I also don’t want Joey to be right that I’m using Bishop for more than just an opportunity to rehab an NHL player. I would prefer not to turn him into a rebound.

I’m a bit of an emotional mess, if I really think about it. I don’t want to drag Bishop into that, but I’ve already started to get attached to, and depend on, him. I don’t say any of those things, though. I might be an emotional mess, but I’m not stupid.

“I haven’t been back here since the night I arrived.”

“You mean since—”

“I caught Joey screwing someone else.”

“On your birthday.”

“On my birthday.” Shit. I think I might cry. It’s dumb. It’s been weeks since it happened, but coming here makes it all feel fresh again.

“What’s the apartment number? I’ll get your suitcase for you.”

I finally let go of the steering wheel and look at him. “You can’t do that. It’s a heavy bag; you’ll set yourself back.”

“I’ll be fine, and you’ll stretch me out when we get home.”

I rub my temples. “I still have to organize the decorations with him.”

“We’ll take care of it when we get home too.”

“But Joey signed us up to work on this thing together.” Avoiding him entirely isn’t a great strategy, and it definitely isn’t one I can continue to employ forever. But in this case maybe it’s better to have Bishop deal with Joey until I’m truly ready to do it on my own.

“And Joey is a dickhead who doesn’t deserve to spend five seconds in your presence. Don’t worry. We’ll get it all sorted out. Nolan works at one of those party warehouses, so he’ll have loads of hookups for us.”

“That’s an odd place to work.”

“The hours are flexible, and he’s a part-time manager. We might as well take advantage, since he has the connections.”

I scrub a hand over my face. “Joey thinks you and I are together.”

“Good. Let him think that. Isn’t that actually better for you anyway? Won’t it get him off your ass?”

“He called you my rebound.” Goddamn it. Why can’t I keep my stupid mouth shut?

Bishop shifts as much as he can so he’s turned toward me. His knees hit the center console, and his thumb keeps sweeping back and forth on that sensitive spot behind my ear. “Does that bother you?”

“Does it bother you?” I fire back, because answering that question is complicated, and the truth makes me feel way too vulnerable.

“Coming from your dickbag ex? Not in the least. That guy is going to say anything he can to get under your skin and into your head.” He gives the back of my neck a squeeze. “Let him believe whatever he wants. What’s the apartment number?”

“One-two-one-three.”

“I’ll be back.”

He unbuckles his seat belt and gets out of the car. The back door opens, and he nabs a single crutch. Before he hobbles off, he taps on the window, so I roll it down.

“Just to be clear, you don’t want me to beat the fuck out of this guy?”

“No. You have a groin injury, and that is the opposite of helpful for healing.”

“Is that the only reason you don’t want me to beat his ass?”

“Mostly, yes. Plus I still have to work with him.”

Bishop purses his lips but nods. “Okay. Noted.”

I watch him enter the building, trying to understand what the hell is going on between us. I’m so confused. It seems to take an actual eon for him to finally return. I get out of the car so I can help him with my suitcase. Surprisingly, it’s still in one piece. I just hope all my things are still in it.

“Is he still alive?” I hoist the suitcase in the trunk.

“He’s fine. I mean, his ego might not be in the best shape, but if he’s been causing you problems, I don’t think he will anymore.”

“What did you say to him?”

“That he’s a stupid asshole and he doesn’t deserve you and he’s lucky he ever had you at all. I also told him I’d be helping you take care of whatever this party shit is, because you shouldn’t have to deal with him.” He closes the trunk. “Oh, and I told him he needs to stop texting you all the time. If you want to talk to him, you’ll be the one to reach out. I also said that was really un-fucking-likely, since I plan to monopolize all of your spare time.”

I tip my head back so I can look up at Bishop. God, he’s beautiful. Ruggedly stunning. And he showed up at my work today out of the blue. And told off my ex-boyfriend. I’m going to be super lucky if I don’t start bawling. “Thank you for doing that for me.”

“I did it as much for me as I did it for you. I’m hungry as fuck, are you? Confrontation always makes me want to eat.”

And just like that, the urge to cry disappears. I snort a very unbecoming laugh. “Something greasy and definitely not on your preseason diet?”

A grin tips up the corner of his mouth. “It’s like you can read my mind. But we’re not going for pizza, because I can’t deal with the olives-and-pineapple shit.”

He tosses his crutch into the back seat and heads for the driver’s side.

“Hey, what’re you doing?”