Broken Bells • Bishop Losa

Chapter 13: "I think he hates me."

Bishop rolled with a groan, the bright early sun peeked through the curtains enveloping the bed with warmth. The smell of bacon hung in the air causing Bishop to reluctantly lift his head from the plush pillow to glance at the alarm clock- 8:00 am. He swung his legs off the edge of the bed, stretching his arms over his head to ease the ache he felt in his tired bones. He was unaware of Annabelle leaning in the doorway, coffee mug in one hand and spatula in the other, a content smile on her face as the man stood from her bed.

"I still cannot believe you wore jeans to bed." She teased watching as he pulled the denim further up his hips, "You could have slept in your boxer shorts or even naked- that would have been less of a sin than wearing jeans."

Bishop raised an eyebrow teasingly as he stepped toward her, keeping his pace slow as he watched her eyes drift over his muscular arms exposed by his tank top. " Something tells me that if I tried to sleep naked, we wouldn't have gotten much sleeping done."

"Valid point." Annabelle melted into Bishop as he rested his warm hands on her hips. She stood on her toes to place a gentle kiss on his lips before trading her hips with the coffee mug. "I heard you talking to Hank on the phone last night about needing to ride up to Oakland so I made you some breakfast before you have to hit the road."

"I'll be gone a few days, you think you can manage without me?"

Annabelle scoffed as she dished some of the bacon and eggs onto a plate for the biker, "Just because you've been sleeping in my bed every night for weeks now does not mean I won't be able to spend a few nights on my own."

"I know what it's like to go from feeling perfectly fine with being alone to not needing to be alone- it makes the silence harder."

"Is that why you spend all your nights here?" She questioned, her tone coming out softer than she had intended it to. Bishop looked reluctant to respond, wanting to say yes but his brain telling him that maybe telling her the truth would make her feel like he was more into the relationship than she was, seeing as he had already gifted her a damn car. "Is Marcus still President in Oakland?" Annabelle quickly changed the subject from their heavy topic of loneliness, trying to lighten the mood before he made his departure. "That guy is like the Gandalf of Mayans, right? I met him a few times back in the day, I don't think he likes me very much."

Bishop laughed at her comparison as he nearly choked on the strip of bacon he had been eating, "Marcus is my primo. His family took me in when my parents bailed."

"He was your start in the Mayans?"

"When I got back from my last tour, I agreed to come to Santo Padre, I built this charter from the ground up," Bishop spoke proudly, his pride bringing a smile on Annabelle's face as she began to dig into her breakfast as well.

Anyone that rides a motorcycle will tell you that the best part is the freedom of the open road. Bishop enjoyed the warmth of the sun on his skin with the cooling wind slicing through the stale desert air as he led his charter down the empty stretch of road. They picked up speed on the straighter stretches of the highway as they had left Santo Padre behind schedule- a few of the men arriving late that morning, including himself.

As always the streets of Santo Padre were nearly silent at the late hour, a police siren cutting through the air as it sped down the street. Annabelle briefly glanced over her shoulder at the flashing lights as she pulled the diner door shut tight to trigger the locking mechanism, she kept her keys wedged between her fingers as she walked around the building to the small parking lot. This would be the first time since she had started working again that Bishop was not there waiting at the curb, giving her a reassuring smile as he watched her walk to her car before escorting her home- her body was on edge and she could not help how many times she had glanced over her shoulder during the short walk to her car. She sighed as she sat in the driver's seat, taking a quick peek into the back seat to ensure it was empty before she started the engine, eager to slip on her pyjamas and relax on the couch until she found herself tired enough to sleep; this had quickly become her routine as she found herself slipping into dark thoughts if she lay awake in bed too long, on nights she was lucky Obispo would be awake enough to join her relaxation session on the couch before they went off to bed while other nights his exhaustion meant he was in bed far earlier than she would be.