living room and ignore the filth and smell of sweat he leaves behind. Jay Bishop is detoxing hard. Addicted to cocaine, booze, nicotine, and fuck knows what else, he’s been in my home since the night Andi flew away, trying not to die, but begging me to put a bullet in his brain every day that his hands shake. He doesn’t want to go to a rehab center. He doesn’t want to go back to the house he shares with his brother.

He wants to die, or he wants to be all better; there is no middle ground for him.

So I force that middle ground. I welcomed him in at midnight when he knocked on my door, brought blankets out to the living room when he refused to sleep in the spare bedroom, help him through his withdrawals, fish his tongue out of his throat whenever needed, and clear my house of special brownies, ibuprofen, alcohol, and guns until he’s ready to rejoin society.

And all the while, I keep him hidden, because if my boss knocks on my front door, I’m in big fucking trouble.

“How you feeling, Jay? You ready to call your people yet? I know your brother is worried.”

“You trying to get rid of me?” Sitting forward on the couch, he rests his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. Six and a half feet of brawn and wide shoulders, Jay Bishop tries to smile, but it mostly comes out like a grimace. “Because that hurts my feelings. I thought we were bros.” His eyes come up. “You got a smoke?”

“No. How’d you do today? Did you eat?”

Shrugging, he scratches Ninja’s back as she slinks between his legs. “Wasn’t hungry. Had work to do.”

“Jay, fuck, man. You gotta eat.” I turn toward my kitchen and head to the fridge to serve upmiracle-soup. Ninja’s collar jingles as she follows me in at a trot, and when we’re gone, Jay flops back to the couch with a pain filled grunt. “There are other options, man.” I pull a container of chicken soup from my fridge and toss it into the microwave. “Sitting on my couch with a spew bucket isn’t the only way. I could get you into a rehab place where people actually know what they’re doing. They can help you come down properly.”

“I can’t go. There’s too much going on, and I’m not leavin’ my brother.”

“Well you’re not with him either, dumbass. You’re in my house, and he’s at his apartment.”

“He’s with his blonde. He’s safe.” He sniffs. “She’s a fuckin’ spitfire, and they’re in love, so they’ll keep each other safe.”

“How do you know where he is?” I walk to the doorway between rooms and stop. Jay lies back with his legs splayed wide open and his head resting on the back of the couch. Staring at the ceiling, he yawns and crushes his fists closed. “How do you know where he is? Did you go out?”

“Yup. I wanted to make sure he was good, and I got a tip on something I had to check out. I’ve been busy today.”

“Why don’t you call him?”

He shrugs. “He’d worry.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, because being missing won’t worry him.” I turn back to the kitchen when the microwave dings. “He’s out looking for you, and you make him worry.”

“I’ll call him in a bit, promise.”

Liar. He’s been saying that for days.

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