Page 158 of Bishop

I can’t picture it. Can’t bring sight to a heartbroken, teenage Bishop. His presence is so undeniably powerful and enduring that imagining him as anything less than impenetrable is painful.

“I’m so sorry.” I reach for him, my own selfish needs demanding contact.

“Maybe next time you’ll think twice about asking for my secrets.” His hand finds mine in the shadows, our fingers tangling. “Little boys don’t become men like me without facing demons along the way.”

“I know. I just…”

The sound of a car pulling up outside carries through the house, the impending interruption increasing my guilt.

“So now you know why I despise your drug use, belladonna.”

I cringe, but nod.

“And why it’s important for me to help save your daughter.”

Oh, God.

“Please, Bishop…” My tightening lungs make it hard to breathe. “Don’t make this about your sister.”

I won’t be able to deny him if he does. He wouldn’t have to sneak out. I’d watch him leave, my heart on my sleeve, my backbone crumpled on the floor.

“I’ll go to him in the early hours,” he promises. “I’ll get the information. You know I will.”

I know. God, how I know.

But if Geppet truly is just looking for a way out of the approaching war, he doesn’t deserve the type of torment Bishop will inflict.

“Let me think about it,” I lie.

I’m stalling, desperate to formulate a better plan we can both agree on when the front screen door opens with a screech.

“Dinner is here,” Layla calls out. “I hope you’re hungry.”

We remain silent, staring at one another through the darkness, our shared trauma seeming to wash away all the cruelty shared between us.

“You need food.” He tugs me to my feet. “You’ve barely eaten today.”

“Wait.” I cling to the towel loosening around my breasts. “Tell me why you shared all that with me.”

Footsteps echo down the hall, the murmured chatter of Layla and Matthew approaching as Bishop remains quiet.

“Please,” I whisper.

The footsteps stop abruptly, making me rerun how sexual I must have sounded.

Then the bedroom light flicks on, blinding me.

“Shit.” I cover my eyes as Bishop presses his body into mine like some sort of shield.

“Dinner,” my brother snaps. “Now.”

Layla chuckles, their footfalls continuing down the hall while Matthew mutters a whole heap of something under his breath.

“We weren’t even doing anything.” I raise my voice, blinking until my sight adjusts.

“That statement would be more convincing if you had clothes on,” Matthew growls back.

I roll my eyes and meet Bishop’s smirking gaze. I guess he likes pissing off my brother.

---