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“I am now,” he said and tried to pull himself up. He was still unstable on his feet and swayed, and I jumped to my feet to help him, but he held out his hand to stop me.
Along with his strength, his pride had returned.
“What happened?” I asked, looking around at the blood, the glass, the sheer chaos around me.
“Business deal gone bad.”
I snorted. “That’s an understatement. You need some electrolytes.” I took Bishop’s hand, and he let me lead him to the kitchen. He didn’t have any kind of coconut water or sports drinks on hand, so I made him a mixture of mineral salt and water.
“Drink it,” I ordered. “It will help with the blood loss and the shock.”
Bishop took a sip and pulled a face. “It tastes like shit.”
“Dying tastes worse,” I said dryly.
Bishop chuckled and drank the concoction I’d made him, finishing every last drop. I watched him as he drank, and finally, the panic in my gut uncoiled, and I could breathe easier again.
“That was a close one,” Bishop said, filling his glass with tap water this time and chugging that down, too. He glanced at me. “You need to get out of your bloody clothes. I don’t like seeing you like that.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “It’s nothing.”
Bishop stepped closer to me. “It makes it look like you were injured.” He put his hand on my shoulder, thumbing my collarbone. “I don’t want to see you like that.”
“I’m fine,” I insisted.
Bishop shook his head, and after arguing with me, we finally decided to go to my place so I could find fresh clothes. He was a pain in the ass, but he cared about me.
He was alive.
That was what mattered most.
20
RORY
Idrove. I didn’t trust Bishop behind the wheel just yet.
“Thank you,” he said in the darkness of the car as the city slid by. “For saving me.”
“I’m just glad I got there in time.”
Bishop shook his head. “I can’t believe this happened.”
We got to my place, and I took a quick shower and changed into fresh clothes. I dumped the bloody clothes in the trash; I wouldn’t be able to save them.
Bishop was in my living room, sitting on the couch with his head back and his eyes closed.
He opened them when I walked in, either because he’d heard me, or he’dfeltme.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, sitting down next to him.
He shifted on the couch, moving closer to me. He lifted his arm, and I moved against him. We fit together perfectly, and I was starting to become convinced that we were made for each other.
“I’m feeling fine,” Bishop said. “I need to recover a little more, but I’m far from the verge of death now.”
Thank the powers that were for that. I’d really thought I was going to lose him at one point.
“I’m just glad I got to you when I did.”
