She looked down at her shirt and felt her face heat.
Bishop got up, and seeing as she was still on his lap, she landed on her ass, knocking her arm up as she did so.
She winced, but he didn’t stick around.
“I don’t want you fucking that girl in my house,” Preacher said.
“We weren’t doing anything. She’s too frigid to do anything.”
Did Bishop even realize his voice carried? She could hear every single word he said, and it wasn’t exactly nice what he was saying.
Glancing down at her arm, she saw little specks of blood appearing through the bandage. The doctor had said for her to take care of it, and here she was, getting thrown about by her boyfriend.
She winced at the title. Bishop wasn’t her boyfriend. Was he?
They acted like it in school. Some of the girls would taunt her how they’d already spent the night in his bed. Did they really think she cared?
This was why she had a problem with giving herself to Bishop and also seeing a future with him. They were the best of friends, and if she was being honest, he was her only friend, but he was an asshole.
He complained about his father being one, but the truth was, he wasn’t much better. In fact, there were times he could be worse.
Don’t think that, Robin.
“Besides, it’s not like I can’t find someone else to do what she’s unwilling to do. If being around the club has taught me anything, there is always a willing woman. I’ll go and see Milly. She can finish what she started. I’m out of here.”
Much to her surprise Bishop walked out of the house, and left her there, with his dad.
Her ride was gone.
Tucking her hair behind her ears, she stepped into the kitchen, and Preacher looked at her. “How much of that did you hear?”
“All of it. It’s not a surprise.”
“And yet you don’t do anything about it?”
She folded her arms and glanced over his shoulder, not really knowing what to do. “What should I do? Tell him he can’t go out? That he should be more considerate? May I use your phone?” she asked.
“I left my cell at home, and I need a ride back.” Her stomach chose that moment to grumble, and Preacher snorted.
“My fucking boy. I don’t know what I did to mess up. He brought you here, left you, and didn’t even feed you.” He shook his head. “I’ve got enough food here to feed a small army. You’ll eat, and I’ll drive you back.”
“You don’t have to go to that much trouble.”
“It’s no trouble at all, Robin. You okay with a stir-fry?” he asked.
“Yeah, sure, I don’t mind.”
“You need to take care of your arm.” He put down his food and came around. Before she knew what was happening, he held her arm, removing the bandage.
He was such a large and fierce man.
She’d seen him hurt and kill people without blinking an eye, or putting any effort into it. She wondered if he’d ever hurt her. Pushing those fears aside, she instead focused on what he was doing, the care he was giving.
“You’ve split them open. Sit while I call the doctor.”
“It’s fine. Really. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine when you’re bleeding. It has to heal.”
“It’s not Bishop’s fault.” She cringed as he gave her a look.
“You know, you’ve got to start letting him take the blame for his own mistakes. It will never do you or anyone else any good constantly picking up after him. He has to learn one way or another. Don’t be one of those women who make excuses for his behavior. It’s not good. One day, he will hurt you, if you let him.”
She nodded her head, unable to speak. Sitting at the counter, she watched as he put the call through to the doctor and then got to work on feeding the two of them.
“He’s not always like this, you know. I don’t know what has gotten into him.”
“He’s a boy at heart, trying to be a man, and he doesn’t know how to grow up. One day he will. Hopefully before it’s too late.”
“Too late for what?”
She felt frozen in place. “What do you mean?”
“You think men like Bishop get an easy life? No, they don’t. They always think they’re the toughest son of a bitch in the room, but he’s not. He’s going to end up starting a fight he won’t get to finish. I just hope I’ve taught him enough to make it out alive.”
The doorbell rang, and she jumped.
“I’m not telling you ghost stories,” he said.
“I … yeah, I’m not afraid. I wasn’t expecting the bell to go.” She didn’t even know why she bothered to say anything.
He was already gone.
Rubbing her hands together, she tried to gain her composure, but it wasn’t helping. Nothing was helping her right now.