Chapter Twenty-Eight

SHAY

Dumping the grocery bags onto the kitchen table, I began mindlessly putting the items away. My body was moving like the tortoise, but my mind was racing like the hare.

I kept hearing him talk about Sarah. About how he said he had a friend watching her. Following her.

Ready at any moment to choose when she would die.

I tossed the loaf of bread in my hand, slammed my hands against the counter, and let my head hang.

I couldn't let Vince do this to me again. It'd only been a week or so since Bishop managed to get me out of the hell I was in, not sleeping at night, scared of the shadows and what was hiding within them. I was starting to feel like myself again.

Like I was stronger and fought my demons and won. But not alone.

I didn't just feel safe with Bishop, he brought me back to reality. He reminded me of how strong I was and the many battles I'd already won. When he saw those pills, he could have just taken them away and said no, but instead, he let me scream and cry and work through those emotions. He empowered me by letting me fight the battle myself.

That's what I needed to do now.

Remember how strong I was and not give in to these flashes of memories threatening to drag me back down. That was Vince's plan. I couldn't let him win.

My entire body jackknifed in my bed, jolting to life like I'd been shocked.

My breathing was labored, my heart racing in my chest, and for a moment, I just sat there, as still as possible, and stared at the closed door to my room, wondering if I'd just been having a nightmare.

Something had woken me, but the house was quiet and still.

My hands fisted my sheets, and I glanced over at the closet where my quick bag hung on the handle. It was packed and ready to go.

It always was, even though we'd been in this house for coming up on two years.

Mom said we always needed to be prepared, but I was sure this was it. This time, we'd be staying.

Ali had joined the football team, and Mom had finally let me try out for cheerleading—things she'd always told us were too risky because people would take photos at games and competitions and post them online.

This time was different, though. This time, he wouldn't find us.

"No! No, please! Help!" Mom's blood-curdling screams filled our house, followed by a hard thump that I swore I felt in my chest, knocking the air from my lungs. "Please!"

"Shay."

I turned and swung.

Although I didn't even register that I had until my fist connected with Bishop's cheek.

Sucking in a horrified gasp, I stumbled back, pressing my hand to my mouth. "Oh my God," I whispered, my chest heaving as I fought for breath. "Oh my God, I'm sorry. I didn't—"

"It's okay," he cut in, wiggling his jaw. "You're good. Barely grazed me."

I nodded, walking backward until my legs hit the edge of the small round table, grabbing hold of it as my legs shook, threatening to give way. "Okay. Good."

He inched closer, slowly moving like he was scared he was going to spook me. "You all right? You were staring at the wall when I walked in. I had to get right up behind you before you finally heard me saying your name."

"Sorry," I repeated, still fighting to slow my breathing. "When…" I cleared my throat, sucking in a long, deep breath and blowing it out before trying again. "When did you get back?"

He wasn't falling for any of it.

"What happened?" he demanded, stepping up and brushing some stray hairs behind my ear. His hands were almost frozen from riding home, and he didn't protest when I took both of them in my hands and pressed them against my flushed cheeks, the feeling like heaven. "Shay."

"I saw Vince at the grocery store today," I said quietly, meeting his gaze.

Bishop's entire body tightened. The hands that had lazily cradled my face suddenly held it a little tighter, and his fingers wrapped around the back of my neck. "You okay? He say anything?"

I huffed out a laugh, and his hands fell away as I stepped back. "Oh yeah, he had a few words."

"Did Boon step in?"

Oh dear."No. He was outside." When Bishop's eyes widened, I continued to ramble, trying to save face. "He asked if I needed him with me inside, and I said no. That's on me, honestly."

"If I tell a prospect to shadow someone, I don't care who it is. He shadows her every single move," he said clearly.

"Bishop…"

"Don't try and defend him, Shay." He stepped back, brushing his fingers through his hair, and finally noticed the room full of grocery bags. "You still managed to get a lot of stuff. Didn't let that bastard get to you?"

Other than just a few minutes ago, no. I'd actually come out of the interaction reasonably unscathed, though I was now worried something was coming.

"Yeah, I figured I'd cook for lunch tomorrow," I announced with a wide smile. "I've heard the boys and Calli talk a few times about how Lucy used to cook from scratch for lunch, so I just wanted to—"

"Shay…" he started, leaning back against the table and folding his arms across his chest. "Sundays are a tradition, but I want you to feel free just doing your own thing. It doesn't have to be exactly how Lucy did it."

My eyebrows pinched together into a frown. "It should be." I swallowed hard, continuing to lift things from the bag, some cold, some not, moving them to the freezer, refrigerator, and pantry. "Some things in this world should be adapted and changed to suit. Not something like that, though. It doesn't feel right to take over something that means so much to everyone, which is why I decided to go back to how Lucy started it, with home cooking."

"Why?" he questioned with a confused frown. I laid out some vegetables and a chopping board, ready to slice, dice, and prepare for the next morning's workload. I could cook. It was one thing Mom and I did a lot of together. However, I wasn't accustomed to cooking large meals because there were only the three of us. I wanted to get ahead and make sure I was ready. And I was in the right frame of mind to spend the next couple hours doing exactly that, too, until a couple of hands found my hips and a warm breath tickled across my neck. "Why do you want to do it this way so badly?"

Sucking in a deep breath, I turned in his arms. "Because I don't want to take Lucy's place, I want to honor it. I want to make sure that the traditions she started are kept and remembered. The longer we're together, I'm sure we'll make our own traditions and have things important to us, too, so there's no need to change the ones that came before that."

I hoped my rambling made sense. I didn't want to upset anyone or disrespect anyone. It'd been a thought playing on my mind for a little while—a few weeks at least.

Things between Bishop and I were still confusing. At least the part where he originally said I was his Old Lady as a lie to protect me. We hadn't discussed if that had changed to Old Lady status for real since we started sleeping together.

I didn't want to make this situation any more stressful than it already was.

"With the risk of sounding like a complete bastard, I've had a lot of women try to take Lucy's place." He kept shaking his head, this look of wonder and awe on his face and in his eyes. "I've never had one want to recognize her for the amazing woman she was and the things she did for this club and our family. That takes a woman who is very secure in herself."

"I don't know about—"

His mouth covered mine, and suddenly, I was off my feet, Bishop lifting me onto the table and nestling himself between my spread thighs. He swept back my hair, twisting it in his fingers as our mouths collided in a deep, passionate kiss that had me forgetting everything.

Well, almost everything.

I pulled back for a breath. "Bishop, I need to start making this food…"

This time, his mouth found my neck. I slipped my hands inside his cut, wrapping my hands around his belt and pulling him hard against me, hoping that would keep me from melting off the edge of the table and onto the floor.

"The food can wait," he growled against my lips. "Right now, I have to show my woman how much I fucking appreciate her."