Page 221 of Bishop

I swallow over my erratic pulse. Nod. Shrug. “And how about you?” My attention falls to his cheek where a nasty red scar is partially hidden behind his thick beard. “You’ve recovered better than I imagined.”

“I’m a tough nut to crack.” His expression sobers. “I would’ve come to see you sooner, but I’ve been biding my time, waiting for the facial scruff to cover the wound. I didn’t want to scare Tilly or remind her of what happened.”

He’s been biding his time? For Tilly?

My stomach does a sweeping roll, my insides entirely enamored by his thoughtfulness while my head defiantly rebuilds walls around my heart.

He could’ve called.

Instead, I’ve lived in fear for his well-being, constantly haunted by what could’ve happened. How he was maimed. If he even survived.

“That was nice of you,” I murmur.

He huffs a laugh. “You lying to me, belladonna?”

That word. The endearment. Damn him. It sinks under my skin, warming my insides.

“No. I’m not lying.” I cement a friendly expression in place, not wanting him to see how hard this is for me. “It was nice of you to think of Tilly.”

“But not nice that I left you in the dark?”

I square my shoulders, floundering for a response he won’t see through.

I don’t want to be annoyed. I’m still yet to apologize for my wrongdoings. It just hurts, that’s all.

“I couldn’t call, Abri. Not when I couldn’t visit.” He lowers his gaze to the bunny in his hand. “I’ve kept tabs on you though. I made sure you didn’t need me.”

But I did need him.

I needed his confidence every time I fumbled my way through important decisions for my daughter. I needed his calm when the panic stopped hovering in the shadows and attacked like a pack of rabid wolves.

I needed his strength.

His protection.

His touch.

His eyes narrow as if he can hear my thoughts. “You’ve had everything you needed, right?”

“Yes.” I scrunch my nose. “Of course. Matthew took control of everything. He’s been great.”

The patter of tiny feet approach behind me, Tilly’s hands clasping my thighs as she peers around my legs to spy our visitor.

He straightens. Stiffens. I swear he holds his breath.

“Do you remember Bishop?” I run a comforting hand through my daughter’s hair. “He came to say hello.”

She nods, clinging tighter to my legs.

Neither one of them speak, creating an awkward ravine between us.

“I think he might have a gift for you,” I hedge.

Bishop’s gaze snaps to mine before understanding dawns. “Shit,” he mutters, the word barely leaving his mouth before his eyes flare. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

I smile. “It’s okay. Just give her the bunny.”

Hesitance takes over his features as he lowers to his haunches and raises the toy for Tilly to take. “I thought this little guy could be best friends with the one you already have.”

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