Page 292 of Playing With Fire

I just wish he understood what it's costing me to keep protecting him from that possibility.

After dinner, I help Mom clear the table while Dad and Declan disappear into the living room.

Bishop offers to help, but Mom sends him away.

“You drove all afternoon, sweetheart. Go relax.”

He looks at me.

I give him a small smile. “Go. I've got it.”

He hesitates before following the others.

By the time the kitchen is clean, my feet are aching, and all I want is ten minutes of quiet.

I head upstairs to my childhood bedroom.

Darcy is stretched across the bed like he owns the place. Which, knowing him, he probably thinks he does. “Hey, handsome.”

He opens one eye.

“Don't look so excited to see me.” I scratch behind his ears, earning a reluctant purr. Then I reach for my overnight bag.

That's when I notice the photograph tucked into the corner of my old mirror. I'd forgotten it was there.

I pull it free.

North Pines University Winter Formal.

Five years ago.

I'm eighteen, wearing an ice-blue dress Mom helped me pick out. My hair is curled, and I'm smiling so hard my cheeks must have hurt.

Bishop stands beside me in a black tuxedo, his bow tie slightly crooked.

He's twenty-three in the picture.

Already playing professional hockey.

Already the boy every girl in Evergreen wanted.

And somehow, for one night, he was my date.

I trace my thumb along the edge of the photograph. I'd spent weeks looking forward to that dance. Then my original date backed out, and Dad asked Bishop if he'd take me.

He said yes.

Of course he did.

Bishop never could tell my father no.

I remember how nervous I was when he picked me up. How he told me I looked beautiful.

How he held my hand when we walked inside. And how, later that night, I overheard him telling another girl that I was like a sister to him.

Just a favor for Coach.

Nothing more.