Chapter Eleven

SHAY

"I swear I'm fine," I told Calli for the fourth time as I pulled into The Exiled Eight MC clubhouse. "I'm home now. I'm gonna go up and go straight to bed."

I'd given her a brief rundown on what had transpired this morning, leaving out a few key details I knew would have her losing her mind. I didn't like lying to Calli—hated it, in fact—but I knew exactly what her reaction would be if she thought something dangerous was happening. She'd drop everything, be on the next plane home, and probably lose the internship. I wasn't about to let her do that.

She released a heavy sigh. "I should just come home."

Like I said…

"I swear to God, Calli." I laughed, throwing the car into park. Bishop had all but forced me off the road on my way home that morning. I'd gone along with his plan to drag me in here just to keep everyone calm, but I was still confused as hell about what was actually going on. "You must get your dramatics from your dad because that man…" That overbearing, controlling, masculine, bearded, sexy man. Jesus. I cleared my throat. "He stormed into the emergency department earlier like he was ready for a fight. With me!"

She chuckled, the familiar sound I missed a lot, forcing me to slump back into my seat. "He knows how important you are to me. Of course, he's going to be protective of you."

Right.

I needed that reminder.

"I'm going to have a sleep. I'll catch you up on things later."

"You sure?" she questioned, and I just knew her face was pinched together in that worried frown that always made me smile. "You've been quiet lately, and Missy said you didn't go to Sunday lunch. Something happen?"

With a heavy sigh, I dragged my tired body out of the car, moving strategically to keep from twisting my ribs too much. "I'm just adjusting to this new sleep schedule," I explained, following Bishop toward the clubhouse, trying to hang back so he couldn't hear the entirety of my lies. "Between the night shifts and me still being a little nervous about being alone at night, I'm just not getting as much sleep as usual. But it's fine, Calli. It's a work in progress."

While I wasn't straight-out lying, I also wasn't completely telling the truth. I hadn't been sleeping well, and the night shifts were kind of killing me, but that wasn't why I was missing Sunday lunch and avoiding spending time around the club.

He was the reason.

Fear of my growing feelings was the reason.

I couldn't tell Calli that, but I needed to give her something because if I just tried to play off like everything was sunshine and rainbows, she'd instantly know that I was lying. She'd been my best friend for like six years, and we'd been living together for ninety percent of that time.

"You know you're always welcome at the clubhouse, even if it's just so you can catch up on sleep for a few hours," she reminded me for like the tenth time. "Missy and Hawk are always there, and Dad would have you in a heartbeat."

I brushed past the man himself as he held the clubhouse door for me, rolling my eyes at how wrong she was.

"I know, Cal," I told her breathlessly, continuing to drag my aching body down the clubhouse's back hall to Bishop's office. "I'm just walking inside. I'll give you a call later, okay?"

"Okay, get some sleep," she ordered, and I hung up just as Bishop closed the office door behind us.

He brushed past me, moving over to his desk while I shoved my phone into my back pocket. "You want to tell me what the hell is going on?"

Maybe it was a little harsh, and I was a tad irritable, but I was exhausted and sore. I had planned to go back to our apartment and make the place as dark as the depths of hell. Then I was going to curl up on the sofa with the television on and sleep for as long as humanly possible. That was one thing I'd learned that helped me sleep, making sure I had other noises around me to disguise the natural creaks and crashes that came from outside, which my mind invariably assumed was someone coming to kill me.

I was pretty sure I'd added to that list of people that morning, but my father was still at the top.

As far as I knew, he was still out there. The cops had never caught him after what he'd done to Mom and what he'd tried to do to us. I think that was the part I hated the most. That he never paid for any of it.

Not for killing Mom, trying to kill Ali and me when he set fire to the house, or for making us so paranoid that we started taking those little pills to help us sleep.

He got to just walk away while I still struggled most nights to close my eyes.

"You can't go home," Bishop finally answered like that was it, and there was nothing else to say.

I tossed my backpack onto the sofa to my right, my entire body sagging with exhaustion. "What do you mean I can't go home? I need to sleep, Bishop."

"You can sleep here," he countered again, his expression still entirely blank, giving me nothing. "There's a room next to mine where Calli sleeps sometimes. I'll put you in ther—"

"That's it? That's all you're going to tell me?"

He sat back against his desk, folding his arms across his chest. "It's a precaution… we'll figure it out."

"Okay," I replied, holding my arms out. "Let's figure it out. Tell me what's going on. Am I in danger?"

My heart was beginning to race, and I knew I was being a bitch, but I had reason to be. I'd just been through hell at work with that bastard, I was tired and sore, and Bishop was standing in the way of me relieving all that tension without explaining why.

"Will you just trust me?" he urged, his blank look finally transforming, his shoulders drooping like the weight of the world was on them. "I know you want to stand on your own feet, and you hate having to rely on others, but contrary to what you think, you don't have to throw yourself at every dangerous situation. I don't want you to fucking do that."

I swallowed the uncomfortable lump forming in my throat, that call-out really hitting hard.

Unfortunately, for a long time, my first reaction to fear had been to fight.

It was a habit I picked up in rehab.

Maybe a good one or a bad one, but one that had gotten me through a lot since then. It was about not being the person I once was, who was weak and let the pills and nightmares win, and my father win.

I licked my lips, pressing them together briefly before I spoke. "You're saying you just want me to sit here while you handle a problem you won't even tell me about?"

His hand scrubbed at his beard, his thumb stroking over the coarse hair. "Right now, I'm just asking you to let me fight this battle for you."

"Why?"

"Because I give a fucking damn about you!" he snapped, my body jerking at his harsh tone. "Because I don't want you to get hurt."

"Because I'm Calli's friend."

Jesus Christ, Shay, stop torturing yourself. That's all you are to him.

"Yes, because you're Calli's friend."

"This is an obligation." I just needed to hear him say it. I needed to know for sure so I could start to move on.

"Shay…" Everything stilled, the room suddenly hot, the air hard to breathe as I waited for him to continue, but he clenched his teeth and squared his shoulders, falling silent again.

Letting out a heavy sigh, I shook my head and pulled away from him. "Never mind."

He followed me. "Just wait a fucking second."

"I'll stay in the clubhouse. It's fine. You do what you've gotta do." I turned on my heel and took two large steps, reaching for the door handle, but I should have known he would never just let me leave. You didn't just walk away from a man like Bishop. I twisted the knob and pulled on the door, but he quickly came up behind me, slamming both his hands against it to force it closed again and pin me in.

With his chest pressed to my back, I knew the only way I would get out of there was if I listened to what he had to say, whether I liked it or not.

I should have kept my mouth shut. Maybe then it wouldn't feel like someone had my heart in their fist, squeezing the life out of it, keeping it from pounding the way it did when you're falling for someone.

When you're drawn to someone.

Despite all the ways Bishop frustrated me, I'd always felt safe with him. Like he'd never let anyone harm me. Maybe I'd become a little too focused on that, but when fear has a prominent place in your life, you have to lean into anything that soothes or placates that feeling of perpetual panic.

Maybe I'd just leaned a little too far.

"We aren't done." His gravelly voice tickled my ear, sending a shiver from the base of my spine straight up through my neck. I held my breath, slowly turning to face him.

Bishop didn't give me any breathing room, continuing to press his hands to the door on either side of my body, forcing me to plaster my back against it just so I could see his face.

"I let my feelings run away with me," I murmured, avoiding eye contact by looking everywhere but his face. Instead, I eyed the well-worn and weathered president's patch on his chest. The tattoo of a chess board poking out just below his sleeve. A couple of white hairs twisted through his beard that gave him a dangerous but distinguished look. "I'm really fucking embarrassed about it, but I understand loud and clear. You don't feel the same way I do—"

"I never fucking said that." My heart kicked into overdrive, and the weight of uncertainty began to lift, making breathing easier. There was no way I'd been imagining this shit between us. Every time we were in the same room, it felt like we were preparing for a storm. The energy building, the heart racing. "We've had this discussion before. I don't say or do anything unless I want to. There are no obligations here, especially not with you. You're so much more than Calli's friend, but that's where the problem lies."

And just as quickly as he'd built me up, he broke me down. There it was—the reason we'd both spent so long fighting this.

Calli.

She was the most important person in our lives, and we would both rather hurt each other and ourselves than hurt her.

He let out a heavy sigh. "If something happens, and I hurt you, she would be devastated. She'd fucking hate me."

"You don't think I'm well aware of what's at risk?" I whispered, my voice catching. "If something goes wrong between us, I risk losing her, you, and the club. You guys have given me something I haven't had in a long time. You think that doesn't play on my mind?"

Bishop leaned in, the storm beginning to swirl again as his breath brushed my cheek. "Shay… I can't…"

His voice vibrated through me like thunder.

But I wasn't afraid of this storm. I embraced it. I craved it.

I reached up, curling my hand around his neck. "I know you're thinking about Calli, and I don't want to hurt her either, but I'm so sick and tired of pretending like this is just some stupid, schoolgirl crush."

My heart pounded hard, and Bishop's body practically pressed against mine. I had blood rushing to places I hadn't felt in a long time.

He inhaled long and deep through his nose. "I…"

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The door rattled behind me with the force of someone's fists. "Prez, I've got an update, and it's not great!" Blue called through the door.

"We'll continue this later," Bishop finally growled in my ear before he pulled back, my hand slipping from his neck before he put at least half the room between us.

I missed the heat of his body instantly, but he was right. This wasn't the right time for us to be arguing about this.

There was something else going on, and by the sound of Blue's voice, it was serious.

I paused for a breath first before I turned, grabbed the door handle, pulled it open, and stepped to the side.

Blue walked in with no emotion on his face, not even a twitch of a reaction to the thick tension in the room. "You were right. He sent someone straight to their apartment. Filled the place with bullets."

My mouth dropped open, and I caught myself, bracing my hand against the wall. "What… they… who…" I mumbled, not a single word making any kind of sense, while Bishop simply rolled his shoulders back, a deep frown etching itself into his brows.

"Grab a couple of the boys. We're gonna go see what the damage is," he ordered. "Is Hawk still around? I need him to make a phone call for me."

"I'll grab him," Blue answered, hurrying out of the room, the footfalls from his heavy boots echoing down the hall.

I rushed over to the sofa, reaching for my bag. "I'll follo—"

Bishop grabbed my arm, holding me captive. "No, you're going to stay here."

I tore out of his grasp. "Why?"

"Because at least the clubhouse is fucking bulletproof…" he said sternly before lowering his voice and adding, "… and we haven't finished this discussion yet."

With that, he was out the door, and I couldn't even muster the energy to chase him. Instead, I collapsed onto the sofa, sucking in a sharp breath when my ribs twisted a little too much. "Goddammit," I cursed before barking out a laugh. "How the hell did I get here today?"

No sleep.

A fistfight with a human trafficker.

Admitted my feelings for my best friend's dad.

Barely escaped death by being here instead of at my apartment, which was exactly what I was complaining about just a few minutes ago, thinking Bishop was out of his mind.

I needed sleep. A lot of fucking sleep.