the one to laugh. “Now you want to? You want to help me? Really? After everything you’ve done, you think I want your help? Do you think I want anything from you?”
“Robin, please,” Bishop said.
“The only reason you could possibly want my help right now is because a whole bunch of people want to kill you. Like always, you’re only thinking about yourself. You’re all you ever care about. I feel sorry for the woman who thinks she can make you a better man because it isn’t ever going to happen. I don’t want you dead. I don’t want to live with that on my conscience … I can’t think right now, and I don’t want you near me. You’re the last person I ever want. Every single time I’ve needed a best friend, all you’ve ever done is screw me over. I’ve come to see, Bishop, screwing me over is what you do best. It’s what you always do, and you enjoy it.”
“Robin…”
“I don’t want you here.” She looked at Preacher. “I know it’s your house, but…”
“Get out,” Preacher said. “You’re free to leave. My men won’t kill you. But Bishop, if you leave town, there’s no guarantee.”
Bishop didn’t move and she stared at him. Preacher watched them. There was an unspoken message between them. One he didn’t know.
They’d been friends forever. There was nothing he could do to take it away.
“I’m not going to change my mind. You can’t give me puppy dog eyes anymore. We’re done here, Bishop. I’m not even going to extend friendship to you. Not anymore.”
Bishop nodded his head, turned on his heel, and left. He slammed the door behind him and Robin laughed. “He’s always the one to be dramatic.”
She looked at Preacher. “We need to talk.”
“Forgive me, baby, but I’m not allowing you to be alone with him.” Reaper just had to impart his thoughts, even if they weren’t required.
In his mind, Preacher thought about taking out a gun and shooting him in the head.
“Reaper, I’ve been alone with him for nearly a year. I need to talk to him and I don’t care if you like it. After everything, it’s the least you could do and I’m not asking for permission. Neither of you ever do that, do you? Ask for permission from anyone. You just do whatever the hell you want. Well, I’m going to start taking advice from both of you. It doesn’t seem to be doing either you any trouble.” She walked out the back door, heading onto his porch, leaving him alone with Reaper.
Reaper grabbed his arm. “This doesn’t mean anything.”
Preacher slammed his head against the kitchen counter. “No, it doesn’t, but if you ever touch me again, I will fuck you up, Robin or not. You’re breathing because she wants you to. The moment you cross any line and you lose that tiny thread of connection with her, your ass is as good as dead.”
He left his kitchen. The desire to slam his own kitchen door was strong, but he decided against it. Instead, he closed it silently and found Robin sitting in the cold, looking out into the night. He could and would always be the bigger man.
The last few hours had been … fucked up. There was no other way to describe it. No way he could think to describe what had happened.
Robin had gotten her memory back. This, for Preacher, had been great. She remembered them, their time together, what drew them closer. Then the meet-up with Bishop, followed by the harsh reality of her truth. It must have been hard for her. She hadn’t fallen apart, but he knew anything could happen to spiral her down a pit of despair.
Before Reaper had shown up with Bethany, Robin had told him everything. Bethany’s birth, her feelings for Reaper, even her acceptance of staying with the prick. All of it had come spilling out.
He couldn’t hate her though. Not after what she’d gone through. Sure, he’d hated hearing her share her feelings. How she’d finally given up hope and just tried to make the best of a bad situation. The last thing he ever wanted her to feel or do was to have to make do. She was better than that, but he hadn’t been in her situation. He didn’t know what she went to or why she finally decided to give up.
“Do you want to hurt me?” Robin asked.
He heard the sob within her voice and he took the seat beside her, pulling