Chapter 27 Calder #2
“She’s your mother. She carried you for nine months. Raised you.” Saint twirls pasta around her fork. “But she might as well be a ghost in that house.”
I take a sip of water, buying time. “My mother checked out a long time ago. Can’t really blame her. Living with Roman would break anyone.”
I consider her question and stop dead as I pick the fork back up. My mother is as much of a victim in all this as I am, as we all are. Her checking out is my version of protecting Saint. She’s Roman’s favorite punching bag for a reason.
“It didn’t break you. Didn’t break your brothers.”
Her words draw me out of my head. “We’re different.” I set my glass down carefully. “We were raised to be weapons, not victims.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, fork abandoned beside her plate. “Will you tell me what to expect? Please? I’d rather know than imagine.”
I don’t need to ask what she is talking about and owe her that much, at least. The truth about what’s coming.
But the words stick in my throat, caught behind years of Bishop loyalty and secret keeping.
I’ve never seen it firsthand, obviously being the oldest of my brothers, but my father told me what would happen once I found a bride, back when I was a teenager.
“There’s something you’re not telling me,” she presses. “Something big.”
I stand, gathering our plates. “You wanted to talk about normal things. This isn’t normal.”
“Nothing about our life is normal, Calder.” She follows me to the kitchen. “But something is happening. Something beyond the ceremonies and Roman’s control. I’ve seen it in your face when you think I’m not looking. I’ve heard your whispered phone calls on the porch.”
I set the plates in the sink with more force than necessary. “Drop it, Saint.”
“Is it about Wayne? About what I did?” Her voice drops. “Are you in trouble because of me?”
“No.” I turn to face her. “Wayne was a loose end I should have handled a long time ago. You did what you had to do.”
“Then what is it? What aren’t you telling me?”
The desperation in her voice tears at something inside me. She deserves the truth. But telling her puts everything at risk.
“I can’t.” The words come out harsher than intended. “Not yet.”
“When, then?” She steps closer, close enough I can see the flecks of darker blue in her eyes. “After the ceremony? After whatever comes next? When?”
“When it’s safe.” I cup her face in my hands. “When I’m sure no one can hurt you. Not even me.”
She searches my face. “Promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“Promise me that whatever this secret is, whatever you’re planning, it won’t end with me watching you die.”
The specificity of her fear catches me off guard. “Saint—”
“Promise me, Calder.” Her hands grip my wrists, anchoring me to her. “Because if I lose you now, after everything, after Wayne, after the brand, I don’t know what I’ll become.”
The confession hangs between us, raw and honest in a way we rarely allow ourselves to be.
“I promise.” The words feel like a vow, heavier than the wedding vows we never got to take. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I don’t know if it’s a lie or not.
Her relief is visible, shoulders sagging slightly. Then she rises on her toes and presses her lips to mine, a kiss so gentle it breaks something inside me.
When she pulls back, there’s a new resolve in her eyes. “Take me shopping tomorrow.”
“What?”
“Shopping. In Billings. Before we go back.” She smiles, a small, determined curve of her lips. “If I’m going to be a Bishop wife, I might as well dress like one.”
The sudden shift throws me. “You want to go shopping?”
“Yes.” She steps back. “I want a day of pretending we’re normal.
I want to walk down a street where no one knows our names.
I want to try on clothes that don’t remind me of blood or dirt or survival.
” She takes a deep breath. “I want one day of feeling like your wife instead of your prisoner before whatever comes next.”
I should say no. Should tell her we’re returning to Black Hollow Creek first thing in the morning.
Instead, I find myself nodding. “Okay. Shopping it is.”
The next day, we spend the morning in Billings’s upscale shopping district. Saint stays close to my side, eyes wide as she takes in the luxury around her.
“I’ve never seen so many zeros on a price tag,” she murmurs as we pass a window display.
“Bishop money,” I remind her. “Spend whatever you want.”
She gives me a sidelong look. “That sounds dangerous.”
“Live dangerously for once.”
“I think marrying you covered my quota for danger.” But she’s smiling as she says it, a teasing lilt to her voice that I rarely hear.
I guide her into a boutique with tasteful displays. The saleswoman approaches immediately, and before long, Saint is ushered into a fitting room with an armful of dresses.
“What do you think?” She emerges in a deep red dress that clings to her curves, the color making her eyes look like midnight.
I take my time looking, letting her see the appreciation in my gaze. “Perfect.”
A blush spreads across her cheeks. “You think so?”
“I know so.” I stand, moving closer. “Get it. And anything else you want.”
By lunchtime, Saint is carrying several bags and wearing a new pair of boots she insisted on changing into immediately.
We sit at a café overlooking the river, talking about things we’ve never discussed before—favorite colors, music, books, and foods.
Having a normal conversation with her feels strangely intimate.
It’s the most honest we’ve ever been with each other, even surrounded by lies and half-truths.
As we exit the last store, I check my watch and realize we’ve spent the entire day just… being together. No threats. No violence. No desperate survival calculations.
Just a man and his wife, shopping and talking and existing in the same space.
“We should head back,” I tell her. “Get on the road before dark.”
She nods, though I catch the flash of disappointment in her eyes. “Of course.”
At a crosswalk, I spot a familiar face across the street, Agent Reese, pretending to window shop while keeping an eye on us. She doesn’t acknowledge me, but the message is clear: we’re being watched. If that isn’t a reason enough to get the hell out of here, I don’t know what is.
The drive back to Black Hollow Creek is quiet, both of us lost in our own thoughts. The mountains loom larger as we approach, dark sentinels marking the boundary of Bishop territory. Of our reality.
Saint stares out the window, watching the city fall away behind us. “Do you think it would have been different? If we’d gotten together another way?”
The question echoes my earlier thoughts so closely it startles me. “What do you mean?”
“If I hadn’t witnessed Martin’s murder. If you hadn’t kidnapped me. If we’d just… connected. At The Rusty Nail. Or in town. Do you think it would have been different between us?”
I consider it, trying to imagine a world where I’m not Roman’s son, where she’s not the preacher’s daughter, and where blood and duty don’t stand between us.
“Maybe.” The answer is inadequate, but it’s the only one I have. “But we didn’t.”
“No,” she agrees quietly. “We didn’t.”
As we crest the final ridge before Black Hollow Creek, my phone buzzes. Roman’s name flashes on the screen. I hit accept, putting it on speaker out of habit when I’m driving.
“Where the hell are you?” Roman’s voice fills the truck, harsh and demanding.
“Checking the eastern property line,” I lie smoothly. “What’s up?”
“Make sure you’re here and ready. Tomorrow night we need to have a little family dinner. Dress appropriately.”
The blood freezes in my veins. “Why?”
Roman growls, “Because I fucking told you to be there, Calder. Bring that little wife of yours too.”
I glance at Saint and see the color drain from her face, the way her knuckles whiten where she grips the seat.
“We’ll be there,” I manage, voice steady despite the panic clawing at my throat. “Both Saint and I.”
“Good.” Roman hangs up without another word.
The silence in the truck is consuming.
“Calder—” Saint’s voice breaks on my name.
“I know.” I reach across the console and take her cold hand in mine. “I know.”
But what I don’t say, what I can’t say, is that my plan isn’t ready. The FBI isn’t in position. Everything was set for Friday, not tomorrow.
And if he knows—if he knows—everything is going to blow up in my face. The road stretches before us, leading back to Black Hollow Creek, to Roman, to a situation I can’t protect her from without revealing everything.
At that moment, with the mountains rising around us like prison walls and Saint’s hand trembling in mine, I know I’ve run out of time.