Chapter Thirty Six: Bishop

My knee bounces, shaking the table in the corner of the hotel bar.I sit alone, mostly because of the don’t-fuck-with-me vibes I’m giving off, but we’re all there—the whole team—waiting anxiously to hear anything about the accusations made.

There are a few reporters camped outside the hotel waiting for anyone associated with the team to come or go so they can get a comment. Not that they will. Graham vowed he’d have our cleats if any of us utter a single word, and no one is willing to test him.

I hung back at the stadium for as long as it made sense for me to be there. I just needed to know she was okay. But there was no reason to stay once the rest of the team finished with therapies or extra work outs and cleared out.

My phone buzzes on the tabletop, and just like every other time it has in the past hour, my heart races. I flip it over only to have my stomach sink when I see it’s not Willow, but my sister, Sutton. It’s not that I’m not happy to receive her message. I am. Rebuilding the relationship with my family is something I’m challenging myself to do, but right now, my mind is focused on the fact I haven’t heard from Willow.

SUTTON: You okay? I just saw the reports.

No. I’m not okay. My world is fracturing. The legacy of the team I lost is being called into question, and the woman I love is being torn apart in the press.

So you admit it then,Tommy whispers. You love her.

Fuck.

Now is not the time for groundbreaking realizations.

I type out a snarky reply but instantly erase it. Sutton doesn’t deserve my anger. God knows she’s had enough of it over the last year. Not only that, it would be counterproductive to repairing what I’ve broken between us.

BISHOP: Thanks for checking in. I’m as okay as I can be. Let the family know I’ll call as soon as I can.

Just as I hit send, another text comes through from Jackson.

JACKSON: What the fuck is going on down there?

BISHOP: As soon as I know for sure I’ll let you know.

JACKSON: Are you with Willow?

BISHOP: No

JACKSON: WHY THE FUCK NOT??

That’s a great question. Maybe because I have no idea where she is. Or if she even wants me there.

I ignore him, not needing the berating I am sure is coming.

Setting the phone back down, I glance across the bar to the TV we’ve commandeered, playing the highlight reel of the press conference.

Over and over, I’ve watched the footage. The glint in Willow’s eyes that was just for me. It screams of the passion we share. A moment existing only between us when she was at my mercy. Her pussy filled with my toy. Then Monroe asks his fucked-up questions, and that passion is instantly replaced by sheer terror.

I have never wanted to kill a man, but I was damn close in that moment.

A torso blocks my view, and I look up to find Carson standing there. He’s not wearing his signature smile. It’s the first time I’ve seen him look almost despondent.

“As your co-captain, I feel as though it’s my duty to tell you we need to do something about this. The team is getting antsy. None of them want to head up to their rooms, but sitting here isn’t going to get us answers any faster and rumors are starting to spread.”

He voices everything on my mind.

“You think I don’t know that?” It’s the only reason I’m still here and not tearing through Fort Myers to find Willow. I have to trust she’s in good hands with Graham and Nikki and if she needed me, she’d let me know. The team, on the other hand, is my responsibility.

They haven’t exactly been quiet with their comments. There’s anger from some. Whispers that their former teams could have made the playoff last season if they were given fair calls. There’s apprehension from others about inviting someone like Mercer Cohen back into the league, let alone onto their team. Some are going so far as to question if Willow knew all along. Overall, they trust her as an owner, but the few that don’t, like Sharpe, are working hard to sow seeds of doubt through the team.

“I know you do.” Carson runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “You look like you’re ready to murder someone.”

“I am,” I growl.

“Would this have anything to do with a certain blonde-haired owner?”

“No, why would it?—”

Carson holds up a hand, halting my denial. “Don’t play dumb with me. I’m your co-captain. And you’ve shown up to one too many practices smelling of lavender and lemon.”

“I—” Fuck. Willow’s going to kill me. “How do you know what she smells like?”

“It’s a curse, really. Nose like a damn bloodhound.” He falls into the seat beside me and lifts his glass like he’s goddamned Vanna White. “I can also tell you that this beer has hints of orange and an undertone of cloves mixed with the hops. And Julian is sleeping with the concierge.”

My brow raises, silently asking if he’s fucking serious.

“Even if I didn’t smell her on you, there’s also the fact that any time the two of you are in the same room, you look like you’re going to devour one another.”

Do we? Did I? Shit. I—I want to blame it on our arrangement, but even I know that’s a lie. Even if I hadn’t been fucking her every which way for the last month, I’d still look at her that way. New Year’s and knowledge of how she sounded coming apart on my cock solidified that. Now, though?

You love her. Tommy says the words I won’t let myself believe.

Until now.

Fuck. I do.

It hits me like a ton of bricks. Willow is my aisle seat. She’s seen parts of me I previously reserved for the hot showers after a night of trying to forget—the breakdowns, the tears, the undiluted rage that consumes me.

Consumed me.

Past tense. I’m not delusional enough to believe it’s not still there, but it’s nowhere near where it was a month ago. She showed me it’s okay to feel it, let it go, and do it all over again the next day. Because that’s living after tragedy. She challenges me to be who I am, not who I was.

She’s all in.

And now he gets it.

“You can’t tell anyone,” I murmur to Carson, hating the way my chest tightens when I do.

I’ve been such an idiot.

Carson scoffs. “And betray the brotherhood of co-captains? Never.”

I shake my head. “I—I’m worried about her.” Because that’s all I can say. I’m confident Carson won’t say anything, but I can’t say the same for everyone else in the room. Anything more could cost us both our jobs.

Not to mention Willow deserves to hear how I feel before I tell anyone else.

“Listen, it’s none of my business”—he pauses to sip his fruity beer—“but if you care so much, then why are you still sitting here?”

“Because she’s my boss, and the team needs me here.”

Carson grunts, but it comes out more of an annoyed laugh. “I’d be willing to wager my left nutsack that she’d be happy to see you, regardless.”

“Your left one?” I clarify with a pointed look.

Carson shrugs. “Yeah, righty is the more dominant one. I need him if I’m ever going to have kids one day.”

“You are so fucking strange.”

His lip twitches upward. “You love it.”

Unfortunately, the bastard’s right. He’s growing on me.

Carson takes another sip and cocks a brow. “So, you want to be here for the team?”

“Come on, man, don’t do that. I’m trying.”

“I know, but don’t hide behind us just because you’re too scared to be there for the woman you’re clearly interested in.”

Tommy snorts. I like him. Keep him around when I’m gone.

My chest tightens, and I struggle to force air into my lungs. When he’s gone. When the fuck is that? I’ve already lost Norah and Jackson as my conscious interlopers. Am I going to lose Tommy too?

Eventually, you have to let me go. I have to move forward. Just like you.

What if I don’t want to? I might pretend I hate their constant interjections, but having this piece of them has been a lifeline in the midst of all the bullshit.

Tough shit. Now go find Willow.

“Bishop?” Carson’s voice and his hand on my forearm pull me from my spiral. “You okay?”

No.

“I—yeah. I’m fine.”

His eyes narrow, and I’m not sure he believes me. Hell, I wouldn’t believe me. I’m a grown ass man sitting here talking to the voices inside my head.

“Okay.” He nods. “If you’re sure.”

“I am.” I sip from my beer and focus on Tommy’s advice. “Can you cover for me tonight? Keep the guys in line?”

Carson awards me with a disbelieving stare. “Are you, Bishop Lawson, the broody extraordinaire, going to make reckless decisions, sneak out on a school night, and trust me as your co-captain to handle our merry band of men?”

He says it as if I haven’t been doing every one of those things for the entirety of spring training.

I nod. “I’m going to figure out what the hell is going on.”

He leans against the table and pops a brow. “Annnnnd.”

“I’m going to track down our fearless leader.”

“Fuck yes.” He lifts his hand for a high-five. “Go team Carship. No, Bishon. Whitson? No, Lawmore.”

“What?”

“Our ship name.”

I pinch my brow and dip my head to hide my smile before reluctantly lifting my hand and slapping his. “I fucking cannot with you.”

Carson lets out a rough laugh before flashing me a wicked grin. “Go get your girl, Bish.”

My heart skips a damn beat. I like the sound of that.

Unease grips my spine as I wait for someone to open the door. I count the planks that make up the wooden porch to stop my mind from circling back to my feelings for Willow.

The whole drive here, I rehearsed everything I want to tell her, but nothing seemed like enough.

I’m pulled from another rendition of laying my heart on the line when the door creaks open, and I’m greeted by Leigh. She’s still dressed in her Renegades t-shirt from the game, but her ash blonde hair is pulled up on top of her head instead of down.

She looks me up and down and smirks. “So, the casual dick finally decides to show up.”

I pop a brow up. “The what?”

“Never mind. I’m guessing you’re here to see Willow?”

Indie steps out from the hall that leads to the kitchen. Unlike Leigh, she’s changed from her Renegades gear into a pair of sweats and a tank.“Do my ears deceive me? Bishop Lawson is here?”

“Why is that so surprising?”

Indie rolls her eyes. “It’s not. I just lost the over-under on how long it would take you to get here.”

“I’m sorry I lost you money.”

“Oh no, we are far past monetary exchanges. You just lost me the first crack at the newest hockey romance Leigh procured for our little smut club.”

Confused, I ask, “Can’t you just buy your own copy?”

Indie scoffs and rolls her eyes again and glances at Leigh, as if to say this asshole. “And miss the annotations that come from Leigh’s filthy mind? Absolutely not.”

I huff a laugh. “Can I please come in?”

“Nope.” Leight throws her hand out and blocks the door frame. “We’ve got a few questions for you first.”

An expectant look is etched on both of their faces, and I know I’m in for the “whole hurt her and I’ll kill you” speech. “Okay. Fine. Let”s get this over with.”

Leigh smirks. “First off, you get points for the box of toys.”

“Um, thank you. I think.”

“But you lose points for being a complete asshat before that,” Indie interjects.

“That’s fair.” I dip my head and rub the back of my neck. I deserve that title, and probably a bit more for all the things I put Willow through.

“Tell us. Why are you here?” Leigh presses.

“I need to make sure she’s okay.”

“I’m not convinced. You have been a whole pain in her ass since she took over the team.” She glances at Indie, who nods in agreement.

“I know. But you also know we’ve become a whole lot more since arriving in Fort Myers,” I argue.

“Sure. I know she’s all in, but you? You’re in—” Indie turns to Leigh and asks, “—what’s the equivalent of a cleat chaser but for the owner of a team?”

“Skirt chaser?”

“Definitely not as sexy, but we’ll come up with a better name.” Indie snaps her gaze back to me. “She’s got no one but us now. Which means she’s ours to protect.”

“Are you going to break her heart?” Leigh fires.

“No. I?—”

Indie doesn’t let me finish. “Because if you are, you can turn your happy ass around and head back to where you came from.”

“I’m falling in love with her.” I groan, dragging a hand through my hair. “Are you happy with that answer?”

“Fuck,” Indie curses. “Really?”

“Yes. Okay?” I shift my weight, hoping it’s enough to get them to let me in, but by the dumbstruck looks on their faces, I’ll need to elaborate a bit more. “I have been since the first night. Ever since I found her on that fucking balcony. She came in like a damn wrecking ball and consumed all my thoughts, and I wanted her. But I wasn’t ready. Neither was she. We both had things we needed to accomplish before we could ever be more. And then the crash. Fuck that fucking crash. I know I was an asshole. I fucked up in every possible way and shut her out. But Willow, the fucking goddess that she is, chipped away at every piece of me until I had nothing left and then she selflessly gave me pieces of herself to replace them with.”

“Shit,” Leigh whispers. “You really do love her.”

“Yes.” I drop my hand, not breaking eye contact with her. “Can I come inside now?”

Their shoulders relax and Leigh drops her arm from the door, signaling I’ve passed their little test.

When I cross the threshold, Indie mutters, “She’s a mess right now. We had to make sure.”

“I know.” I sigh. “She’s lucky to have friends like you in her corner.”

That earns me a smile from Leigh. “Can I give you a piece of advice?”

“I’ll take all the help I can get.”

“Willow will hear you say the words, but she won’t believe them. Her parents did a number on her as a kid and because of that, she will bend over backwards to help the people she loves. On the flip side, she struggles to believe she deserves the same. You say you’re falling in love, but she’ll be quick to believe you’re just like everyone else and that love comes with a price. Her mother loved her as long as she was the perfect little debutant. Her father as long as she shared baseball with him.”

I nod, committing her heartbreaking words to memory. “So, what are you saying?”

“Say the words, but back them up with your actions. Make sure she sees it. Feels it.”

Chewing over her words, I realize she’s right. Willow seeks action. It’s in everything she’s ever done. She made sure I got down here. Warned me about being on thin ice with my place on the team. Stopped me from ruining my career with my drinking. Even the advice she gives is all rooted in action. Learn to live. Take Carson to The Guardian. Go to New York to be with Jackson.

My girl speaks in action.

I nod, working it over in my brain.

“She’s up in her room,” Indie tells me. “She got an email from Nikki and told us she just wants to be alone.”

Fuck.

“Do you know what it said?”

Indie grimaces. “It was the evidence.”

“So, it’s true?” I ask, even though I already know.

Leigh sighs and gives a half-hearted shrug, but her eyes hold something back. “It’s not good. They have messages between her father and the umpires he bribed, in addition to bank statements for offshore accounts and wire transfers.”

“And what do you think?” I press.

A pensive look crosses her face. “If you ask me, it seems too clean. Mr. York was a lawyer for years. He knew the ins and outs of the law. If he wanted to do this, there’s no one better to get away with it. But the evidence is there, and I can’t argue with that.”

“Fuck.” I exhale. This news would be a tsunami to Willow’s heart. She believes in this team more than anyone I know, including the guys that make up the field. This on top of having the press tear apart her plans and making her the villain will have decimated her confidence.

“Will the guys stand with her?” Leigh asks softly, and I can read between the lines. She’s asking if she’ll be fighting this war on two fronts.

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I think most of them will, but until they hear the whole story, I can’t say for sure.”

Willow didn’t have a single hand in this aside from her plans. I want to believe that if we tackle the cheating head on and let them hear the vision she has in her own words, the team will see she has their best interest at heart.

“We’re here to help in whatever way we can,” Indie reassures.

“Thanks.”

“Now go get your girl.”

I plan to.