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“How so?” I’m afraid to look directly at him, for fear he won’t answer. This is the most open he’s been with me, although I did pretty much spill my guts to him.
“He traveled for work often and left my mom to take care of us. My brother was a lot of work as a kid because of all the appointments, and they needed the health care benefits. I was a lot of work because, as you know, hockey is time consuming, and my mom was doing it alone, essentially.” Bishop stares out the windshield, and I wonder if he’s caught up in the memories of his childhood. It was a lot for my parents to run the farm and take RJ to all his practices and tournaments, and that was with both of them around. I couldn’t even imagine how difficult it would be as a mostly single parent.
“They fought a lot, and eventually their marriage dissolved. My dad bailed, and before the divorce papers were even signed, he was shacking up with one of his colleagues who he’d been taking trips with for years. My mom has never said as much, but I seriously doubt that relationship started after their marriage ended.”
I squeeze the hand wrapped around the back of my neck. “I’m sorry. That must’ve been hard for all of you.”
“My dad wasn’t very present in our lives, so the divorce wasn’t as big a deal as it could’ve been. Not for me and Nolan, anyway. It was almost expected. But I guess it framed the way I dealt with relationships, which was to avoid them for the most part. I had one long-term girlfriend back when I got drafted out of college, but it didn’t last.”
“Because you have trust issues?” I would if that’s how my parents’ marriage ended.
He shrugs. “Not really. It was more that she wasn’t as interested in me as she was the attention being with me got her. I guess sort of the same thing you worry about with friends using you because of Rook’s fame. I’m not really interested in being with someone whose primary concern is whether their social media following is growing on account of our relationship status, you know? Besides, you’ve met me; I don’t have a shining personality that women fall for.”
“You’ve grown on me.”
“Like fungus.”
I chuckle quietly. “We’re quite the messed-up pair.”
“Everyone has a demon or two, Stevie. You just gotta learn how to live with them and find other people who think all your good parts outweigh the bad.” Bishop gives my neck a squeeze and drops his hand. “You ready to go home?”
“Yeah, I’m ready.”
When we get back to the apartment, I fully expect Bishop to come in so we can do his PT and deal with the decorations. But when we reach my door, he pulls me in to him. At first I don’t get what’s going on, and then I realize Bishop is hugging me.
I’m slow to react, but eventually I wrap my arms around his waist and settle my palms on his broad back, the muscles flexing under the skin. I rest my cheek against the soft cotton of his shirt, listening to his heart thumping steadily. He smells really good, like greasy takeout, but also faintly of cologne.
I realize that this is the first time Bishop has hugged me on purpose. It doesn’t escape me that it’s also the first time he’s really opened up to me about his life and who he is, or that it’s also been an emotional day and maybe that’s why he’s being all . . . affectionate.
Eventually he leans back, and I tip my chin up so I can see his face. His expression is serious and intense, although that’s fairly common for him. I’m pretty sure I have burger breath, so I make sure I exhale through my nose.
His gaze moves over my face like a gentle caress. “We need to talk about last night.” His arms are wrapped around me, and I’m still shocked by the hug, so it takes me several long seconds to process his words.
I let my palms settle on his forearms. “We can pretend it didn’t happen, can’t we?”
“Is that what you want?”
I shrug and stare at his Adam’s apple. What I want is for him to tip my chin up and press his lips to mine. But all I can think about is what Joey said about him being a rebound, how Bishop dismissed it, how I don’t want to use him, and how I should be focused on his rehab and not what dating him would be like.
Bishop releases me but doesn’t put any distance between our bodies. “I’m sorry, Stevie. I shouldn’t have—”
I shake my head and cut him off before he can finish that sentence. “Things got intense. Let’s just forget about it.”
