Preacher stared at his son, seeing the spite, and he didn’t mind.

“Do you want to hit me?” he asked.

“What?”

“You heard me. Go ahead. This one time, I will allow you to throw a punch. I won’t retaliate. I’ll be good and sit nice and still. Go ahead. Hit me.” He knew it was what Bishop wanted, even needed.

“It’s a trick.”

“No, it’s not. I get that you’re angry, only, you’re taking the anger out on the wrong person. Robin needs you. Hit me. Come on, you little prick, fucking hit me.”

Bishop raised his fist as if to hit him, and Preacher was ready, more than ready to take whatever hit his son wanted to give him, only, he didn’t.

“You want me to,” Bishop said.

Preacher didn’t say a word.

“You hate what you’ve done, and I’ve got to wonder, Dad, if you hate that I’m the one that is married to Robin.” Bishop smirked. “No, you can deal with whatever guilt you want. You’re right, Robin needs me. Not you, me. You took her virginity, knocked her up, but it’ll be me she comes to for comfort.”

Bishop grabbed a pair of jeans and a shirt before leaving his room.

The moment he was gone, Preacher smiled. Reverse psychology was a wonderful thing. He’d allow Bishop to believe what he wanted. At the end of the day, he got his way, and Robin would have some company.

Now, he had to keep an eye on her and make sure nothing bad happened to her. He didn’t trust for Bishop to see an opportunity that would result in her losing the baby.

****

When he first entered his home, Bishop was struck by how quiet it was. He was rarely home late at night, but as he made his way upstairs, he saw Robin’s room had on some light.

Opening the door, he saw her sitting up in bed, reading. From the look of the book, it was a pregnancy book.

“Hey,” she said, sliding in a bookmark and putting it to one side. “You’re home.”

“Yeah, I’m home.”

She ran her hands down her thighs, and he watched her. He stepped into the room and was overcome with the scent of lemon. She smelled amazing, always had. He missed being close to her.

You’re the one constantly running away from her.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Don’t. Please, don’t be nice to me. I’m a horrible human being. I promised you I’d be there for your scan, and I wanted to be.”

“I know why you couldn’t make it. It’s fine, honestly.”

“It’s not fine. Nothing about this is ever going to be fine.” He ran his hand down his face, trying to clear the fog from his mind.

He stank of other women.