It’s a suicide mission.
Despite what she likes to think, she isn’t invincible.
She has to take it easy, give her body and her head time to heal, or there could be serious repercussions. Ones I’m not about to sit back and watch her suffer from, not the way I have with others.
I snag her hand and press my lips to the back of it, waiting for her to try to tug it away, but she doesn’t. She lets me absorb that jasmine scent from her skin that somehow calms me and releases some of the tension I’ve been holding ever since the bomb went off that’s only grown since I found her collapsed beside me on that pavement.
“You are not going to do anything, Hellcat. Those of us who are actually okay are going to do whatever we need to do to make sure the family’s safe.”
“Is that why you haven’t left?” She raises a dark brow. “Because you wanted to make sure I was safe here at the hospital?”
I don’t know how to answer her question.
If I do it honestly, it’ll terrify her, but I don’t want to lie to her, not any more than I already have. This woman has twisted me up so violently that I can’t tell what’s wrong or right anymore. Other than how I feel about her.
That somehow feels right.
Swallowing through my suddenly dry throat, I squeeze her hand. “I stayed because I literally, physically could not walk away from you.”
She sucks in a sharp breath, as if my words pained her as much as moving earlier did.
They might have.
Bishop doesn’t do well with emotion or accepting it from anyone, and I’ve done my best to temper my feelings, to wrap them up in our playful banter and try to keep things light, but today changed everything.
“From the moment I woke up and found you unconscious on the pavement, saw the burned-out husk of the car and all the shrapnel and realized what happened, the second I pulled you into my arms, the thought of letting anyone take you out of them was…” I pause, searching for the right words. Ones that won’t scare her away. “It was just something I knew wasn’t going to happen.”
At least not without a fight.
Bishop doesn’t respond to my confession, just sits staring at me with wide eyes that give away nothing.
She’s usually so easy to read, but not tonight.
Not when I don’t think even she knows what she’s thinking or feeling about the situation or me.
“Nora and Pope told me that you’ll probably have to be in here until sometime tomorrow at the earliest, maybe another two days before they release you, to be safe.”
She closes her eyes and shakes her head, wincing. “No. No, no, no. I have to get out of here. I have to go?—”
“No, you don’t, Hellcat.” I capture her face in my palm, preventing her from further hurting herself. “You’re not in control of this, and you have to accept that.”
Her eyes fly open and meet mine, and the anger simmering there is directed at me as much as it is the situation. Hopefully, more so the latter.
“Your father and I can handle things with the rest of the security team. We’ll get it done, whatever needs to happen, while you recover.”
“So, you’re going to, what? Try to push me out?”
I shake my head. “No. Try to keep you safe from yourself. Because right now, you’re your own worst enemy. You have to be calm. A concussion is a brain injury, Bishop. Your fucking brain. This isn’t something to mess around with.”
“This happened on my watch.” Her bottom lip quivers and tears pool in her eyes. She tries to tilt her head away, and I know it’s because she doesn’t want me to see them, doesn’t want me to know that she’s about to cry, because she sees that as a huge weakness, as something she shouldn’t show, that no one else should see. Especially me. “This is my fault.”
“No, it isn’t, Bishop.”
Not by a longshot.
If anyone bears that responsibility it’s me, but before I can continue trying to convince her to stop fighting what’s medically necessary—and me—the door opens and Pope, Nora, Saint, and Caroline enter.
Nora steps up to the bed. “Are we interrupting something?”
