Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Nash
T he bright sun warms my skin on the relatively beautiful autumn morning, as I shine Daisy’s tires out by the barn. It’s uncommon for such weather this late in the fall, but you won’t find me complaining. It’s the one thing I enjoyed most about my recent years out in the desert. Phoenix was scorching hot, and riding my bike out there, even during those hot summer nights out on the highway, was something I was really missing. The winters were cold, but that’s when I wandered out west to California and spent some time with Beau.
I may not have reached out to Monty and Monroe when I was gone, but with Theo and Beau, who had also left town shortly after me, I’d check in every so often. It was easier with Beau since he stayed out in California and worked a more steady career in luxury real estate. Theo was always out on the road, being one of Country Music's most popular stars of the decade, so most of our reunions were when his tour coincided with whatever city I was currently in.
Though I didn't miss the solitude. Somehow, I was growing accustomed to having other people around me ever since I’ve been back home, but I missed the freedom of it all. Not knowing what the day was going to bring, or holding out any expectations.
Every day was a surprise and a gift to be alive since most of the time, I wasn’t sure it was something I could guarantee. I wasn’t an outlaw like the folk I hung around with, but being near them always put a target on my back from their enemies since, regardless of my ties, I was offered their protection for my loyalty. I hadn’t spoken to Dex since I left, giving him no certain answer on if I'd go back. I knew if I decided to, the doors to his club would remain open for me.
Only now, I wasn't sure I wanted to return to the life I lived before I reunited with Bailey.
We might fool ourselves into thinking anything between us is possible, but I’m not worried about figuring that out right now. All I want is to be by her side and continue to indulge in the decadent sweetness that is her.
It’s been a week since we accepted our reunion was inevitable and stopped fighting it. Seven days and already I feel like I’m walking on eggshells when I’m with her, not wanting to say or do the wrong thing and ruin the good times we’ve had. Luckily, we’ve been so busy there has been little time to sit and talk about what the hell it is we are doing.
“I need you to take me to see Franklin.” My little sister appears before me, her figure gleaming in the sunlight as I look up from my spot kneeled before my bike. Was it foolish to think seven days would be long enough to make her forget this foolish need to see him?
“Does Monty know what you’re up to, Izzy?” I ask, already knowing the answer. Since Monty left early this morning to pick up the tile samples for the remodel he’s doing to the downstairs bathroom at their house, my sister’s decided this is the perfect time to come see me.
Monty and I have been together all week, tirelessly working to make as much progress as possible before our deadline, which left Monroe no opportunity to get me alone. I haven't told my brothers the truth about my visit to our father that morning, but I expect they'll find out soon.
Aware that her lie is exposed, Monroe refuses to make eye contact. “No, and that’s why I’m here. He’s extremely overprotective and still treats me like the weak little girl I was when he took me in, but not you,” she says, pointedly looking my way now. “You don’t care what happens to me, so it shouldn’t matter to you whether I get hurt.”
I stand, wiping my fingers as much as I can, and tucking the dirty rag into my back pocket. “Izzy, you know that’s not true.”
She lets out a scant breath, placing a hand on her jutted out hip. “Do I Nash? Because I’m not sure what you’ve done that’s proved otherwise. Anyway, I’m not in the mood to get into that again. Are you going to take me, or should I figure out a way to get there on my own?”
I knew this day was inevitable, and honestly, after spending a week contemplating the pros and cons of the situation, I’m not opposed to letting her see our father. I don’t want my little sister to one day regret anything about her lack of connection to him. Franklin doesn’t get to continue to haunt her and torment her from beyond the grave. Not when he’s already done so much.
Patting the seat of my bike, I give her a wide, taunting smile. “Hop on, little sis.”
We take over an hour to drive the twenty miles to West Rivers Bend thanks to the derailment of a shipment of swine being driven to a nearby slaughterhouse. Monroe said it was fate that stopped the poor animals from being taken, as the two men had to spend hours herding the animals back and returning them back to the farm.
Once the officers removed most of them off the highway, the traffic picked up, allowing us to arrive just after lunchtime.
“Mr. Bishop,” Jackie, the nurse that showed Jase and I to my father’s room last week, says as she meets Monroe and me in the clinic’s waiting room.
“Jackie, this is my sister Monroe,” I tell her, not sure what else to say. It’s awkward enough to be back here after my last visit was no more than the ten-minute conversation my father and I had, but Jackie’s called me twice in the last week, and left two voicemails I haven’t gotten myself to listen to.
I’d added myself as Franklin’s emergency contact instead of Monty, mainly because I didn’t want my brother to find out I came out here to see him. This morning as Monroe practically demanded I bring her out here, I was afraid we’d arrive and learn Franklin was no longer with us.
The pity on Jackie’s face as she looks between Monroe and me proves I might not be far off.
“It’s great to meet you, Monroe. Please, follow me.” I reach for Monroe’s hand, but she swats it away, stepping in front of me as we follow Jackie down the right corridor and toward Franklin’s room. Though just before we enter, Jackie halts, nearly making Monroe crash into her back. “Look, kids,” she says, her tone low and solemn. “I’m going to be honest with you. Frank’s not doing well. Things took a turn for the worst last night. It’s why I called you,” she says, turning toward me, referring to the phone call I ignored.
Monroe’s angry glare meets mine, a warning that she won’t forgive me if we’ve arrived too late. But it’s the moment we walk into the room that my stomach knots in a mess of anxious nerves. The sound of the oxygen machine fills the room. The steady soft hum of the compressor as it sucks air in and the hiss as it releases it through the tubes in his nose makes my skin crawl. It’s an eerie sensation, forcing Monroe to let out a sharp gasp as his bed comes into view.
Franklin’s connected to more machines than he had been last week, his thin frame barely visible through the hordes of medical equipment. Yet I can’t help but feel the mechanical hum of the equipment is a reassuring noise in the otherwise dreadful silence that meets us.
Monroe freezes at his feet, unable to move forward, but I step around her and walk over to the side of his bed. His eyes are open, though there’s no semblance of life in them.
“He can hear you,” Jackie says, as she steps beside Monroe, leaving her enough space so she won’t feel even more suffocated than she already does in the small space. “I’m just not sure he’ll respond.”
When neither of us says anything, Jackie excuses herself, letting us know she’ll be back in a few minutes to check on him. If she’s the nurse who called me last night, and is back here this morning, it means she was working around the clock to care for him. Jackie seems like the kind, caring nurse that would go out of her way to watch over someone who has no one else.
The way she speaks of him makes me feel like she’s grown to care for the old man.
The same feeling I had when I left him last week resurfaces when I look at my dying father. No sadness or regret for the things I did or said to him, but an overwhelming feeling of dread for what comes next.
I shouldn’t have brought Monroe. I can see that now as I watch her, tears brimming in her solemn eyes as she stares at the man she once loved and now resents. She was only a child and could never understand the magnitude of a fuck-up Franklin was for refusing to care for or even see his daughter. It may have been in her best interest that he stayed away, but it doesn’t make up for the fact my sister has probably grown up with a fear of commitment, trust issues, and a whole heap of trauma because the man in her life failed her.
“Izzy,” I call out as she slowly walks over to his side. Crouching over his beside, she reaches for him, gently taking his hand in hers, but she doesn’t say a thing. Franklin’s head turns just enough that his eyes meet hers. There’s no emotion in them, but he’s looking straight at her before looking up at me.
“I forgive you,” Monroe murmurs low enough that if it weren’t for the single tear that slips onto his cheek, I wouldn’t have known. “You may not need me too, but I want you to know I do. Not because you deserve it, but because we need to.” She cradles her stomach, and I’m afraid she’s about to vomit again or burst into tears.
Franklin sucks in a breath. The sound as he exhales reminds me of a tire, losing air right before falling completely flat. “Beau,” he mutters, looking up at me and I understand what he means. There’s no other reason he’d say any of my brother’s names.
The room grows cold and grim as Franklin Montgomery Bishop’s final breath leaves him. Jackie enters, shutting off the loud blare of the heart monitor, leaving us to wallow in the eerie silence wafting over us like a dark stormy cloud of grief.
Monroe stands back, allowing Jackie to stand at his bedside, placing a hand over his face and closing his eyes.
A single tear sheds out of my eyes, not from sadness but from the relief that washes over me. That is until I hear a loud clatter and turn to see Monroe lying on the ground at my feet.
S itting in a hospital room watching Monroe fast asleep in her bed was not how I expected my day to go. After this turn of events, I’m completely exhausted.
There’s a peaceful look on my sister’s face as she sleeps, a sense of calm washing over me when I catch the slow rise and fall of her chest. My heart nearly gave out as I watched her fall to the floor after witnessing Franklin’s life leave him right in front of us.
It all happened so fast. In a rush of adrenaline, I fell to my knees, cradling her limp body in my arms as I tried to wake her. I could hear the shouts that left me, but the rest of the room was dark and blurred until Jackie came over to us and checked her vitals. The moment she shouted out to another nurse who entered the room that she found a pulse, relief washed over me.
I’d never been so scared, or felt so completely useless. The shift on the bed catches my attention as Monroe opens her eyes and sees me sitting on the couch. “Nash,” she murmurs, sitting up with a pained groan.
I jump to my feet and rush to her side. “Hey, careful. Don’t exert yourself too much. You need to rest.”
“You’re here?” she asks, under her breath, and I give her a soft, reassuring smile. Bright blue eyes brim with tears yet again as she watches me, cogs turning in her head, trying to make sense of why I’d be by her side when she’s been nothing but cold and distant with me.
“Where else would I be, Iz?”
The room she was admitted into down at the general hospital in Rivers Bend is small and homey. There’s a sofa bed on one side of the room beside a cabinet like closet, and a small round dining table with two chairs on the other. Like all rooms at the hospital, the attached bathroom is just to the left of the entryway.
After she wouldn’t wake, Jackie called an ambulance and had her transferred here just to be safe. To say it was the scariest thing I had to bear witness to was an understatement.
The door to the room opens and in enters an older woman wearing a doctor's coat and holding a clipboard. “Ms. Bishop,” she says as she approaches Monroe’s bed. “I’m Dr. Colbrooke, your attending physician.”
“How is she?” I blurt out, my tone deep and demanding, startling the poor woman.
“All good, Mr. Bishop.” She turns her smile back on Monroe. “Just a minor dizzy spell, given your situation. It's quite normal.” Monroe’s face pales as the woman continues speaking and I’m almost sure she’s about to pass out again. “Your glucose levels were slightly elevated, so check in with your OBGYN about that as you near your second trimester. They might want to monitor those more closely.”
Remember when I mentioned my heart stopping as I watched my sister pass out before me? Yeah, well, it’s about to happen again. Only this time, I’m the one who’s about to hit the floor.
“Second trimester? What are you talking about?” I shout out louder than I’d planned.
Dr. Colbrooke suddenly goes just as pale as Monroe and me, stuttering as she tries to regain composure. Her attention falls on Monroe, who’s as white as a ghost. “My apologies Ms. Bishop, I shouldn’t have.”
“It’s fine,” Monroe assures her, refusing to meet my gaze. “He was going to find out at some point, though I didn’t think he’d stay long enough to see me start to show.”
“I’ll give you two a moment,” she mutters under her breath, giving me a not so friendly smile as she exits the room.
“Monroe, what the fuck was she talking about?” I can feel my pulse thrumming in my ears as I fear my sister’s going to confirm what I already suspect.
She sits up in the bed, running a hand through her hair. “Well, there’s no time like the present. I’m pregnant, Nash, it’s probably why I passed out. I haven’t eaten all day. I'm sick all the time, never have an appetite, and can’t keep anything down.”
My eyes widen in shock as I process what she’s saying. My mind is racing, a whirlwind of anger, fear and confusion flooding my thoughts. Stammering slightly, I finally speak. “What the fuck do you mean, you’re pregnant?”
“What I mean is I had sex, and it ended with me getting pregnant. I’m sure I don’t have to explain to you, of all people, how this works.” I’m aware that the sarcasm in her tone is just a deflection, a coping mechanism, to deal with the uncertainty currently flooding her, but my anger is mine. Her eyes display a mix of fear and nervousness, as she awaits my response and it’s when I realize this is really happening. “Does Monty know?”
She lets out a sharp laugh, rolling her eyes as she avoids meeting my glare. “No, and you are not going to tell him.”
Like that’s going to fucking happen. Monty’s surely already going to chop my fucking balls off for taking her to see Franklin and having her witness what we did. Now, on top of that, this will somehow end up being my fault, too. “Izzy, you can’t be fucking serious?”
Sitting up in the hospital bed, her eyes free of any makeup, since her tears washed it away, she looks so young. If it weren’t for the delicate tattoos painting her skin, you’d think she was in her early twenties, an innocent little girl who’s scared her life is about to turn upside down.
“I will tell him,” she says, though she doesn’t sound so sure.
Now it’s my turn to laugh, although this isn’t funny in the slightest. “When, huh? When you’re nine months pregnant and can no longer hide it? Or are you just planning to sneak a baby into his home and hope he doesn't realize it?”
My sarcasm comes off harshly, but all I’m trying to do is understand where she’s coming from. Dr. Colbrooke said she was approaching her second trimester. I’m not an idiot. I know what that means. “It crossed my mind, but no. I will tell him whenever I want to tell him.”
“Whose is it?”
“What?” she stutters in surprise.
“Who the fuck thought it was okay to get you pregnant? Who the fuck touched you, Monroe?” My anger may be uncalled for, but it doesn’t mean I can shut off the protective nature that came over me watching my little sister suffer so much.
Her wide eyes watch me quizzically. “You never call me Monroe.”
I scoff. “Stop changing the subject and tell me who the fuck…”
“No!” she shouts out, and finally her anger meets mine. This is the girl I’ve come accustomed to seeing. The one who’s always on the attack. The one who calls me out on my bullshit and doesn’t take any of my shit without giving some back. “You don’t get to just demand it because you think someone defiled your little sister. You know why I was never planning on telling you, Nash? Because I didn't think you’d be here long enough to find out. This is temporary, is it not? Just here until you can help Monty with the house or until Franklin?—”
Her voice gets caught in her throat as the memory of what happened earlier today comes back to her.
I feel like a fucking asshole for behaving like this, but I can’t help it. It’s my biggest flaw. I know when I’m doing something wrong, when my reactions are uncalled for, but I can’t stop myself. It’s the reason I’ve stayed away from everyone I’ve cared for. All I do is make shit worse for those around me. It’s why I can’t stay in Crossroads.
“Izzy, it’s not that simple.”
“Bullshit,” she shouts, sitting up straighter. “You want to come at me with, ‘ who the fuck did thi s?’ Let me ask you this. What the fuck is your plan with Bailey? Are you going to swoop her off her feet with this changed man persona you’ve taken on and then break her heart all over again when you ride off on the back of that death trap you love so much?”
Monroe’s questions catch me off guard. I didn’t think she was aware of what was going on between Bailey and me. Bailey doesn't seem like the type to go running off and gossiping about what occurred if she barely even speaks to me about it. Though, despite my initial surprise, I have to assume this is something Bailey confided in Monroe and possibly even Billie, and figure out what it means if she did.
“This isn’t about Bailey and me,” I tell Monroe, not allowing her attempt at deflection to throw me off the problem at hand. “It’s about who’s going to be by your side through all this.” She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest, ignoring my probing questions like this isn’t a big deal and she has it all figured out.
“Well, you can rest assured he’s not.”
Oh, there is no fucking way this asshole who got her pregnant is going to walk away from this unscathed. “Like hell he isn’t.”
Her glacial eyes meet mine head on as she attempts to stand to her feet. In an instant, I’m by her side, extending my arm out to her, but she swats it away. “He’s not because I’m not planning on telling you, Monty or anyone who the father is. I’m not even planning on telling him.”
I’m swimming through uncharted waters here, not sure how else I’m supposed to respond. Being the youngest of my four brothers, I was never responsible for anyone but myself. I have no clue what to do now that my little sister is telling me she’s having a baby and planning to do this whole thing on her own.
I want to explain where I’m coming from, but she won’t hear it. She has no reason to listen to me because she’s right. I haven’t been around. I know nothing about the woman my sister has become and giving my opinion, rather demanding things I know nothing about. Of course, she has the right to fight me on everything I say or do.
Monroe takes my silence as the opportunity to further deflect as she slides back into the bed. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Just leave, please. I’ll call Monty to pick me up. I just ask that you let me tell him. I already know he’s going to lose his shit. I don’t want him to hear this from anyone else.”
I swallow back my pride and everything I want to say to her, realizing this isn’t the time or place for me to tell her all the ways she went wrong or what a terrible idea it is to try to do this all on her own. It’s obvious she’s scared, terrified of how this will affect her relationship with Monty. Nervous about whether he’ll be upset or, worse, disappointed.
What Monroe needs right now is her brother, the one who's been gone and hasn’t tried to repair the relationship he affected most with his departure. She has no reason to listen to me or trust me with this, but I need to prove to her she can.
I have to stop being so selfish. Stop blaming myself for things I had no control over as a young kid. As an adolescent who let my pride prohibit me from seeing reason. A man who let someone more powerful and influential dictate how I lived my life and hurt those in it. I have to make things right of my accord. Because I want to. Because those I’ve hurt deserve it.
“Izzy,” I say, taking her hand in mine and placing a soft kiss along her knuckles. I don't know how I hadn’t noticed something was wrong before. My sister isn’t only pale and gauntly thin, but she’s frail and as a woman who’s pregnant, this can’t be good for her or the baby’s health. “I’m sorry. For leaving, for blocking you out of my life all these years. I did it because you, this town, and everything reminded me of her. After what happened between us, I couldn’t stand it. I shouldn’t have shut you out, but when I finally realized it, it was too late. I knew you wouldn’t forgive me. I knew I didn’t deserve it if you had.”
Tears brim from her eyes and fall against her flushed cheeks, with the back of my hand I swipe them away, hating how much fear and anguish I see reflected in them. Monroe’s incredibly beautiful and strong. The intricate tattoos that cover her skin make her look invincible, impenetrable to any noise from the outside but just like everyone else, she’s human and her outer armor is just a shield to protect the young girl inside who’s suffered so much and had to endure the pain and rejection of those in her life who should have protected her.
“Nash,” she says, between choked cries. “We’re family. I have lost so much. Mom, you, now him. Beau and Theo are just as clueless about what it means to be a family, but if there’s any chance that you’re here to stay…”
I stop her before she can continue, knowing I can’t do what she’s about to ask. “I can’t…”
Now it’s she who reaches for me, placing a finger over my lips to silence me. “If any part of you, however small, thinks you could stay longer, I don’t want to lose you again because of some stupid sense of doing what is right. For fear of staying and letting fate decide what’s best for you. Do you know what I felt just now, as I watched life leave our father’s eyes?”
I close my eyes, not wanting to replay the image of my father’s last breath, of staring at the emptiness in his eyes, of watching Monroe fall to my feet and assuming the worst. Though, I know what she means, because it’s exactly what I felt. Tears continue to fall from her eyes at my understanding. Eyes nearly identical to mine in not only color but in the pain they reflect. Understanding about the uncertainty and confusion about the man we both just saw take his last breath and why, the only thing we both felt was relief.
“I don’t want to leave, but I can’t stay.”
She shakes her head, refusing to believe me. “Why? Because staying feels right?” her grip on my hand tightens, and this time, it’s I who wish this conversation would end. “I know you care about her. I can see it when you’re together. I can feel your pain as we sit here and talk. What I don’t understand is what are you so afraid of?”
I don’t get to answer her before Monty comes barging in through the door, swinging it on its hinges and watching as it slams into the wall. “Monroe?”
“Sir, you can’t run in there,” a nurse says, chasing after him.
“Please, it’s okay,” Monroe assures her. “I’ll make sure he’s more careful and considerate.” Reluctantly, the young nurse nods her head and exits, slowly closing the door behind her as to show Monty how one should behave. “Hey Monty,” Monroe says, refusing to meet his gaze. Instead, she looks up at me, pleading for me to stay silent about this.
His green glacial eyes turn to me as he rushes me, taking the collar of my shirt in his hand and slamming me into the wall at my back. “What the fuck did you do? How could you take her to him? To let her witness that?”
“Monty, please. I asked him to take me.” Monroe cries out in a desperate attempt to calm our oldest brother, but Monty isn’t behaving like one. He’s reacting like a father who heard the news of his daughter being rushed to the hospital and didn’t know the extent of her injuries.
“I’ll deal with you later,” he says, without turning to her, keeping his murderous eyes on mine. There’s a hole in my stomach as I stare at the anger and disappointment looking back at me. He’s not upset about me taking her. He’s disappointed that I would do something this reckless and remind him I’m the same careless kid I always was, putting my own selfish needs and feelings over everyone else.
“Look, Monty,” I try to say, but he shuts me up when his fist on my neck tightens. “How could you, Nash?” His voice is low, the anger gone and in its place, a despairingly grim tone. “You should have fucking known better and not taken her to see him knowing how bad things were. You went to go see him last week, so I know you expected this to happen sooner rather than later and you still took her.”
“She would have gone without me. Would you have preferred she be there alone when it happened?” There's a glimpse of surprise in his expression that I argued with him rather than admit I was wrong and careless. But It’s the truth. Monroe was determined to see our father, and she would have done so with or without my help.
Monty releases me, reason returning to the mind of the temperamental brute. “Nash, it’s okay,” Monroe assures me as she comes to stand beside me. Monty turns his attention to her, dumbstruck at why she’s acting nice to me. Her brows raise as she meets his scowl head on, not being one bit intimidated by the man. “He’ll get over it. He’s just a fucking hothead who doesn’t think before he acts.” She places a hand on my chest over my heart and I cradle it tighter against me. “Thank you, not only for taking me, but for being here for me. I hope you take the advice I’ve given you and do something for yourself for once. Don’t listen to the outside noise, do what feels right in here.”
I’ve missed this. All of it. Monroe growing up and becoming a woman wise beyond her years. The feeling of having a family on my side, backing me up regardless of the fuck-up I turned out to be. I missed it all because of some stupid sense of duty to protect her and everyone who meant so much to me. I left them behind instead of asking for their support.
I bring her in, placing a kiss on her forehead. “When did you get so wise, Iz?”
She lets out a soft laugh but doesn’t pull away. Instead, she cradles her head further against my chest before wrapping her arms around my waist. “It took ten whole years, Nash. I’m just glad you’re back to see it.”
Monty shakes his head, tsking as he watches us. “Who would have thought the death of the old bastard would have been the medicine we all needed to heal?”
That forces Monroe to straighten up and reach for Monty. She pulls him toward us, wrapping an arm around him while her other remains hooked to me. “You can only heal what’s been hurt and broken. None of us would have ever struggled so much if it hadn’t been for him.”
Ain’t that the fucking truth. Now, all I have to do is figure out how I’m going to fix what I’ve broken and make things right with those I’ve hurt.