The bed depressed behind me, and I rolled over, the sudden intrusion taking me by surprise. It was Bishop. He was wearing a t-shirt and shorts, his hair wet and sleep in his eyes. “Are you okay, Amber?”
I nodded as another crack of thunder filled the air at the same time. I jumped, and Bishop grabbed me, pulling me into him and resting us both back on the pillows. He pulled the covers up to ward off the chill of the basement and held me while I shook in his arms. It was ridiculous that I still shook with fear over a simple thunderstorm, but I’d learned years ago I could fight against it and be a nervous wreck for the entire summer, or I could let it flow over me while I was safe and away from everyone else, and be fine the next day. That was the only option that let me keep my sanity and live my life. It was also the reason I never went to Florida with my parents. Storms happen year-round down there. You can forget about it.
He rubbed my back soothingly and stroked my hair, holding me against his chest in silence until the storm slowed, and the claps of thunder became farther apart and with less intensity. Slowly and with more confidence, my exhausted body relaxed against him, and my heart slowed. I pulled an earplug out and gazed up at him from where I rested on his warm chest.
“I thought you were mad at me,” I said, relieved that the fogginess of my brain when the storms hit was already starting to recede. Maybe it was because someone was there to share the burden with me.
“Being upset,” he said, stressing the word, “doesn’t erase or overrule the rest of my emotions, tart. I can be upset and still have empathy. I can be upset and still love someone enough not to let them suffer alone.”
My hand came up to stroke his soft beard, the whiskers tickling my skin and keeping me calm as I gazed into his beautiful, but aggrieved, green eyes. “You’re a good man, Bishop Halla,” I whispered, dropping my hand from his cheek to his chest. “I owe you an apology.”
He shifted uncomfortably on the bed, and I realized he was almost falling off it. I sat up and let him move closer and then rested on the pillow, face-to-face. I was secretly relieved when he kept his hand on my waist, especially when the thunder cracked overhead again. “The storms are heading out over the lake. I checked before I came down. Nothing severe. Just a few heat of the day thunderboomers. They’re almost done.”
I nodded my head slowly, knowing the look that was in my eye. “I’m sorry for being like this. I can’t fight against it anymore, Bishop. It’s too hard to be that anxious and worried all day every day. I tried the medications, but I hated feeling like a zombie all the time. If I hide away like a child when the storms arrive, at least I can function the rest of the time. Some things will always set me off, though. You can’t blindside me with plans unexpectedly. I have to be involved in making any plans during the summer. If I hear people talking about storms or the news reporting about them, I have to leave. A loud motorcycle will make me cover my ears instantly. Fireworks are out forever. Those things will always be there. I can’t change that part of my brain. I’ve tried it.”
He grasped my waist, and his thumb trailed up and down my hipbone. “Don’t,” he said, shaking his head. “Don’t defend yourself to me. You aren’t a child, but you suffer because of what happened to you as a child. There is a difference. Hold your head high, Amber Halla. You are strong. You are resilient. You have overcome so many challenges, and protecting yourself down here, or anywhere, does not require an explanation—to me or anyone else. Do you understand?”
“You really don’t understand how my life works, Bishop. I’m not strong and resilient. I’m just a scared, broken thirteen-year-old girl in a scared, broken thirty-year-old body. I wish it weren’t true, but I can’t lie to myself or you about the truth any longer.”
His hand cupped my cheek, and his thumb strayed to my lips to stroke them tenderly. My lips puckered and kissed it without a conscious thought from me. He smiled and then spoke. “I’m just a scared sixteen-year-old boy finding out he’s going to be a father in a scared thirty-four-year-old man’s body, wondering if I did a good enough job. Now, that scared thirty-four-year-old wonders if he’s doing right by the woman he would die for in the blink of an eye. He failed tonight, and fear spoke rather than love.”
I tipped my head into his hand. “What do you mean you failed tonight?”
“I let the worry and fear I have about your leg make me stick my nose in where it didn’t belong.”
I let out a breath, and my chest collapsed on itself. “This is what I’m talking about, Bishop. You said what you said out of concern for me. My reaction to that was what didn’t belong. I knew it as soon as you walked away. Brady shot me a look of total disappointment before he followed you. Hay-Hay told me I had better be careful, or I was going to push you away. She said she could see how much you love me every time you look at me.”
His smile was soft, and when I gazed into his eyes,
