I reached into my purse to grab my phone and send Sharon a text, knowing she’d want an update. She’d been so worried when I’d shown up at the hospital to relieve her. I couldn't thank the woman enough. She’d really been there for us, and if she hadn’t heard my dad, I don’t know how the night would have played out.
When I had my phone, I saw the black screen and realized it was turned off. In my haste to leave Bishop’s place and come here, I accidentally shut it off. I turned it on, and a moment later there was text after text from Bishop. So many missed calls I could sense his panic as he tried to contact me. Before I could call him back—though I didn’t even know what to say and didn’t want to leave my dad—my cell started ringing.
It was Bishop, and I felt this warmth fill me.
“Ah, so it’s a guy calling.” I snapped my head up, knowing my expression was surprised. “Sweetheart, I’m your dad. I can tell when my little girl is in love.” I felt my eyes widen at that. All my father did was chuckle and shake his head. “Answer it. Don’t let the boy hang on the line. But,” he said, his voice going deep and stern, “I want to meet him at some point when I am up and healing. I want to make sure he’s treating my daughter right and that he knows if he messes up, he’ll deal with me.”
I couldn’t help but smile at that. “Deal,” I whispered, not bothering to deny anything he’d said. I did love Bishop, but I guess I hadn’t allowed myself to really realize it until it was thrown right back at me.
My cell stopped ringing, but I felt it vibrate with a couple incoming texts. Then it was ringing again.
“Answer it, honey. And don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere, and I’ll be fine.”
I stood, leaning down to kiss his knuckles, then left him alone to rest in his room. I shut the door behind me and leaned against it, the hallway on this floor of the hospital quiet this time of night, or early morning, or whatever time it even was. I was so turned around I didn't know up from down.
I slid my finger over the screen, answering the call and putting the phone to my ear. For a second I couldn't say anything, and there was this silence that was thick and suffocating.
“Korrie?” Bishop prompted, urgency in this voice. I could practically hear him running his hand through his hair, stress surrounding him. “Baby,” he said, and I closed my eyes at the deepness of his voice, the sorrow that was thick in it. I also felt something warm and real at the endearment he uttered.
He felt relieved to hear my voice.
“Korrie?” His voice was a little more strangled, as if he were afraid the connection had been lost.
“I’m here,” I croaked, then cleared my throat. “I’m here, Bishop.” I exhaled, heard him do the same, and again I could envision him pacing back and forth. “I’m sorry I just up and left without saying anything.”
He exhaled again. “Baby, that's fine. It’s fine. I’m not even thinking about that, so don’t you worry.” I could hear him pacing, the sound of his heavy boots hitting the ground somehow coming through the receiver.
Overhead, I heard a doctor being paged, but then my brows knitted as I heard the echo of the same page come through the receiver… as if Bishop was here in the hospital.
“Bishop?” My heart was thundering. “You’re here? How? Why?” My mind was racing, and I turned and looked back at my father. He lay still in the bed, his hands clasped on his chest, his eyes closed, a relaxed expression on his face. It made me feel relieved, even though I knew he had a hard, long road of recovery ahead of him.
“I am here,” he exhaled, the sound of him still pacing seeming to grow louder. “I tried calling, knew something had to be wrong for you to leave without saying anything.” I could hear his unspoken words, I hoped like hell you didn’t leave because of me.
“They won’t give me any fucking information, Korrie.” He sounded strained, like he was in a frantic place in his mind. “I didn't know your father’s first name, and giving them his last name, which I assumed was the same as yours, got me nothing.” He sounded pissed, growling out his words. “I’m about to lose my shit on these people,” he uttered.
“How long have you been here?”
He was silent for a moment, and again I could picture him checking the time. “Not that long. They almost kicked me out, because I made a scene about how they better give me some fucking information.”
I could actually picture that, even smiled a little, and it felt good to feel something other than sorrow right now. But then my smile faltered as I thought about Bishop being so worried about me that he’d come here. “How did you know I was here?” My feet were taking me to the bank of elevators before I even knew I was moving.
Then I was inside. The doors closed. My finger pushed the L button for the lobby. And then I was descending. There was static on the other end, Bishop saying something, but the connected kept cutting in and out because I was in the metal box.
“Ko—” The dinging sound as I descended floors filled my head. “Korr—” Bishop’s deep voice kept breaking up, but I could hear it becoming deeper, his panic growing.
My heart swelled, this unfamiliar feeling once again consuming me.
“Hold on, Bishop.” I wasn't sure he heard me, but it didn’t matter because the doors opened a moment later. I waited until a burly man with a bouquet of flowers and a blue teddy-bear-shaped balloon that said Welcome Baby Boy stepped inside. I excused myself around him, the waiting room to my right, a reception desk to my left. “Bishop?” I prompted, but my phone kept going in and out, the reception awful.
Perfect freaking timing.
I pulled the phone away and looked down; the call had already disconnected. I shoved the cell into my pocket and started looking through the throng of people, searching for Bishop. There were so many that it was hard to wade through everyone, but then I saw him across the waiting room, his body towering over everyone else.
And my heart stuttered, the breath leaving me. Seeing him made me feel… right. Centered. Like everything would be okay.
16
Korrie
He was pacing, everyone getting out of his way. He looked angry, moving back and forth, running his hands over his short dark hair.
He pulled his cell away and frowned down at it, his mouth moving in what was a clear curse. He started typing a text out, cursed again, then brought the phone to his ear. I knew he was calling me again, but with no reception, he was probably getting my voice mail right away.
He turned to face me, his eyes locked on the ground as he continued to pace. He pulled his phone away, shoved it in his jacket pocket, and started striding forward, his focus on the reception desk. I knew he planned on trying to push it again about going up to the ICU to see my father. I could see that determination on his face, etched into the very scowl he carried in his expression.
And then he started looking around the room, his eyes moving back and forth before settling on me. His entire body stopped, and I could see how tight his muscles became. We didn’t move for long moments, just stared at each other. The people started parting, as if they knew Bishop and I would want a clear path.