“Wow, that’s not the reaction I expected,” I mused aloud as I tried not to sound as hurt by his rebuff as I was.
Bishop groaned as he sat up. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“What’s wrong with you?” I asked.
“Everything,” Bishop muttered.
I rose to sit beside him. “Would you please tell me what is going on in that head of yours besides morning-after remorse?”
Cutting his eyes over at me, Bishop exhaled painfully. “I’m a fucking bastard.”
My eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What are you talking about?”
“Jesus, Sam, last night it all felt so right, but now in the light of day . . .” He ran a hand over his face. “I thought I was going to be able to handle it—to not let it bother me. But it does. Fucking hell, it does.”
I reached out to tentatively touch his cheek. “Bishop, you’re not making any sense.”
His eyes closed in agony as he said, “Marley.”
While I had expected Bishop to bring Gavin up, it was still hard to hear his name come off Bishop’s lips. It took me back to another grassy clearing—the one where I had held Gavin as he died. Thinking about Gavin caused my heart to ache. I couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath or the pain that hit between my ribs. I looked out at the lake before trying to find my voice.
Before I could, Bishop continued. “Even though Marley wasn’t a patched brother, I broke a cardinal rule last night. You don’t fuck a brother’s girlfriend or old lady.” He opened his eyes and stared at me. “That’s why I’m a fucking bastard.”
“No, you’re not. You’re too good a man to ever be a fucking bastard.”
“Before Marley died, I wanted you. It wasn’t just about wanting to fuck you—it was about wanting us to have what you had with Marley. After he died, I still wanted you, and I’m a heartless bastard for making a move on you.”
“Bishop, it’s okay. There was nothing wrong with what we did last night.”
“Oh hell yes, there was. And as long as I still possess a small fucking bit of decency, it ain’t ever happening again.”
My heart shuddered in my chest. There were so many implications that went along with his declaration. “You don’t mean that.”
“I sure as hell do. I’m pissing on Marley’s memory every time I think about fucking you or when I put my hands on you or my dick in you.” He swallowed hard, and it looked as though he was trying to fight back the tears that threatened in his eyes. “I know you’re sick with grief about losing him, and I took advantage of you. But I promise you don’t have to worry about it happening ever again.”
Sick with grief. Yes. Absolutely. But I had to stop this train of thought. “You’re wrong. I knew exactly what I was consenting to last night,” I argued.
“That’s what you think right now. But what about later on when it sinks in what we did? You’ll hate me for letting things go on.”
“There’s nothing to sink in. I wanted to have sex with you last night. I want to have sex with you again. But more than the sex, I like you, Bishop.”
Bishop’s forlorn expression lightened a little. “You do?”
“Yeah. I do.”
He appeared momentarily happy at my admission, but then his face clouded with worry again. “But Marley—”
“Is gone, but we’re both here.”
Bishop shook his head. “He was my friend. I can’t do that to him . . . or to his memory.”
When he pulled himself up off the grass, I knew he was serious. At the crux of his being, Bishop was honorable, and even though he would hate to do it, he would cut me out of his life. I couldn’t let him do that. I needed to stay a part of his world. While I had to admit that a part of it would be for the case, I knew more than anything I needed to stay for how I felt about Bishop. Which confused the hell out of me.
There was only one thing to do. It felt as dangerous as flinging myself off a cliff. But desperate times called for desperate measures.
As I glanced up at the sky, I could almost hear Gavin saying, Ah, go on and out me, Vargas. I’m dead. What harm can it do?
Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I stood up. “Look, I need to tell you something about Marley—something that might change everything you think about him.”
“What do you mean?” Bishop asked as he jumped into his jeans.
“I was never Marley’s girlfriend.”
Bishop’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What are you saying?”
“Marley was my friend, and I would do anything in the world to help him when he needed me. When he started hanging around with you and wanting to be a part of the MC world, he needed me to be his girlfriend.”
An expression of disbelief came over Bishop’s face. “You weren’t his girlfriend?”
“No.”
“You guys were never a real couple?”
“No. Just the very best of friends.”
After I braced myself for Bishop’s wrath, he merely shook his head. “Just tell me one thing.”
“Okay.”
“Why the hell would he ask you to do something like that?”
“Because Marley was gay.”
FIFTEEN
BISHOP
There are moments in life when you have the rug unceremoniously jerked out from under you, sending you crashing down onto your fucking ass. This moment felt like that feeling except hyped up on steroids. Dumbfounded, I just stood there, frozen in disbelief like a fucking statue or something. I guess Samantha realized the level of shock I was in, because she once again said, “Marley was gay.”