Page 23 of Stolen Salvation

Hurricane shook his head. “Not someone, something. My career.”

He looked at him with sympathy in his eyes and it almost dragged Bishop under. “Want to talk about it?”

“Fuck no.”

“Wanna see if Val left any food?”

Hurricane bent forward and rubbed the end of his cigar against the ground to put it out before standing and making sure no embers were left. “Hell, yes.”

The two men made their way back inside to the kitchen but were disappointed to see no food was left.

“Guess I’ll head to my place and see if I can raid my own fridge.”

Bishop wanted to check on Charlie first though, so said goodnight to Hurricane and headed toward her apartment door. Stopping, he paused and wondered if he should just leave but as he was about to leave the door swung open behind him.

“Noah.”

“I wanted to check on you. See if you were okay.”

Charlie pulled the door shut behind her as she stepped out, putting her body closer to his. Her scent tickled his nose, and he fought the urge to inhale like a creeper.

“I was actually coming to find you to thank you for earlier. Today was harder than I expected it to be, and you were great.”

Bishop shoved his hands in his pockets. “No problem.”

He couldn’t help thinking that although it had been hard earlier, it had also felt natural. Supporting her, holding her, kissing her, touching her, as opposed to this awkward peace treaty.

“You want me to rustle up some spag bol?” He didn’t know where the invite came from and he knew it was a mistake. But when she flashed him a smile, the dimple in her left cheek showing, he felt a hundred feet tall and knew he couldn’t take it back even if he really wanted to. That was what Charlie did for him, she made him feel like someone worth loving until she hadn’t.

Walking side by side they headed toward his apartment, and he let them in, throwing his jacket on the couch as he passed.

Taking out the beef mince he began to assemble everything he’d need, laying the vegetables on the counter.

“Need some help?”

“Sure, you chop, I’ll wash.”

They worked together, him washing the veg as she chopped and added it to the pan as if no time had passed at all. The silence between them wasn’t easy like before but it wasn’t filled with hatred either. Sometime between the pub and now, his feelings had eased.

“Would you like a drink? I have red or white wine or beer.”

“Red would be good, but only a small one.”

Bishop poured the wine and got himself a beer as she washed her hands and headed to the other side of the counter to watch him cook like she’d done a hundred times in their marriage.

“So, apart from getting fired, what else have you been up to?”

Charlie looked up from where she’d been rolling her finger around the rim of her glass. “Not a lot. Work, work, and more work. I went to see my dad after Andrea left but he was busy.”

“Asshole,” Bishop said into the rim of his bottle, his disdain for the man who’d abandoned his child no secret to Charlie.

“Yeah, you never liked him.”

“Because he treated you like shit.”

“You can’t choose your family, Noah.”

“Bullshit. You can.” Bishop sighed as he dropped the bottle to the counter and turned to stir the pasta.