He got to the end of the dark hall and raised the bat over his right shoulder, ready to swing, when Bishop’s scowling face rounded the corner, scaring the Jesus out of him.
“Don’t!” Bishop yelled, throwing his forearm up to block his head, but it would’ve been too late if Wood hadn’t thought fast.
Wood brought the bat down and slumped against the wall, clutching the center of his chest. “Dammit, Bishop. You trying to get yourself killed?”
“It’s just me.” He frowned. “Who’d you think it was this time of morning?”
“I don’t know. Anyone,” Wood hissed, trying to keep his anger to a dull roar. “My door was locked. How’d you get in here anyway?”
Bishop squared off with him, both of them standing eye to eye. “I used the spare key Trent keeps under the mat.” Bishop held up the single bronze-colored key as if it was a trophy.
“Well, we’re moving it,” Wood snarled and snatched the key away.
“Hey! That key has always been there. It’s for emergencies, Wood.”
Wood threw his arms up, gesturing around. “Where’s the damn fire, Bishop? What emergency?”
“I came to check on my brother,” Bishop argued, refusing to back down. “What the hell did you do, Wood?”
“Did you have to come check on him at o’dark thirty? Trent’s asleep.”
“I said what did you do? What the hell happened last night?”
“I had a fight with my man, Bishop. Is that unheard of?”
“With my brother, yes.”
Wood gripped the sides of his head in frustration. “For Christ’s sake, man. You and Mike act like you’re the damn Corleone family or something. It was a misunderstanding. We’re fine now.”
“Let me see for myself,” Bishop demanded, trying to get past him.
“Forget you.” Wood snagged Bishop’s elbow. “He’s not dressed.”
“Both of you shut up,” Trent grumbled, coming out of the room with his robe hanging off one shoulder.
“You’re supposed to be resting,” Wood said as Trent shoved past them to get to the bathroom.
“I would be if I was hearing impaired,” Trent said before he closed the door.
Wood shoved Bishop in his chest. “See what you did.”
Bishop pushed him back, making him hit the wall with a loud thud. “Me? You snatched my key away.”
“It’s not your key, bonehead. You don’t live here!”
“I said shut up!” Trent yelled from behind the door. “Nobody wants to hear this shit first thing in the morning.”
Bishop stood there staring at Trent when he came out tightening his old robe. “You good, dude?”
Trent nodded and cut his eyes to Wood. “Yeah, B. I’m all right. Wood’s right. I shouldn’t’ve run off like that yesterday and not given him a chance to explain.”
“Explain what?” Bishop glanced back and forth between them.
“Adam popped up,” Wood answered finally.
Bishop’s mouth resembled an O as recognition seemed to set in. Wood had spent many nights after lights-out talking with Bishop about his ex-fiancé.
“Great,” Trent mumbled. “So, you know him?”
“I know of him,” Bishop answered, then went in the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. “I guess you and the ex didn’t hit it off, huh, Trent? Well, there goes your throuple fantasy, Wood.”
Trent chuckled. “You’re an ass, Bishop.”
“Was just saying.”
Trent grabbed a box of cereal off the refrigerator, and Wood took it out of his hands before he could get a bowl. “I’m hungry,” Trent sighed. “You have to let me go back to eating my cereal in peace.”
“It’s a bunch of sugar and crap. No. You’re already feeling sluggish. One bowl a week of this mess is all right, maybe. But I told you already you need a better breakfast.”
Bishop scoffed. “Bro. Is Wood your boyfriend or your daddy?”
“Both,” Wood bit out sharply before Trent could answer.
Trent scowled, but Wood noticed he didn’t correct him. “Well, what do you want me to eat, then? Some eggs Florentine, maybe some crepes?”
“God you’re such a brat,” Wood grumbled, setting a skillet on the stovetop and pulling some sausage and the last four eggs out of the refrigerator. “I’ll make you a sandwich.”
“Make that two.” Bishop raised his hand.
“Since I need your help with something today, I’ll go ahead and do it this time.”
Trent and Bishop drank their apple juice and talked while Wood made them an early breakfast. “You mean to tell us Edison didn’t make you homemade biscuits and gravy before you left the house?”
“Nope. I’m kinda in the doghouse, actually. Which in Edison’s world means no more lovin’… or cooking, until I apologize.”
Trent reared back and laughed. “And you’re over here giving Wood shit. You’ve got some nerve. What did you do?”
Bishop rubbed his big hand across his forehead. “I guess I might’ve snapped at him when I got frustrated with some schoolwork. He was trying to explain it to me after I wasn’t understanding the instructor, and I may have cursed a little.”
“Cursed a little…” Trent prompted.
“I told him to just leave me the hell alone and that I had it,” Bishop said quietly.