Page 9 of I Stop Somewhere Waiting For You

“Um, apparently I missed the part where you had a meet and greet with your big bro’s competition!”

“Yo!” I stop, spinning to face her head on. “Nicky does not know about it, okay? It was nothing. His girlfriend was coked out on the bathroom floor, and I returned her to him. That’s all. You know how Nick gets with me. I don’t need him on a tear over some stupid social exchange that’s barely worth remembering, let alone mentioning. Are we understood?”

“Okay! Okay!” Her hands fly up in defense. “Fine. If you say it’s nothing, then it’s nothing.”

We resume walking, and after a moment the tension recedes. Daph loops her arm through mine once again, and I feel her shoulders relax. “So,” she begins, eyeing me cautiously from the side, “is he as hot up close as he is from a distance?”

I snort, which elicits a hearty chuckle from Daphne. Releasing a deep breath, I roll my eyes to the side to meet hers. “Fucking hotter.”

We erupt in a mini fit of hysterics.

“Too bad he’s off-limits.”

“Eh,” I shrug, “I’m not really about that anyway.”

Daph goes quiet, releasing my arm to wrap hers around my shoulder. “I know, babe. How you been doing with all that? I know we don’t really talk about it—”

“No,” I interject. “I appreciate you, truly, but it’s better if I don’t talk about it. To answer your question though, I’m doing better than I thought I’d be. And when you compare it to how I was, I’m practically the picture of perfect mental health.” An uneasy laugh escapes my throat. “I just… I guess I kind of came to terms with the fact I’ll always be broken from here on out. And once I owned that, it took the pressure off me getting back to who I was and allowed me to be okay with simply who I am now.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being broken, boo.” Daph stops in front of the door to face me. “Us broken people get to piece ourselves back together in whatever manner we see fit. If anything, other people are jealous of us. We aren’t bound by the constraints of society. We get to be free.”

“Nobody’s free, Daph. The thing about trauma? The resulting cage is self-imposed. Makes it harder for our brain to realize we’re trapped. But trust me, the bars are there.”

She forces a halfhearted smile, rubbing my back in support.

We enter the restaurant, and the hostess leads Daphne to a booth while I excuse myself to the restroom. I stand at the sink, washing my hands when a low whistle draws my gaze up to the mirror. My heart stutters in my chest, his unexpected presence causing me to flinch.

Maverick Bishop is leaning against one of the stalls, arms crossed over his chest with his scarred brow cocked.

“Jesus,” I exhale, rolling my eyes in annoyance. “I’m not gonna end up on the evening news, right?” My voice drops low, taking on a mocking tone. “Teenager from affluent neighborhood goes for tacos and never returns. How sinister.” I glare at his reflection in the mirror. “How’s your girlfriend, by the way?”

“Never had one,” he responds nonchalantly.

“Girlfriend, fuck toy, drug mule. It’s all the same to you, isn’t it?” I continue to eye him with heavy judgment. Last night may have been my first run-in with Bishop, but his reputation precedes him.

“If you say so.”

I shake my hands out before reaching for a paper towel. Spinning to face him, I dry my hands quickly and toss the crumpled paper in the garbage as I approach. “You know, if you’re gonna start stalking me, you may as well call up Nicky and get on the payroll. Could free up JP from his babysitting duties.”

His eyes roam hungrily down my body. It’s a gesture that triggers a slight sense of unease, but I hold strong, refusing to cower.

“If joining Nicky’s crew entails being able to follow your fine ass around, then I may just put in an application.” He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, the white of his teeth peeking through as they scrape against it. “Or, better yet, you could come hang in Rebel territory for the day.”

“You asking me out?” I angle back, arching a brow.

“No.” He straightens his posture, taking half a step in my direction. “I’m trying to get into your pants. Your very short, very sexy, itty-bitty pants.”

It’s my turn now to lean into his space, pushing up onto my tip toes so I’m positioned closer to his ear. From this angle I have a clear view of his neck tats. Two stick out most prominently—his Renegade Rebel brand, which is comprised of two R’s side by side, the first being reversed; and a black bishop chess piece. I notice the tendons in his neck flex as I move closer on a whisper. “Nicky would murder you.” I drop back, holding his gaze with a smirk.

“Mmmm… but what a way to go.” He runs his tongue across the front of his perfectly-straight white teeth.

“In your dreams, Bishop.”

I start to back away when Maverick’s hand swipes forward, fisting the fabric of my sweatshirt and pulling me into him. My hand has my gun drawn and pressed up under his chin before I even hit his chest.

“Touch me again, and you won’t have to worry about Nicky, because I’ll put a fucking bullet in you. You got me, Bishop?”

He releases me, raising his hands in surrender, though his smile only widens. “Yeah. I got you, baby. Loud and clear. I won’t touch you again. I’ll just have to wait for you to touch me.”

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