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I know what he’s telling me, what he’s saying even though he might not be using the exact words. If it came down to a choice between me and baseball, he would choose me.
It’s something I already believed in my heart, but still, there’s scar tissue in my chest that heals over at hearing it from his mouth. When you’ve lived your entire life feeling like the people who were supposed to love you saw you as second best, it’s hard to believe you could ever be the most important priority to anyone. That fear creates a scar that twists and pulls, an ever-present reminder of just how little you were loved.
So Bishop’s words…they mean far more than I was expecting them to.
“You’re everything to me,” I say, turning my head and pressing my lips to his wrist.
He begins to move again, his hips withdrawing and then snapping forward again, this time with more roughness than before.
“You’re mine, Gabi,” he tells me, his voice a growl.
“And you’re mine,” I respond.
“Forever. There’s no going back.”
“Never,” I pant.
His pace picks up, our hips colliding, his dick crashing into that spot deep within me, bringing me right back to the precipice in an instant.
“My Gabi,” he says, his thumb stroking my lips.
“Your Gabi,” I repeat back.
I’ve always been his. Always. There might have been a time when we were apart, but we were fools to ever believe we didn’t belong together, to think we weren’t made for each other, molded out of the same clay.
The tightness in my spine becomes too much, and I splinter, my entire soul breaking into bits, the pleasure spiraling through me until I can barely handle it. I collapse beneath him, a puddle of nothing. Bishop kisses my neck as he follows me over, sucking at my skin and groaning, pulsing hot inside me, and then he collapses as well.
We lie like that for long moments, long hours, who knows. All I know for sure is nothing feels like being in his arms, and nothing ever will.
“I’ll see you in six weeks,” I say, my head tilted back as I look up into Bishop’s eyes.
“Six weeks. For the first game of the season.”
I nod. “It’s going to be amazing, and I can’t wait.”
“I can’t either.”
Bishop presses his lips to mine, one hand stroking through my hair, the other holding me close. I don’t want him to go. Don’t want to be without him. Don’t want us to ever be apart again. Reminding myself of all the important reasons he needs to leave is becoming harder now that his SUV is loaded and we’re standing in his driveway, saying goodbye.
He leans back, his hand coming to stroke my cheek then down my jaw to my chin.
“I…have something…for you,” he says, licking his lips then taking a step back as he tugs out his wallet.
My eyes narrow as he retrieves a small square of lined notebook paper then unfolds it twice. It’s no bigger than a post card, but when I see it, my heart flies into my throat, robbing me of words.
“How do you have that?” I ask.
I take the tattered slip of paper from his hand, the edges worn and slightly discolored, sure I must be misunderstanding what I’m seeing.
“It was sitting on your desk one day, and I took it. I wanted it and thought you’d be embarrassed if you knew I saw it.”
He’s right. Back then, when I drew this, I would have died rather than let him see it. But seeing it now…knowing he’s had it all these years, knowing he kept it? Even when we weren’t together? I’m having a hard time putting into words what it means to me.
It’s a drawing of our hands, which is fairly innocuous. The embarrassing part is the infinity symbol I drew on my wrist, right in the spot Bishop always kisses, and the words “Gabi and Bishop Forever” written in a loopy scrawl at the bottom.
It’s a simple sketch—far from my best—but I felt it so deeply when I drew it, when I scribbled those words so many years ago. And now, knowing what we’ve been through, having found each other again…well, it’s even more profound.
“I could never bring myself to get rid of it,” he tells me, shaking his head. “Something inside me just…knew I would regret it. Knew it was too important to just chuck in the trash.”
