Page 144 of Twisted Needs

“Well obviously you’re fucking someone and you want me to know who he is.”

The words shock me so hard my head snaps toward him before I can stop myself. Too fast.

Bishop’s grin disappears instantly. “Oh my God,” he breathes. “It’s someone I know.”

I glance down the aisle automatically. Half the guys are asleep. Livingston’s watching a film with his headphones on. Vandy’s sprawled across the other two seats with his hoodie over his face. Nobody’s paying attention to us. Still, my pulse spikes anyway.

Bishop lowers his voice. “Who?”

I stare at the condensation running down my orange juice cup. My throat feels dry. “Anderson.”

For a second, Bishop just looks at me. Then his expression hardens. “Are you being serious?”

I nod once. “Yeah.”

“Park.” He exhales through his nose and drags a hand over his beard. “The kid is in college.”

“I know.” The words come out sharper than I meant them to, but there isn’t a single thought he can throw at me that I haven’t already used to torture myself at three in the morning.

Bishop studies me carefully now. Really studies me. “And this is something that’s…” He pauses, searching for the word. “Serious?”

My chest tightens. It should feel humiliating admitting it out loud, but instead it feels terrifyingly easy. “I love him.” No taking it back now.

Bishop leans back slowly like I physically shoved him. “Jesus Christ.”

I cover my mouth with my hand and stare down at the tray table. My face feels hot. “Yeah.”

“Look, man…” Bishop lowers his voice even further. “You and I both know we like to have our fun. Nobody’s judging you for that. But being in an actual relationship with someone that young…” He shakes his head a little. “I mean, fuck. My oldest is about to turn seventeen. You and him have the same age gap as me and my son, almost just about.”

That one lands exactly where it’s supposed to. A dull discomfort settles in my stomach, because I’ve already sat awake beside Anders while he slept and thought the exact same thing. Part of me wants to tell him he’s being hypocritical. I’ve seen the girls Bish takes home from clubs. Girls barely older than Anders. Hell, probably younger sometimes.

But that’s exactly the difference, isn’t it? Those girls never mattered. And Anders matters too much.

“I know it’s…taboo,” I admit quietly. “Trust me. I’ve spent enough nights thinking about it.”

Bishop stays quiet. That almost makes it worse.

I lean back in my seat and close my eyes for a second, exhausted all the way down to my bones. “But I’m in love with him, Bish. Like genuinely.” I laugh once under my breath, humorless. “He’s the only person who’s ever made me look at myself and wonder why the hell I’m not a better man.”

More silence. He blinks at me, finishing off the rest of his drink way too quickly.

“I need him,” I admit softer this time. The words scrape on the way out. “And he needs me.”

Bishop’s face shifts a little at that. Less judgment. More concern. “Does de Sousa know?”

My stomach drops instantly. The worst question he could possibly ask. I look away toward the window again. Nothing but darkness outside. “Not yet.”

Bishop mutters something under his breath that sounds vaguely like Jesus fucking Christ.

“He just told his friends,” I continue. “And I guess I’m telling you.”

Bishop sits there for a long moment rubbing his thumb against his jaw. Finally, he sighs. “I’m glad you’re happy, man. I really am.” He looks over at me carefully. “But there’s a reason relationships like yours usually don’t work.” The words sting even though they’re gentle. “You’re gonna hold him back.”

I swallow hard. Because that’s the fear. The idea that one day Anders wakes up at thirty and realizes he spent his twenties tied to an aging hockey player with too much baggage and a bad lower back.

“That’s the thing,” I murmur. “Everything you’re thinking right now? I’ve already thought it.” I rub my palm over my chest like it might settle the pressure building there. “It’s not like this has been easy.”

Bishop doesn’t interrupt.