“What do you want, Em?” His tone drops, and here it comes. The irritation that always ensues between him and I when we converse.
My body steels and waits for it, ready for the harsh words and unattached sentiment of my crowding his space. That I’m such a waste of space in his eyes, worthy of none of his time.
“You stood me up.” My jaw begins to tighten to lock away the tears and emotions from forming in my throat. “The least you could’ve done was tell me you weren’t going to make it.”
“Was that another thing you came here for? An apology?”
I almost scoff because we know it’d be a cold day in hell before that occurred.
Just like me wishing I could banish him so far from my brain that I could move on without feeling empty.
Everything about us—Bishop and I—is beyond hopeless.
It’s a fool’s dream.
“You can’t do that.” My voice is barely audible, but I’m not able to raise it. The fight in me is fleeting and almost gone. “You can’t just take off and not tell anyone. You’re family...whether you want me to be or not, but I’m here for you. I’ve always been.”
The last sentence of mine is admission, something I’m working hard on. That my “pushy” manner can come off, as Bishop calls it, “annoying as all fuck”.
So I try to express myself without being bossy or too much.
Nonetheless, sometimes I let my emotions spread thick, coating my good sense, and it comes out wrong.
The sheer heat of Bishop’s chest suddenly rests against my spine, and I draw my eyes shut. “I didn’t pick you to be in my family.” He whispers it close to my ear, causing my whole body to shutter at his proximity and the way his words taunt my dying fantasies. “And we’re over. You don’t get special privileges.”
“Doesn’t make me any less.” I demand myself to inhale, seizing a long and needed hit of oxygen to keep my lungs moving.
“Yes, it does, Princess. Because now…you’re just like everyone else.”
“Fuck you,” I sneer through my clenched jaw, trying to hold on to my calmness that’s diminishing by the second.
“I have.“ Bishop’s breath hits the column of my neck, and I swear if I didn’t have so much adrenaline coursing through me, I might pass the hell out.
This is too much.
I’m annoyingly attracted to his jaded way of thinking. How he’s so negative when I’m so optimistic.
He enraptures me, and I didn’t choose this, but he did.
And I was delusional to believe he’d think of me more as anything else, especially after what he did after he broke up with me.
“Yeah,” I reply, forming my hands into fists at my side. “Then you fucked Blue right afterward. You’re a real piece of shit, so you’ll be sitting right next to me being a nothing.”
“I wasn’t the one who wanted to keep me a dirty little secret.” His hard chest presses harder against my back, my next breath halting in my lungs at his touch. “But I’ll tell you one thing…you were better.”
“Motherfuck—“ Bishop clasps the waistband of my jeans and whirls me around.
My long hair slaps me in the face before somewhat falling back into place around my cheeks.
I fully expect him to move or step back since he’s allegedly so disgusted by me all the time, but he remains right there where we are damn near almost chest to chest. To where I can feel his warm exhales over my face and every bit of nervousness take over my body.
“Last time I checked, Em, you were one of the smartest women I know—most of the time. What part of I don’t need you here, aren’t you understanding?”
“You want to change the subject now?” I solicit as I brace myself to go head-to-head with the most stubborn and arrogant man I’ve ever met in my life. “You piece of shit. Keep rubbing it in my face.”
“You had three years to bring it up, Em. I’m definitely not going to do it now with you. It’s done and over with. Drop it.”
I should drop it.
Leave it.
Tell him good luck and that he can go fuck himself. I brought his adorable ass dog back.
My job is done.
“Then take your own advice and stay out of my life.” The corners of his lips lift into a sinister smirk because he’s aware, just as I, that it can’t be that way.
Not until he fully lets me go.
And when I grow the balls to force him to.
“You done?” Bishop vouches, releasing me but not creating space between us again.
I fucking hate him.
I loathe how he can keep his cool while I’m about to burst.
I despise myself for even making this an ongoing conversation in my brain.
A mirthless chuckle rumbles deep within my chest, and I stay locked on his beautiful blue eyes. “Are you?”
He frowns but quickly rights it. “Have a safe trip home, Em.”
Before he can fully pivot, though, I throw in something that I know will get under his skin, possibly more than I do—unrequested help.
“Oh, just so you’re aware,” I vouch, watching him slowly turn to face me again. “Whatever shit you’re into, the boys will be assisting with all your needs.”
Bishop glowers at me, taking a menacing step back into my safe bubble. “What the fuck did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything.” I lift my shoulder noncommittally. “But I wasn’t the only person you didn’t text back, soooo…good job putting yourself on everyone’s radar.”
“You almost got Marty’s sister killed because you didn’t do enough research on the problem. Why would I want your help?” His words sharply prod the ugly truth into my chest.
He’s right. I messed up.
I told Marty that we were good when he sent Stormi away before breaking down and marrying her. That the coast was completely clear while Eli Montgomery waited to make his move without the protection of Marty and all
