Page 197 of Rebellious

She slid to her feet. “I-I’ll leave you alone since you don’t want to be bothered with me.”

Fuck, a sniffle escaped anyway. She had to talk to herself. Right now, she had to get to her room, so she grabbed her phone and her tablet.

“Wait, Reb.” Bishop rushed to where she stood, holding herself together by a very thin thread, and planted himself in front of her. He shoved his hands into his pockets—again. “Being friends with you in full view of everyone is nerve-wracking enough. When it’s just you and I in this house, I’m questioning if I like living.”

“My parents trust you. They know you’ll never hurt me.”

“Meggie and Outlaw aren’t here. Diesel’s the one in charge right now.”

“You and Diesel are friends. Besides, he’ll listen to me.”

Bishop smiled. “I love your optimism. I just don’t want to inadvertently set him off.”

“You want,” Rebel said with certainty, tossing her hair. “He’ll probably thank you for keeping me company.”

Skepticism crossed Bishop’s face, but he smiled again. “I hope you’re right. Why don’t you sit down and keep me company while I find something for the evening meal?”

“Why don’t you prepare a salad with braised chicken breasts, leafy greens, tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, and croutons?”

“A simple meal, but will the boys like it?”

“Hmmm. Probably not. Only Momma can get that meal through. Order two or three pizzas. If anyone asks, tell them that’s what I wanted. Pizza is always a hit and if they get mad, I’ll cry.”

Manufactured tears designed for guilt was one thing. Real tears that she couldn’t control were just unacceptable.

He laughed. “You’d pull out those big guns for me.”

“Of course! Why make your life more complicated if there’s a simpler solution?”

“Pizza, it is.”

“Do you want some lemonade?” she asked, not ready to return to her lonely room. “That’s what I was drinking. I can refill mine and pour you some as well.”

“Have a seat,” he told her, still more formal than she liked. “I’ll do the honors.”

Once Rebel complied, it didn’t take long for Bishop to pour their drinks and join her at the breakfast bar.

“How’s your sister?” she asked, trying to jumpstart the conversation. “The one with the baby.”

“She’s fine. Motherhood is hard on her, but she’s fifteen, so that’s to be expected.”

“I guess so,” Rebel mumbled, sipping her lemonade to hide her bemusement.

“How’s Rule?”

“He’s okay. I talked to him yesterday afternoon. He doesn’t know what happened to me, though.”

“It’s probably for the best. He’s so far away, he might feel a little helpless.”

“Or it might bring him back to what he did,” Rebel said, trying not to think too hard about her twin. It was best that way. As long as she didn’t dwell on him, she didn’t drown in that misery. “I have another question about your sister.”

Bishop drained his glass. “I’m listening.”

“Why doesn’t she have help with her baby? Like your mom and your other sisters. Why don’t they help her?”

“Because the baby doesn’t belong to them.”

“Momma told me if I had a baby she’d expect me to take care of it—”