“Yeah…” Bishop sneered. “I didn’t know either.”
“B,” Mike warned.
Bishop moved Edison aside and got in Mike’s face, speaking in a hushed growl. “Dad, what the hell are you doing? How the fuck old is he? You know what, it doesn’t matter. He’s a damn sex addict. What are you thinking?”
“Bishop. What are you saying?” Edison glared. “Rayne seems like a really nice guy.”
“I didn’t say he wasn’t.”
Mike eased Edison to the side as the muscles in his back tightened with frustration, and his tension soared. He stood chest to chest with his son, butting their foreheads together. They were so evenly matched that it always made Edison antsy when they did their posturing thing, not sure who was going to get thrown into a headlock or bodychecked first. But Edison didn’t have to worry. Mike was about to make this lesson short and sweet.
He jabbed his pointer finger into Bishop’s right pec. “I didn’t teach you to judge people, B. Rayne’s made some bad choices, but he’s trying to turn his life around. You of all people should understand that,” Mike berated him, his teeth clenched tight to keep his voice low. He stared his son down until he made him look away.
Bishop looked back at him, his anger resurfacing as he stabbed Mike in his own chest just as forcefully as he’d done him. “I’m not judging him. I’m fuckin’ questioning you. Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were bi?”