“You are such a pussy. Be safe, see you soon.”
She hangs up before I can say anything else, typical Aurelia.
I let out a deep breath leaning my head back on the headrest. The moments I took for myself in the car were my favorite.
The rain was tapping on my windshield and the sounds of cars in the distance filled the void in my passenger seat. For the past month, I have been losing my mind. My mind is exhausted constantly. I wake up at five in the morning for conditioning. I come home, make breakfast, and force Riggs to take her medicine. I call my dad so he knows we both are okay, then head back to the facility for the second practice. I’m on edge all the time. I know Aurelia told me it wouldn’t happen again but every second that my eyes aren’t on her, I worry. I’m always worrying.
Every day is a battle for her. Each day she wakes up she has to face the world. There isn’t going to be a day that she doesn’t feel like a victim of depression. She’s bipolar and she has to accept that every day. There will always be bad days, always. And I’ll be there.
On the days she doesn’t feel like waking up, I’ll be there to push her out of bed. On days it gets hard and she just needs a break? I’ll be there with ice cream.
I’m just thankful I can be there for her. That I can attempt to support her in any way she needs me to.
I hear my phone buzz in the passenger seat and I sigh, maybe if I answer Preston he will cool it with the messages. I know he is doing it because he cares, but Jesus Christ does his phone ever die?
When the screen faces me, it isn’t Preston’s name that greets me it’s Bishop’s. Just like that, he went from being unproblematic to the center of my strife.
An ESPN headline lights up my screen. The title is something I didn’t think I’d ever read.
“Chicago Fury’s Golden Boy Talks Leaving and Being a Free Agent.”
I’d known Bishop was a free agent this year, but I never thought he’d leave the Fury. Chicago was his home. It’s the only team he has ever played for. Why would he want to leave? The only thought that popped into my mind was…
Me.
He was leaving because of me. My first year at the Chicago organization and he was ready to leave.
I watched the interview listening to him discuss leaving for New York or maybe California. My stomach hated me. I just kept watching him answer questions the reporters threw at him, but I couldn’t get past how easily he talked about leaving this place, leaving his home.
Leaving me.
Was he leaving because he couldn’t stand not being with me? Or was he running from us again?
It felt like another sick sign from the universe, telling us that we didn’t need to be together. We weren’t supposed to be.
I wasn’t mentally capable of dealing with this. Did I care about Bishop? Yes. But was I ready to give him my heart completely? Not yet.
And I don’t think giving him a small piece of me is going to be enough for B. I can’t give him what he wants right now. I can’t give him all of me, because I’m not ready. I’m not ready to trust him again. How do I know he’s ready this time? Truly ready?
If I give myself completely to Bishop and he breaks me again?
I won’t be able to recover this time.
I’m not ready to love anyone right now. I can’t be with Preston, and I can’t be with Bishop. I can’t be with anyone because I almost lost one of the most important people in my life.
Getting close to someone just to have them ripped away in a blink of an eye scared the shit out of me.
I’m not ready.
Bishop deserves someone who is ready. And that isn’t me right now.
I start my car and start my drive to the apartment. The soft sounds of eighties music carry me through the traffic. I just feel numb to it all. I am so mentally exhausted from everything that even feeling something as simple as sadness isn’t a possibility.
I am too weak to even be sad. My body aches, and my mind does the same. My poor heart has taken so many blows that she can barely feel herself beat.
When I pull into my apartment complex, I can barely manage the strength to get out of my car and up my stairs. I just want to lock the world out for a little while.
But the world wasn’t done royally fucking me yet. The universe was determined to fuck me over. I wanted to look up at the ceiling and just scream, “OKAY, I GET IT. YOU WIN, YOU SICK FUCK.”
Bishop is sitting outside of my apartment door. His head is down as I approach him.
“Is there a reason you are camping outside of my home?” My tone meant to be light, but it just comes out flat.
He lifts his head and stands up quickly, running a hand through his hair. “I was waiting for you to get here. I want to talk to you.”
I raise an eyebrow. “So you waited outside instead of going inside?”
The front door opens, and Riggs is standing in her favorite silk robe. She leans on the doorframe, eyeing Bishop carefully.
“I wouldn’t let him in. I was going to let you decide if I should call the police or not.”
Bishop rolls his eyes, and I laugh. One thing that her disorder will never change is her sense of humor.
“I can handle him, thanks though.”
She nods, making eye contact with Bishop before stepping closer to him. She’s an entire foot shorter than him, but she doesn’t give a shit. She looks like a Chihuahua trying to back down a Great Dane.
“Don’t get it twisted, I will gut you if you hurt her. My father is a politician; I know how to cover up a fucking scandal and a body.”
I giggle, covering my mouth as I do so. Bishop holds his hands up in defense. “Glad you are feeling better, Riggs.”
She flips him off, turning to head back into the apartment. “Only because my therapist says I need to work on being more thankful, thank you for the sunflowers you left in my hospital room when I woke up.”
B looks at me confused, then back at her, “I didn’t get you sunflowers, I bought the roses. Do you have a secret admirer, Aurelia?”
For two seconds it reminds me of when we were all younger. Always bantering back and forth. There was never a dull moment. It takes me back to when things were simple. When life wasn’t so messy.
Riggs doesn’t bother answering him. She just slams the door behind her leaving Bishop and me in front of my apartment door.
“Typical Riggs,” he mutters, and I nod my head in agreement. My smile begins to fade and silence falls between us. I hate that it feels like walking on eggshells when it comes to talking to him. It used to be so easy, and now it feels impossible.
Bishop scratches the back of his neck, taking in a deep breath. “So, I know you saw the interview. All of Chicago has seen it by now. I just want to let you know that I did that interview two months ago. It was before Riggs’ accident.”
I nod my head slowly. “So what does that mean? Are you staying, or are you going?”
B steps closer to me and I take a step back. It’s a tug of war between us. Except we don’t give. We just take until there is nothing left of either of us.
My back is pressed into the wall, and he’s directly in front of me. His breath is fanning across my face, and I feel his fingers gripping one of my curls tugging it lightly. It’s our hello, our goodbye, our I love you. It always has been.
“I’m not going to fuck up again. I’m done fucking things up with us. I’m not leaving Chicago, because I’m waiting. I’m waiting for you. Whenever you need me, I’ll be here.”