Page 155

Dad’s voice carries faintly from somewhere near her. “She gets it from you.”

“Stay out of this, Bob.”

I smile as I wait for the light to change. “I’m okay, Mom. Really.”

“And Hayes?”

My sneaker hits the curb.

“What about him?”

“Is he okay?”

“As far as I know.”

“Good. He sounded tired when I talked to him.”

Of course they talked. Sometimes I forget Bishop had a relationship with my family long before I became his temporary roommate.

“He’s fine. Hockey’s busy.”

“Your dad says they’re playing well.”

“They are.”

“You watching?” I hear what she’s really asking. If I inherited my dad’s stubbornness, my mother is to credit for my perceptiveness.

The walk signal changes.

“Some.” It isn’t technically a lie. I check scores, highlights, and his assists. The occasional clip the Phoenixes post where he’s laughing on the bench or talking to the guys between shifts.

I just haven’t been back to Ignite Arena. Mom doesn’t push. But I prefer the Bishop that exists in the little world we’ve created. He’s not the Captain there, he’s not the hot single hockey god people are lining up to bed or my brother’s best friend. Sometimes he’s not even the guy who broke my heart…

He’s my Bishop.

Banana shakes and banter.

Takeout and TV.

“Call your brother.”

Speak of the devil.

“I talked to him Tuesday.” I sigh, feeling a tiny bit guilty. I've been so busy with my new life I haven't checked in as much as I normally do.

“He misses you.”

“He said I was annoying.”

“That’s Declan for I miss you.”

“Then he misses me constantly.” And I miss him too.

She laughs, and I rush out my goodbyes as I step into the elevator with cold fingers and the strange ache that comes from being homesick for people who are only three hours away.

The doors open and Bishop’s laugh carries from the living room. For half a second, my body reacts before my brain catches up.

Then I realize he’s on the phone. “Yeah, Mrs. B. She just walked in.”