Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Nash
G rowing up as the youngest of four boys, there wasn’t anything I couldn’t do. I was born with three built in best friends who understood me better than anyone because they knew everything about me. Not only did we share blood, parents, and lived in the same home, but we knew everything there was to know about each other's childhood, went through similar traumas, and dealt with the same adversity.
Yet, I felt out of place in my family. Monty, Beau and Theo had an entire life together before me—despite that they were only six, four, and three years older than me, respectively. I wasn’t like them. As we grew older, my opposing personality and outlook on life became more clear. Unlike the three of my brothers, trouble followed me everywhere I went.
In the years before I was born, Monty used to tell me things weren’t all that bad between Delia and Franklin. They never were the poster couple for a healthy, love filled marriage, but they also weren’t as abusive and neglectful as they soon would become. Something happened after I was born. Delia fell into a deep depression that turned her into the husk of a woman she once was, all while Franklin became more aggressive toward her, my brother’s and I.
Two years later, they had Monroe, and for a while, things were back to normal. Not sure why they thought another child would solve their endless list of marital woes and troubles, but when she found out she was finally having a baby girl, it was like my mother became someone new—her old self. She was kind and loving toward us and I’d never seen her so excited about something, though it didn’t last. When Monroe was about four years old, the hatred and resentment our parents felt for one another resulted in Franklin’s severe alcoholism, and our mother finally succumbing to the mental health issues which had always plagued her.
That’s when my brothers and I knew we had to stick together. We only had each other, no parental figures to support us and guide us through life. We had one responsibility, and that was to be a united front for Monroe. I was only two years older than her, but soon enough, I learned what it meant to be a burden no one wanted to deal with. Monty tried his best to protect us, but Franklin knew when to act. He knew Monty would try to stop him, so he ensured his violent and abusive behavior, toward me in particular, occurred when he, or any of my brothers, weren’t around.
Franklin’s abuse and Delia’s neglect became our new normal. Although Monty was there for us in any way he could be, he knew there was really nothing he could do without risking Franklin turning his anger on Monroe. That was his biggest fear. It was mine too, which is why I think I took on the bulk of my father’s fury. Other than my brothers, who were old enough to be out of the house on their own, I had little freedom because of my age. Monty grew older and began thinking of his own future. Beau and Theo were busy with whatever girls they were trying to impress, ?and I had no one to relate to the shit I was dealing with.
Not until I was about thirteen and began spending more time out in town or around the vacant plots of land on the nearby properties, looking for trouble of my own. That’s when I met Jase—not that we had the slightest bit in common, but I think that’s exactly why our friendship worked. By befriending the enemy, I rebelled against every shitty thing I’d been dealt.
Jase had his own demons to fight, given his father was one of the most influential and well-respected men in all of Crossroads, but that title came with a responsibility of always being the exemplary son—something Jase had no interest in being. I used to tease him that our friendship resulted from his father's direct opposition. For a long time, I’d thought the only reason Franklin hated Bismarck King so much was because of the success and wealth he’d come into. Where my father was a deadbeat alcoholic with no promising future and only a plot of land to his name, Bismarck had everything. A large plot of land with a beautiful house, a fortune inherited from his father, and the love and support of his family.
All I’d known then was the two of them had grown up together, attended the same school, but that was as far as their relationship went. There was always a distaste toward them but soon after the issues between my parents began, Franklin’s hatred of Mayor King went far beyond some school age rivalry. His hatred ran deep and when he found out I had befriended Jase, he sent me to the hospital with broken ribs.
Years later, when I discovered the truth behind his hatred, it made so much sense.
I think that’s why the guilt I felt for what I’d done with Bailey hit so hard. I didn’t want my relationship with Jase to become anything like our fathers. Regardless of whether I felt something for her, I should have known better than to get involved with her. Bottom line is that Jase trusted me. I’d given him my word when I first met Bailey—when it was obvious she had hearts in her eyes the moment she looked my way. I promised him I would never cross the line with her.
Jase’s reaction when I did was expected, and although I never asked for his forgiveness or deserved an apology, I regret how badly it ruined our friendship. This trip down memory lane wasn’t something I wanted to take, but it was all I could think about as Jase’s truck pulled into my family’s yard.
Especially now that I knew what Bailey and I had was something worth fighting for.
The midnight blue F250 Super Duty was a monster as it drifted through the overgrown weeds we’d yet to remove from the landscape. The engine roared as it steered through the dry terrain, crushing the weeds under its tires. Jase’s eyes met mine, a flicker of uncertainty flashing within as he exited the cab. He embodies a sense of power and control as he struts toward me.
The last time we were together, he’d asked me if there was anything between Bailey and me he should be worried about. I denied it, though I also disappeared with her moments later. I’m sure the reason he’s come out here is that he’s suspicious.
“Never thought I’d see you back out here,” I tell him as he approaches. He’s dressed for the occasion, distressed jeans, a navy blue Carolina Panthers t-shirt that’s seen better days—probably since the last time the Panthers appeared in the playoffs—and a pair of worn out cowboy boots. Though it’s his mop of blonde hair, which is longer than I’ve ever seen on him, covered in a navy blue UNC Baseball cap, that makes him look unlike the guy I once called best friend.
The years have been good to Jase, but gone is his carefree nature and in its place there’s a haunted look in his gaze that reminds me of one I see when I look in the mirror every morning.
Looking around at the state of the ranch, he shows no emotion or insight into what he’s thinking. “Yeah, well, it’s been years since this place looked remotely viable. Didn’t quite know what type of creature I’d find out here in the weeds.”
We’re three weeks out from our completion timeline, and I’d never been more confident that we were going to make it to our deadline. The main house is nearly complete, just the last of the kitchen appliances and light furnishing need to be installed, while the brand new barn storage we built is fully functional, currently housing materials, tools, and my Daisy.
“You can relax. There ain’t any monsters out here anymore.”
“Place looks good. Honestly, I’ll admit I doubted you’d be able to get it done. It’s almost unrecognizable.”
“Yeah, you should see the inside. Monty outdid himself with the layout and new floor plan, but Monroe helped put everything together with her unique eye for design.” I notice him grow tense at the mention of my sister, but brush it off. Preferring to get down to why he’s driven all the way out here today. “Anyway, what brings you out to my neck of the woods?”
He looks nervous as he tucks his hands into the pocket of his jeans. “Just stopping by to see if you want to go for some burgers and beers, my treat.”
My brows raise in question. Well, that’s unlike him. “Why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
I choke out a laugh at the defensive tone in his voice. Something is up with Jase. It has been, it seems, since before I came back to town. “I mean, what’s the real reason you want to wine and dine me, Jase?”
With a shrug of his shoulders, he kicks a rock into the dirt at my feet. “Can’t an old friend invite an old friend for some food?”
“Not that I believe you, but I can’t. I have some things I need to do.” He tenses. “Don’t worry, it isn't what you’re thinking. I’m going to see Franklin.”
That catches his attention. “Want some company?”
I must have heard him wrong because there’s no way Jameson King just offered to come with me to visit my dying father. The same father his family has hated since I’ve known them. “You want to come with me to see my father?”
“I want to stand beside my friend, as he does something I know can’t be easy.” He turns on his heels and steps back over to the driver’s side of his truck. “Then you’ll take me out for burgers and beers.”
P ulling into the parking lot of West Rivers Bend Hospice Center, I can sense Jase tense beside me as his fingers tighten around the steering wheel. I’d only briefly mentioned how badly Franklin’s health was deteriorating, but until now, I don’t think he truly realized what I’d meant. Last week, Monty received a call from the hospital letting him know they were officially transferring our father into their hospice clinic downtown, since it looked like the inevitable was quickly approaching.
It wasn’t unexpected, yet something about the call didn’t sit right with me. I’ve spent the entire week contemplating if I’d be coming out here to see him or not. There’s some unfinished business I have with my father, something I don’t think I’d be able to move on from without answers.
Jase walks by my side as we cross the parking lot and head through the front doors of the clinic. “How may I help you?” The sweet front desk receptionist says as she watches us approach her desk.
“Franklin Bishop,” is all I say, and the woman immediately knows where to lead us.
“Right this way son,” another woman, this one a nurse, says, leading us down the right hallway toward a wing of rooms. It’s lunchtime, obvious by the carts of food being delivered into every room.
“Mr. Bishop won’t be eating any of this,” she says with a pitiful shrug of her shoulders. “He’s on a strict diet that will be brought up with his medication in about an hour.”
I nod, though I couldn’t honestly care less. I’m not planning to stay here that long. In and out is what I told myself when I contemplated coming here.
As the doors open, we’re met with the sound of hospital machines beeping in the distance.
“Frank sweetie,” she calls, “It’s Jackie. You have visitors,” she adds, announcing we’re here.
I’m not ready for what I see when I step into the room. Not sure what I was expecting to see other than a man clearly an inch from death, but Franklin Bishop is unrecognizable.
His head of brown hair is now completely bald. His tan skin, covered in a slight yellow tinge and covered in dark spots. But it’s his frail body and near clear eyes that stand out the most. He’s losing his vision if it isn’t already gone.
Frank doesn’t look surprised to see me. He isn’t happy about it either. “I’ll leave you to your visit. I’ll be back in an hour with your lunch and meds, Frank. Be nice to your visitors.”
My father lets out an aggravated huff, barely audible behind the sound of the oxygen machine connected through tubes in his nostrils. “Coming to gloat on my deathbed wasn’t enough. You had to bring him?” he asks, as he turns away from Jase, who enters behind me.
This won’t go the way I planned if Jase is around. My dad will suspect the Kings are involved, and won’t be as cooperative. “Jase, mind giving us a minute.”
I knew coming here with Jase was a bad idea, yet I hadn’t fought him on it. I think deep down I needed my best friend, a guy who, even though we’ve spent years without talking and hating one another, knew the ins and outs of my relationship and feelings toward my father. Jase knows despite the shit Franklin put me through as a kid and adolescent, there were some things I couldn't help but blame myself for.
If I’d been more like my brothers, then maybe my father wouldn’t have hated me as much?
Jase doesn't fight me on it, instead nods and pats me on the shoulder. “I’ll wait by the truck.”
Franklin laughs, his cough sounding far worse than I’ve ever heard it. When I called earlier this morning to let them know I’d be stopping by for a visit, the nurse mentioned things were getting far worse. Staring at my father’s frail and sickened body, it’s hard not to see death is inevitable at this point.
However, all I can think about is how the timeline for the completion of our renovations is closing in on us. In order to ensure we don’t run into trouble with the bank or any other of Franklin’s adversaries, we need to have the deed signed over.
It’s why I’m here and he knows it. “Your ties to that family are closer than you think you know?” he says between coughs. “I should have known you’d be back with them.”
I take a few steps into the room, though don’t get too close. “Trust me, old man. I haven’t forgotten what you said to me. You may have because you were piss drunk, but I don’t.” His mouth tightens in a firm line. “Jase and I share a brother.”
There’s not a shred of emotion that appears over his face as I remind him of the secret he confessed to me the night I left Crossroads. Franklin had overheard my conversation with Bismarck King and was well aware of his threats and the ultimatum he gave me that drove me out of town and kept me away. I think it was my dad’s own way of ensuring I keep good on my promise to never return to Crossroads.
How could I return and see my siblings every day, look them in the face and pretend like I didn't know a truth that would ruin everything they thought they knew? More than that, it would affect our relationship amongst siblings, ruin one of my brothers’ lives, my friendship with Jase, and worst of all, any chance at a relationship with Bailey. Again, I couldn’t live with being the reason for their misfortunes.
Though, that night, Franklin confessed the reason he hated Bismarck King and his entire family. The reason the King himself hated us and made sure everyone in town knew the kind of people we were and despised us for it. It was Franklin’s way of saying “I told you so” or “That’s what you get” for getting involved with that family.
“I loved her until that point, you know,” he says, his voice no more than a croak. “If I’m being honest, I may have loved her after as well. But I couldn’t forget her betrayal despite how much I wanted to. The bottom of a bottle of liquor can only make you forget so much.”
It’s at this moment, as my father stares at me with the same hatred filled eyes that look back at him, I realize the reason he’s always hated me so much is because I’m just like him. At least a reminder of the man he could have been if he hadn’t allowed his past to completely erase the man he once was.
“You found out one night you came home from some poker game, drunk off your ass, and trashed the house. The first night you hit her.” At least it was the first night my brothers and I witnessed him lay a hand on her. It wasn’t the last, but it was the moment I realized nothing would ever make me forgive him. It was the day I promised to hate him.
“Bismarck told me himself. Gloated after he’d nearly wiped me out in a game of poker down at the casino. Told me how he knew one of you was his. Hell, he even joked maybe you all were, but I knew…” he pauses, an unreadable expression on his face. “I thought it was you.”
Panic floods through me at the thought. When Franklin told me about my mother’s affair with Bismarck King and how she had a child with him, he’d made it seem like it was one of my brothers. He never outright told me who, but never once, did I suspect he could have possibly meant me.
No, there’s no fucking way the universe would be that fucking shitty.
He lets out a sharp chuckle that triggers a bout of hoarse coughing. “Relax, boy. It’s not. You can rest assure you didn’t fuck your sister.” His crass tone sickens me, and I can’t believe I nearly pitied the man for being so close to death. This proves he deserves it and so much more.
“Look, dad,” I say, but the word feels like acid on my tongue. Reaching into my back pocket, I unfold the piece of paper I brought with me and hand it to him. “I’m not here to reminisce on our most memorable moments as father and son. You made sure there weren’t many, at least none worth mentioning. I’m here for one reason only. It’s time to move on, old man.”
Sitting up slowly and with much effort, he takes the paper from me, his jaw growing stiff as he reads it. “I was far from perfect, but I never so much as looked at another woman. My mistake was taking your mother for granted. She was young. I thought I’d hit the lottery when she agreed to go out with me. Though after she did what she did, with him of all people, I lost my way and was too fucking proud to ask for help to find it back.”
My eyes burn, tears welling at the words he speaks that mean nothing because they change nothing, but maybe they’ll lead him to accept what I’m about to ask. “For once in your life, do something selfless for your family. You might hate us, but you owe us. So much more than this, but it will do. So long as we are completely free of you.”
Without another meaningless apology, he nods, reaching for the pen I hold out. “I never hated any of you. Especially not your little sister, but I also couldn’t be the man you all wanted me to be, the father you needed me to be. Trust me, you really were better off this way. You might not see it that way but, it’s the truth.”
I scoff, averting my gaze for a moment to conceal the flood of overwhelming emotions surely written on my face. When I turn back to face him, I’m once again in control and determined to get this done.
“Trust me, we know. And I may have allowed the past to nearly ruin my relationship with my siblings the way you did yours, but it’s not too late for me. I will work tirelessly for their forgiveness and fight to once again be a part of their family—of what it really means to be a Bishop. Not in your memory, but in ours. In who we were as children, who we are as adults. There’s something a lot stronger that binds us. Not the blood coursing through our veins, or the last name on our birth certificates.” I force myself to take a deep breath before I can continue. “It’s the love we have for one another that will allow us to repair what’s been broken.”
I watch as he signs his name on the line, sealing my family’s future. A future he originally destroyed. I don’t thank him, don’t apologize or say goodbye. With a simple nod, I take the paper from his decrepit hands and turn away, walking out the door without looking back.
Once out in the hall, I shoot a quick text to all three of my brothers, knowing Franklin Bishop’s time on earth is ending far sooner than we thought. My fingers grow numb as I type out the text, but there’s no other feeling, just a tightness in my chest I’m better off forcing myself to ignore.
Me: His time is coming. Make your peace if you need to. I just did.
“ W here is he?” Monroe shouts as she comes barreling into the kitchen. Her dark hair is strung up into a ponytail, and she’s dressed in some type of fancy athletic outfit—those expensive ones girls wear to run errands, but don’t really work out in. However, her wide eyes look tired.
Jase and I brought our food back to the ranch. I wasn't in the mood to be out and about around town after my visit with Franklin, or talk to Jase about it either. I made it clear he could tag along so long as he didn’t ask.
It helped that it was lunchtime, so we brought Monty’s crew some burgers and beers, giving them an extended break for their hard work.
“Monty’s out back by the barn. Jase is in the bathroom upstairs, installing some light fixtures.”
“I don’t give a fuck where Jase is,” she shouts, making me turn my head toward her. “I saw your text to Monty. Where is dad?” My stomach drops at her question. Why the fuck did she have Monty’s phone?
“I don’t…”
“Don’t treat me like I’m a fucking child, Nash. I was upstairs working on Monty's computer, and noticed he received a text from you in a group chat with our brothers. One I am not a part of.”
“You’ve been here the whole time? You should have said something. I would have taken you a burger.”
Monroe huffs out a long, exasperated sigh. “Stop deflecting, Nash. You forget we’re more alike than you think. I know the way your mind works.”
“Look, Izzy,” I say, trying to calm her and give myself enough time to come up with an excuse. Because right now, I have no fucking clue how I’m going to get out of this one.
“Don’t call me that. Not when you can’t even look me in the eye and tell me the truth.”
“Monroe, what’s wrong?” Monty asks as he enters the room, a worried look on his face as his gaze flicks between us. Of course, he’s going to once again think this is my fault.
My sister hasn’t outright said she’s forgiven me, but my presence no longer revolts her to the point she’s vomiting. I never once thought about how my relationship, or whatever there is between Bailey and me, would affect her. I’m sure pissing her off about this won’t help my case.
“She wants me to tell her where our father is.”
Monty’s face grows bright red, anger visible in the way his body tense and his jaw goes stiff. “No, no fucking way. I didn’t sacrifice everything to keep you away from him, for your own safety, for you to just go running back and ruin it all now. You’re better off never seeing him again, Monroe.”
“You can't make that decision for me, Monty. Not anymore. Because I respect you more than anyone, for not only the man you are but all the sacrifices you made to be there for me when I needed you most, I’ve stayed away, I haven’t asked about him, haven’t ever even wanted to see him again, but this? I deserve to make this decision on my own.”
Monty’s eyes blaze with a fierce intensity I’ve never seen before. The anger radiating from him is unlike anything I’m sure he’s felt since the day he came and took Monroe out of this very home.
His usual composed demeanor is gone as the air around us crackles with raw, unbridled tension. The three of us stand silent, fearing what comes next. Rage consumes him entirely, fueling a fire in him, threatening to engulf everything in its path.
Though my oldest, unflappable brother, inhales a sharp breath and lets it out, mentally counting to three. “I said no, and that’s final.”
“What’s going on here?” Jase says as he descends the stairs and enters the room.
Monroe’s eyes turn furiously in his direction and I’m almost sorry for the poor guy. “What’s going on is my father is dying and my brothers refuse to tell me where he is.”
“Look, Monroe, it's better this way. He doesn't look good. You don’t want your last memory of him to be that. Trust me, especially not given you're a little more sensitive.” Jase doesn't know Monroe, which is probably why he doesn't know it’s best to stay away from her when she’s like this, not taunt her like he’s just done.
Her blue eyes grow weary and ireful, an uncontrollable storm of emotions raging in their depths. “Stay the fuck out of it, Jameson. This doesn't concern you.” She turns her angry expression back on Monty and me. “How the fuck does he know?”
“Jase went with me,” I confess, agreeing with what he’s just said despite Monroe not liking it. “Trust us when we say you’re better off.”
“You don’t get to say that, Nash.” She lets out a humorless laugh, her eyes pleading with my brother and me. But neither one of us is going to change our mind on this.
My expression softens, and I want to say yes. To tell her I’d take her myself if I thought it would make her feel even a smidge better about the entire situation surrounding our father, but I’m telling the truth when I say she’s better off. “Sorry, Iz. It’s for the best, okay?”