Page 142 of Deceit

Marty.

Mills.

Blue.

Alexander.

But no Bishop.

“This is important to him too,” Ledger pledges when he must notice me observing the empty chair. “Family is vital.”

I shake my head slightly as to not have Alexander catch that something is wrong when he spent so much time making sure this dinner was perfect. How these people here are everything.

“He’s bull-headed,” I reply. “He’s mad at me. We…had a fight.”

“I noticed.”

Of course, he had; he’s Ledger.

How he sees, hears, and knows all is beyond me.

However, I think he picks everyone’s brain that might know the best details of a situation to get the whole picture. Like a father would do to his flock of children.

“It’s okay,” I reassure him and me. “He’ll have to come around.”

“And he will.” Ledger squeezes my hand. “He is right now.”

My neck snaps to the group around the table, and my heart skips in surprise at his words.

It’s more like hope.

Hope that he came and changed his mind.

Not because I wanted him to see me with Alexander but because I was selfish and needed to see him for myself.

Kyson tells me he’s been his typical self. Working out, killing, smoking, and hanging out with his family. That he’s more pissed off than usual but he didn’t make a thing about it.

Ledger’s soft green eyes meet mine when I look back at him. “Remember what I said.”

I bob my head. I’d listen to anything he said short of him telling me that Heath Ledger wasn’t the best Joker of all time.

“Hey, Bish!” I hear Mills call out, and I can’t help my reaction. My eyes flood with tears and Ledger gives me a small grin, still holding onto my hand and becoming my anchor.

I hear Alexander’s chair slide back from my left but I don’t dare look now. Not until I have my emotions under control. I don’t want to talk to him about what’s wrong.

Because everything is right now.

“Think of how Kyson always forgets not to put mayo on sandwiches,” Ledger emits. “Or when Marty steals your phone charger all the time and you have to keep buying a new one. And do I even need to mention the things Blue does to you?”

A broken chuckle escapes my lips as my adopted father-parent tries to fill my head with things that normally piss me off to keep my tears at bay.

I love him for it.

And it works.

I’m able to shove back waterworks that were about to crash to my cheeks and straighten my spine. Ready to stand to greet the man whom I haven’t laid eyes on in forever when a deep voice halts me altogether.

“You don’t have to get up,” he rumbles over my head. I feel him ease closer without needing to see him. His pleasurable scent of leather and nutmeg with the slight and regular mix of weed envelopes me.

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