Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 115525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
“Again. Why are you here?” Bishop’s voice was stern.
“Gosh, you sound so much like your dad.” She gave him a watery smile. “You seem like a good man, Bishop.”
“I am. Because I was raised by him.” Bishop pointed at Mike before he folded his big arms over his chest, and Mike felt a surge of pride blossom in his chest. “And I’m still busting my ass every day to be half the man he is.”
Shit. Mike had to glance away before he embarrassed himself by letting his emotions show. Rayne touched Mike’s cheek in reassurance, and one glance in those light eyes eliminated the last bitter traces of dread Mike felt as peace settled into his spirit.
“You still haven’t answered my question,” Bishop pressed. “Why are you here? I’m about to turn thirty-three. Did you come to take me for cake and ice cream?”
That’s my boy. Give her hell, B.
Ivy’s boss-bitch façade was deteriorating in the company she was in as she wrung her hands together. Her gaze darted around to the men watching her and hanging on her every word. It was no fun standing amongst critics, people who knew your fuckups and were ready to be judge and executioner of them. Mike got it. He’d been there enough times himself. But he had zero empathy for the woman who’d turned his life upside down.
“I, um. I came back to the old neighborhood to show my husband where I was born and raised and how far I’ve come. The conditions I had to survive in.” Ivy gestured at the nice suburban subdivision. “I wanted this kind of life for you, but I knew I was in no position to provide it.”
“So you thought a fifteen-year-old would do better?” Trent jumped in.
Mike didn’t realize how close he and Wood were standing beside him.
Ivy frowned. “No. I just knew that…” She pfft’d, sounding frustrated. “Who are you, and why are you questioning me?”
“I’m Trent. Mike’s other son… Bishop’s brother. His very defensive brother.”
Ivy gaped at Mike. “You had another kid?”
“I already said that’s none of your fuckin’ business. You don’t need to know my story or my boys’ either. Especially not thirty damn years later.” Mike took a deep breath like Rayne whispered for him to do in his ear, but it wasn’t helping.
“I’m not here for your forgiveness, Michael.”
Trent scoffed. “You should be.”
Wood placed his large hand on the back of Trent’s neck. “Let her speak her piece. Bishop might need this.”
Bishop glanced at Mike and then Ivy before he sighed. “I’m pretty sure I don’t. If you came to give me a bunch of reasons why you left me in the hospital and never looked for me again, I’m really not interested. I don’t need to know. All I do know is that I have one parent, a father. And I know he’ll never leave me no matter what. And that’s good enough for me.”
“No, wait,” Ivy pleaded when Bishop went to turn around. “When I went to Mama’s place, just for nostalgia’s sake, she told me that you and Mike were happy and doing so well. And I wasn’t going to bother you—I was gonna leave you alone just like Mama told me to. But then I heard through the grapevine that you’re…” More tears fell, faster than she could wipe them away. “I heard you’re getting married and that you have a successful business and everything.”
“That’s right,” Bishop answered dryly.
“I guess we’ve both done pretty good for ourselves, then, despite our circumstances.” Ivy reached into her small purse and pulled out a business card and extended it to Bishop. “Now, I can help mothers that were in similar situations as I was. Lost and scared, and about to make a horrible, life-altering, decision. I’m just trying to pay it forward.”
His son took it and glanced at the card, a confused scowl marring his forehead before he handed it over his shoulder to Edison.
“It says, Ivy St. James, MSW, child and family master social worker, community and social services manager at Fulton County Human Services.” Edison gave Bishop back the card, and he returned it to Ivy.
She reluctantly took it, gazing up at Bishop. “What’s wrong? Why—”
“I can’t read it anyway,” Bishop said bluntly.
“What?” Ivy choked. “What do you mean you can’t read it? Why not?” She turned toward Mike, her mouth in a dangerous slash. “Why the hell not?”
“No, wait.” Edison was shaking his head as if this was all a big misunderstanding. “He could’ve sounded out all of those words, but it was printed in some kind of fancy, cursive font.”
“So what? You learn to read cursive in third grade,” she exclaimed, one hand on her hip, her fury now directed toward Mike. Her tone sounded full of disgust as she mocked, “‘Sound it out.’ What did you do, Michael? What’s wrong with him?”