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CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Ella was nervous when she saw Bishop’s truck idling, waiting for her. But the nerves were for naught. He asked her one question: “Do you want to talk about it?” Then he easily accepted her succinct answer of “no.”
Angie’s words about strength stayed with Ella, and she appreciated that Bishop let her be alone with her own thoughts.
The drive took a long time, and she used that time to drift in and out of self-pity and question if she was wrong.
Bishop slowed down and turned off of the two-lane road onto a tire-track-cut driveway.
“We’re here?” she asked.
They rumbled over the uneven pathway. “Home of Bishop and Brick.”
This was exactly the kind of place she thought he would like. Trees made a canopy on both sides of the driveway. They wrapped around the corner and opened up to green space with a house sitting on top of a hill. A large dog tore out of the house.
“That’s Brick, right?”
“That is.”
“Did he come from inside?” Bishop had a doggie door? She wouldn’t think that was very secure. It seemed to her that he would’ve had a tougher security system.
“He has the run of the place.”
“What about an alarm? Doesn’t he set that off?”
“Like a security system?”
“Exactly.”
Bishop laughed. “Brickisthe security system.”
Oh… It took them another minute to roll up the driveway and a few moments to unload and for her to meet Brick. He gave her a lot of love, but she could tell he was every bit the security system that Bishop had called him.
They walked into his house. The last time she’d actually been in a place that Bishop called home was when they were in college. This place looked like him. It was comfortable and practical, with homage paid to his dog and his time spent in the army. It was bigger than she thought it would’ve been and had more green space. And it was very clean, even though he joked about her place being cleaner than his. Maybe a little sparse, but nothing unexpected. This house was real grown-up Bishop.
“I’m going to go check something upstairs and be back in a minute. You need anything? Shower? TV? Bourbon…?”
“No, I’m going to nurse my water and nose around.”
“Good. Snoop all you want. I thought you’d say something like you needed to talk to Tara—”
“Well, that too.”
He shook his head. “Sometimes, I think you’re a masochist.” Then he walked down the hall.
Ella took a sip of her water and put it on the counter. She’d carried that cup of water all the way from the FBI headquarters, focusing on it instead of her phone. Now it was time.
She pulled out her phone and saw that Tara had texted.
TARA: Huge response online today. It leaked that you were in an accident. So always an upside.
Ella threw her phone into her purse only to dig it out and slam it back in. Not responding to Tara would adequately convey how she wanted to wring her publicist’s neck. But she couldn’t because she was too busy wiping away tears. Frustrated ones. Angry ones. There wasn’t an upside to this! She was overwhelmed and didn’t know what to do.
She drank the remaining water and went to throw the cup away. Ella opened the cabinet and froze. She expected some ugly black industrial trash can, but what met her gaze were two receptacles, including one labeled RECYCLING.
She blinked, dumbfounded, as the cup she’d held onto since she left the FBI field office crushed in her hand. Almost in a state of shock, she slid the recycling bin forward and faltered at the contents. Crushed cans. Bishop had crushed all his cans. She couldn’t look away. It was so stupid, so simple. The guy gave no craps about landfills, not two shits about the size of the cans if he were going to recycle. But there it was, staring back at her.
The paper cup fell from her hand and landed in the pile of cans. She couldn’t help herself. She grabbed her phone and took a picture. Some people had keepsakes from first dates. This was… well, he wasn’t exactly involved in this moment, but it showed he cared. Right? Her heart sang. Because, yeah, it did. And after the day she’d had, this was what she needed.