Chapter Forty Seven
Second Chances
Jameson Bishop
I come back slowly.
Not all at once, just pieces. Warmth first. Then weight. Then the soft, steady rhythm of someone breathing against my chest.
I open my eyes.
Rachel is curled against me in the hospital bed, her head tucked under my chin, her hand resting lightly over my heart like she’s keeping it going by touch alone. She’s asleep. Her hair brushes my jaw every time she exhales.
Gemma is in a chair in the corner, arms crossed, eyes half-closed, looking like she fought a war and won. She notices me waking and lifts her chin.
“Anyone who tried to make her leave,” she whispers, “I threatened to remove their kneecaps.”
I huff out a breath that might be a laugh. Might be a sob. Hard to tell.
Rachel shifts slightly, pressing closer, and something inside me cracks open.
She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t want to be here. Not after everything.
I swallow hard. “Gemma… if she wakes up and wants space-”
Gemma cuts me off with a look. “Don’t be stupid.”
But I can’t help it.
I look down at Rachel, her face soft, peaceful, trusting, and the guilt hits me like a wave.
“I understand if she doesn’t want me,” I whisper. “I’m older. I can’t give her children. I can’t give her the life she deserves.”
Gemma stares at me like I’ve grown a second head. “Jameson Bishop, you absolute idiot.”
Rachel stirs.
Her eyelashes flutter. Her fingers tighten slightly on my chest. She lifts her head just enough to look at me, still groggy, still hurting, but awake.
“What,” she murmurs, voice rough, “are you talking about?”
I freeze.
She shifts again, wincing, but she doesn’t pull away. She stays close, her hand still over my heart.
“You think I don’t want you?” she whispers.
I swallow. “I can’t give you children. And I’m Rachel, I’m older. You deserve-”
She cuts me off with a soft, tired laugh.
“Bishop… I can’t have children.”
The words hit me like a shock.
She reaches up, brushing her fingers against my jaw, gentle, hesitant.
“And I don’t care about your age,” she says. “I don’t care about any of that.”
Her voice thickens, trembling but sure.
“I only want you.”
My breath catches.
She leans her forehead against mine, eyes closing for a moment, her hand sliding to my cheek.
“You,” she whispers. “Just you.”
Gemma makes a small triumphant noise in the corner. “Finally.”
But I barely hear her.
Because Rachel is looking at me like I’m something worth staying alive for.
Something worth fighting for.
Something worth choosing.
And for the first time since the hallway, since the gunshot, since the darkness pulled at me…
I believe her.
Epilogue
Good Girl
Rachel Williams
The Virginia sun is warm on my shoulders. The forest and mountains surrounding the valley a perfect backdrop in the sunset.
I’m standing somewhere safe.
I’m standing next to Bishop.
His hand is wrapped around mine, thumb brushing slow circles against my skin like he still can’t believe I’m here, like he still needs the reassurance of touch. I lean into him, letting my shoulder rest against his arm as Katie walks down the aisle toward Caleb.
Katie looks beautiful, strong, steady, and a little overwhelmed. Caleb looks like he’s about to combust from emotion. It’s sweet. And intense. A lot like them, since I have gotten to know them.
Gemma sniffles loudly in the front row, eyes on Liam who stands beside Caleb looking faintly amused.
I smile and it feels good.
Bishop glances down at me, the corners of his mouth lifting. “You okay?”
I nod. “Yeah. I really am.” I have a family now.
He squeezes my hand, and something warm unfurls in my chest. Not pain. Not fear. Something softer. Something hopeful.
When Katie and Caleb say their vows, Bishop’s arm slides around my waist, pulling me closer. I don’t think he even realizes he’s doing it. He’s just… holding me. Like it’s instinct.
When the officiant pronounces them married, the crowd erupts. Caleb kisses Katie like he’s waited his whole life for it. Katie laughs into his mouth. It’s perfect.
We walk toward the reception tent, Bishop’s arm still around me, my fingers still tangled with his. The mountains rise in the distance, green and endless.
I stop him just outside the tent.
He turns, brows lifting. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I slide my hands up his chest, feeling the steady beat beneath my palms. “Everything’s right.”
His eyes soften. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I rise onto my toes and kiss him.. His hands settle on my waist, gentle but sure, like he’s afraid to break me.
When I pull back, I whisper, “We made it.”
He brushes his thumb along my cheek. “We did.”
“Come with me.” I tell him quietly, pulling him away and onto the path to the woods. With a smile, he allows me to pull him into the trees.
Beth is gone. The danger is gone. The fear is gone.
And Bishop?
He’s here.
He’s mine.
I get down on my knees.
“I need you to tell me what a good girl I am.”