Chapter 11 Bishop
BISHOP
The constant pull of my shoulder blades forced my arms into a tightness I’d not experienced in a long time.
I rolled my neck from side to side, then pulled my shoulder to my ear and forced it down.
The routine stretch helped with the physical ache of tension but not the emotional one roaring through my blood so fast, my heart hammered my ribs.
Rafe paced in front of the windows, hands on his hips and a permanent scowl on his face.
Noelle laughed, the sound so bright and bubbly that it snapped my head around.
She stood in the kitchen with Colt, Rafe’s younger brother.
The two of them worked together with a familiarity that made me want to tear into the space between them and demand Colt back the hell away from our woman.
I didn’t.
Couldn’t.
Colt rolled his eyes at something Noelle said and shook his head. “No. Not like that.”
He made twisting motions with his hands, then launched into a detailed description of how he cut the vegetables for the soup.
Noelle picked up a knife from the butcher block counter and held it out to him.
“You’re going to have to show me. I don’t understand.”
My fingers twitched and curled into fists.
The heat of my next breath rivaled what pumped out of the fireplace.
I dragged my favorite overstuffed chair close to the flames and dropped into the cushy seat.
“Hey, Rafe, you want us to go all out?” Colt shouted.
Rafe pivoted on his heel. “Yeah. I sent a few guys to put the word out. I’d rather have too much than not enough. Use everything.”
Colt’s eyes widened, and he diced faster than ever. “Never heard him say that before.”
I turned away from them and concentrated on the flames dancing in the grate.
My arm burned, then ached, and I rubbed at the scars while my mind took a nosedive into my past.
An ember popped and shot from the fireplace, where it danced in front of my eyes an instant before burning out.
My chest locked.
Fuck.
I had to get over this before people started showing up for the hot meal Rafe had promised.
The assholes who’d confronted us earlier might hate us, but they didn’t have a bat’s chance in hell of keeping people from accepting the food we offered.
A shadow flickered across the wall beside the fireplace.
I stiffened and sucked in a sharp breath despite the pain in my chest.
Distraction. Now.
I dug into my pockets and retrieved the small whittling knife and the block of wood I’d been working on.
With a quick glance over my shoulder, I fished the magnification glasses out of my vest and propped them on the arm of the chair.
I didn’t need them yet, but I would once I reached the part of the carving where I worked on intricate details.
Rafe gave me a side-eye glance when he paced past me but didn’t comment.
He knew the demons that hounded my brain.
I clicked open the knife and used the sharp point to drill a hole into the spot where I planned on threading string through the top.
My mind had no choice but to focus as I carved.
One wrong move and I’d ruin the whole thing.
With Christmas just around the corner, there was no time to waste.
I propped my thumb along the bottom of the block of wood that would eventually be a tiny train and scraped the sharp edge of the knife along the edge.
The scratch, scratch of metal on wood calmed me.
Something about being in control and knowing the outcome of my efforts kept the demons at bay.
“What’s that?” Noelle stood beside me, her voice soft as a lullaby.
She bent at the waist, scooping her hair to the far side of her neck to gain a better view.
Her eyes glittered in the firelight that painted her skin a dusky hue.
I clasped the block of wood tight in my fist. “Nothing yet.” It took effort to force my fingers open and hold up the half-worked train.
Noelle reached out, then stopped, her fingers inches from mine. “May I?”
I made a motion with my head that indicated I didn’t mind, and she plucked the wood from my palm. “It’s going to be a train.”
“I can tell.” She ran her thumb along the edge where I’d been shaping a wheel. “This is incredible, Bishop.”
She sounded shocked and awed.
I shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”
“How long have you been whittling toys?” She perched on the arm of the chair and drew her knee up to rest alongside my arm.
Pocketing my glasses before she noticed them on the chair’s other arm, I shrugged. “Years. The kids are always excited to get presents, and it keeps my hands busy.”
A comfortable silence settled between us as she continued to examine the train. “You must really love making things. I noticed you’re very conscientious. Maybe even a perfectionist.”
My neck prickled with heat. “Something like that. I wasn’t always that way.” I took the train from her and continued shaving off tiny curls of wood. “How’s the soup?”
“Should be ready soon. It just needs to simmer for a while.”
She clasped her shin and stared into the fire. “The more I learn about all of you, the more certain I am that I’ll never know everything.”
“What do you want to know?”
Another shaving fell from the block.
It drifted toward the ground and settled on the toe of my boot.
“I don’t know. Everything?” She shrugged helplessly when I stared up at her. “Why did you start hand-carving toys?”
“They help when I get stuck.” I turned the train around and dropped my eyes to my work.
“When I was in the military, we spent a lot of time waiting. Nothing to do. I hated it. One of my commanders noticed and showed me how to whittle. When I came back, I couldn’t stop.
When Rafe started the annual toy drive, I donated everything I’d carved.
Once I saw the kids’ reactions, I couldn’t stop. ”
“How do you get stuck?” The back of her fingers brushed my burned arm when she shifted her hands for a better hold on her leg.
She could have brought a chair over, but she’d chosen to sit on the arm of mine.
The muscles in my forearm flexed when I shifted position, setting my arms on my thighs and leaning forward. “My past is not pretty, Noelle. I’ve fought to keep my PTSD at bay since I came home. When my thoughts spiral, carving helps keep me in tune with my present.”
“It doesn’t remind you of your time there?” The soft way she asked it was the only reason I found the ability to answer.
“I carved when it was safe. When it was quiet. That’s the feeling I’m searching for now.” I rubbed my burned arm.
The pucker of scorched flesh had healed without any major damage.
Noelle followed my movement and placed her hand over my forearm, right at the beginning of my scars. “Did this happen over there?”
I nodded.
Why did I want to tell her about it?
I rarely mentioned my time as a soldier.
It usually ended with a thread of panic rising to smother me.
But with Noelle, I found strength in her questions. “We were on our way back to base.” My voice rasped with the sudden dryness in my throat. I cleared it and caught a surprised look from Rafe when I turned my head toward the windows.
Noelle waited for me to continue, not pressing for details or asking demanding questions.
I turned the train around and around in my hand, my mind drifting back to that place.
A phantom explosion rebounded in my mind.
I felt myself flying, soaring through the air as our jeep went airborne. “The explosion threw me from the vehicle. But not my friends. My brothers-in-arms were trapped inside. Fire everywhere.”
The heat of it wrapped around me, the acrid burn of gasoline and scorched flesh forcing bile into the back of my throat.
Noelle rubbed her knuckles up and down my arm, the touch both a surprise and a comfort.
“The entire car was engulfed in flames. I couldn’t open the door, so I tried to drag them out through one of the windows. Thankfully, the jeep was upside down, but I didn’t have any leverage.”
I mimed a pulling motion. “I got them out.” I rotated my arm, letting the firelight highlight the burns. “They all suffered more than I did.”
“I’m so sorry, Bishop.” Noelle leaned forward and kissed my arm. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. You’re a hero. You did what few people would. You put yourself at risk to save your friends.”
“They would have done the same for me.” We’d had each other’s backs throughout my entire military career. I still talked to them from time to time.
“I’ve never met anyone who was that selfless.” Noelle sighed and leaned into the curve of the chair. The move put us shoulder to shoulder when I leaned back. “Thank you for sharing your story with me.”
It was a stark reminder of why she was here. “I told that story for Noelle the woman, not Noelle the reporter.”
“I know. I won’t tell a soul.” She dragged a finger over her heart in an X.
I waited for the pity and the fear to take over her expression.
When I looked at her, I saw neither.
She leaned forward and brushed a kiss across my brow.
“What was that for?” I wasn’t complaining, just curious.
Her lips twitched. “That was for being the bravest man I know. For serving your country and sacrificing so much in the line of duty.”
The brush of her fingers over my buzzed scalp sent so many emotions through my body, I didn’t have a prayer of identifying them.
There were no words capable of expressing my thoughts, nothing I could say that covered the way she made me feel with her admiration.
I clasped her hand, giving her fingers a squeeze.
She did the same, her eyes growing damp. “You keep surprising me, Bishop. You all do.” She gave a trembling sigh. “I don’t understand what happened tonight or why Rafe allowed those people to think you cut the town’s power. But hearing your story proves that I’ve been right all along.”
“What do you mean?” I leaned toward her.
“Soup’s ready.” Colt clapped as he barged from the kitchen to the living area. “Good thing we have that industrial gas stove.”
Noelle made no move to stand.
She met my eyes and squeezed my fingers again. “You’re a good man, Bishop.”
I was a mess, but I appreciated her words.
People didn’t say things like that to me.
I never thought I needed them to, but things were different with Noelle.
I cared what she thought about me.
Standing, I helped her to her feet. “Don’t let anyone else hear you say that. I have a reputation to protect.”
She mimed zipping her lips. “Your secret is safe with me.”
It had better be.
I could only imagine what Rafe would do if Noelle blew our cover.