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Callie blinks. “Your last name is McConnell.”

It’s not a question.

“Not now.”

“We've had sex multiple times.”

Bishop turns away. His shoulders move.

I stare at him. “Are you fucking laughing?”

“No.”

“You are.”

Callie looks delighted. “He’s laughing.”

Bishop starts walking.

“I liked you better when you were unconscious,” I mutter.

Callie leans against me. “No, you didn't.”

I look down at her.

She's right.

Of course she fucking is.

I slide one arm carefully beneath her knees.

Her eyes widen. “Roman⁠—”

“Don't.”

I lift her. She immediately wraps her arms around my neck.

“I can walk.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you carrying me?”

I start toward the road, unable to speak.

Because I almost lost you.

Because I saw your body hanging unconscious in another man's arms.

Because I found rope in the back of his vehicle.

Because every second between realizing you were gone and hearing you scream my name took something out of me I don't think I'm getting back.

But I don’t say that.

Instead, I say, “Because I fucking want to.”

She studies me, then rests her head against my shoulder. “Okay.”