All Lights On Us

C8: Sober

Bishop POV

Klara has been through so much. My headache is still annoying me as I listen to her explain what she was feeling last night. The grass pricks my ass and my hand aches from being over worked on the football field. But none of it compares to the pain I feel in my heart when she tells me she's had to deal with depression. 

But here she sits. Shirt drenched in sweat, hair sticking to her head, and soft pants still coming from her chest. Looking at me with those caring eyes. 

"I love you," I can't stop the words from falling off my tongue. 

She just got done telling me how we haven't known each other for very long, and here I am confessing my love for her. And I refuse to take it back. More of her eyeballs show and she darts her gaze to the street. 

"Bishop," she defends.

"Klara," I tease right back. 

My heart clenches at the thought of her not feeling the same way. But I can't push her, and even more than that, I can't let her feel like it's not okay to love me yet. 

With that, I pat her thigh and stand up. I help her to stand as well. She flinches and I can't help but laugh at her.

"What time did you start?" I ask.

"Running? Around five-thirty, I think."

"Jesus Christ, are you trying to kill yourself?"

We go inside while she explains how she wants to deal with her problems rather than complaining and feeling sorry for herself all the time. For now, I just listen and ready the shower for her. 

She's already in the shower when she yells for me. I stick my head into the bathroom and gulp at the blurred image of her through the glass shower.

"Can you grab my bag from the jeep? I totally just remembered."

The door slides open and her wet head comes into view. 

"If I do that, can I join you for the rest of your shower?"

Her laugh makes my heart grow.

"If you make it back before I'm done, sure."

I race downstairs and into my jeep. I spot her bag right away and burst into the house, feeling giddy. That is, until my mother's nurse Pam Johnson hurries down the hall. 

"Bishop, the ambulance is already on their way. Ana had a stroke, I've stabilized her, but she'll need to go to the hospital until she's out of the woods."

Out of the woods. She means, until they know she won't die in the next twenty-four hours. Pain erupts in my chest and I hear the sirens in the distance. 

"I'll meet you there."

I take the stairs two at a time. Klara must hear me, because she calls out in sing-song just as I walk into my room.

"You're too late," she giggles.

She sits on the bed in the white towel I left out for her, and her teasing expression turns into concern when she looks at me. 

"Get dressed. We need to meet my mother at the hospital, she had a stroke." 

I place the bag on the bed and, thank God, Klara ruffles through it fast and starts yanking on clothes. She throws on a black t-shirt and jeans and nods that she's ready. She snatches her brush on the way out and we're hopping into the jeep just as the paramedics are placing my mother in the ambulance. 

I follow the ambulance, rather than racing to the hospital like I really want to. They're fast, but safe. I want to fast and reckless. 

Klara is staring straight ahead and I can feel her nerves. My fists clench on the steering wheel. I knew this day would come, but I didn't expect to have to keep my shit together for someone else. I always though I would just break and go on a bender. But I can't. Not now. Not with Klara in my life.