28
LOGAN
B loom landed on top of me a second after I lowered myself to the bed, his ass landing perfectly in my lap with his legs on either side of me. He had a knowing look as he caught my hands and held them above my head. With a lazy smile, I relaxed, waiting to see what he would do. We both knew he preferred me leading in the bedroom. Preferred when I took charge of him and made him submit.
He bent forward and nipped at my neck, chuckling when I twitched under him.
“It’d take divine intervention to get me hard.” I brushed his hair back from his face. “You’ve worn me out over the past two days.”
Two days of loving on him just to remind myself he was more than the monster who’d mutilated his victim with a knife. He was also the sweet young man who loved being touched and called sweetheart.
He pouted. “I don’t mind your fingers and your tongue. In fact, I like those very much.”
I ran my hands up his thighs and between his legs. “I’m surprised you’re still hard. You weren’t kidding when you said you think about this all the time, were you?”
“No, does this mean I can sit on your face?”
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“Doc, you in there?” a loud, urgent voice asked through the door, followed by more banging.
“Sarge, we’re a little busy in here,” Bloom shouted back.
“For fuck’s sake, Bloom, you’ve barely left the room in two days. Give it a rest already. You’re traumatizing poor Crowe.”
“What do you want?”
“Chris is hurt. I need the doc to take a look at him.”
I opened my mouth to respond I would be right there.
“Can’t it wait?” Bloom beat me to it.
I missed performing surgeries, but the bikers were a reckless enough bunch to give me my fair share of setting broken bones and sewing them up. At this rate, they could hire me as a full-time doctor.
“I swear to god, Bloom, I’ll take the bloody door off its hinges!”
“It’s okay.” I covered Bloom’s mouth before he could respond in kind. “I’m coming now.”
Bloom glared. I rolled us over and got off the bed. “It may be serious. We can have sex anytime.”
“Or take a break,” Sarge muttered. “Tired of hearing all the fucking behind closed doors. Jesus.”
I grabbed a pair of sweats from the chair and pulled it on. “Do you want my help or what?” I cried, then winked at Bloom. I was getting too familiar with the way they yelled, cursed, and threatened each other. Their twisted way of showing affection.
“Yeah, all right, just hurry up,” Sarge grumbled.
“We should probably get something to eat anyway,” I said to Bloom. “Take a shower, and we’ll meet in the mess hall.”
“Okay, then.” Bloom’s pout was still on his face. A part of me wanted to rush back and lavish him with the attention he craved from me. But duty called. With one last lingering look, I walked out of the bedroom.
Sarge, who stood directly in front of the door, stared past my shoulder to where Bloom lay spread on the bed, naked. I pulled the door shut quickly.
He must have understood my frown because he shook his head. “Trust me, Doc, I have no thoughts there. You’re the only one brave enough to hook up with that boy. The rest of us much prefer the current location of our dicks. Plus, he’s the kid we all had a hand in raising.”
“Good to know. Where’s Chris?”
He ran his hands through his hair and huffed out a breath. “This way.”
I followed him to the mess hall, where Chris sat in a chair at the long communal table, his face pale. His grimace gave way to the stubborn jut of a chin and squinted eyes as he glared at Sarge. His leather jacket hung loosely around him, and he was cradling one arm against his chest. The left side of his face was discolored and the area above his right eye swollen.
“What happened?” I gently took Chris’s face and turned it toward me for a closer inspection. His jaw was still aligned. The bruising was awful, but there didn’t seem to be any permanent damage.
“Speed racing.” Sarge crossed his arms. “He wiped out. Luckily, he’s not fucking dead. Is he gonna be all right?”
Chris gritted his teeth. “I’m fine. It was just an accident. Could have happened to anyone.”
“Except you weren’t wearing your fucking helmet. How many times do I—”
“Sarge, will you do me a favor and get me a warm towel?” I asked.
If he and Chris kept arguing, they would only make my inspection harder. Sarge was being over the top, but it was plain he cared about the boy. Whatever Chris had done had shaken him up.
“Try not to break your neck in the two minutes I’ll be gone, will you?” Sarge snapped and marched off to fetch what I asked.
“You look like hell,” I said when Sarge was out of earshot. “This is your chance to tell me where it hurts now that the protective giant of yours is out of the way.”
“He’s not mine.” But the way his eyes followed after Sarge didn’t hide how much he wanted the biker to be.
“I hit my cheek pretty hard,” he said. “My hip and right arm hurt like a bitch.”
I gingerly prodded where he cradled his arm, eliciting a wince and a hiss of pain from him. He panted, sweat dripping from his brow.
He’s hurting way more than he’s letting on.
“We need to get you out of this jacket and your shirt so I can check you out properly.” I reached for his jacket, but he tensed.
“Don’t.”
“What’s going on?” Sarge appeared at my elbow, brows narrowed as he eyed me suspiciously as if I was the reason the guy he clearly had feelings for was banged up.
“I need him to take his shirt off so I can examine him.”
Sarge glanced around the room at the bikers sitting at the other tables, nursing their beer. “Not here.”
“What?”
He threw the damp towel at me, then bent to scoop up Chris in his arms like he weighed nothing. “Let’s go to my room.”
“I can walk!” Chris squirmed in Sarge’s arms. “You don’t gotta treat me like I’m delicate. Sarge!”
“Can it. I’m still upset with you,” Sarge barked. “If you’d listened to me, this wouldn’t have happened. Why do you gotta be so damn reckless?”
Chris grumbled under his breath but stopped struggling, resigned to his fate. Snickers from the bikers trailed us out of the mess hall.
“That’s right, Sarge. Show him who’s in charge.”
I followed them, feeling a mix of amusement and concern, but I knew by now not to take the bikers too seriously. Sarge’s bedroom was meticulous. The space was simple, with a neatly made bed, a wooden desk with a chair, and a wardrobe in the corner.
Sarge set Chris down on the edge of the bed and stepped back. I moved in front of Chris, keeping my voice calm and professional.
“All right, let’s take a look.”
Chris clutched the front of his shirt and clenched his jaw. He glanced up at Sarge from beneath his long eyelashes.
“It’s okay,” Sarge said softly despite the gruff manner he’d spoken to the younger guy earlier.
As if that was all the reassurance he needed, Chris slowly peeled off his jacket. When he had trouble getting his injured arm out of the sleeve, Sarge stepped in to help. He took off Chris’s T-shirt as well, swearing under his breath at the bruising that spread across his ribs and down his side, disappearing into his cargo pants. A blanket of deep purples, blues, and sickly greens marred his skin in a violent display.
I understood why Sarge was so angry. He could have easily died.
My gaze caught on the scars running across Chris’s chest, and it clicked. Chris was trans. He hadn’t wanted to remove his shirt in the mess hall because he was self-conscious about the scars, which had healed nicely but stood out from his pale chest.
From Sarge’s lack of reaction, he already knew. Of course. That was the reason he’d understood right away that the boy needed privacy. None of the bikers had ever made any statement about Chris, which impressed the hell out of me. They were far more accepting and open than I would have thought. My Mafia family would never have understood. They’d killed the man I was having sex with because they deemed him a temptation for me.
These men are different. They’re nothing at all like my family.
I kept my expression neutral, focusing on the injuries instead of my surprise. Despite the ugly nature of the bruises, he was just banged up with a dislocated arm. I carefully touched it. Chris swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the bed with his good hand. Sarge hovered next to him.
“This is going to hurt but not for long.” Before he could brace himself, I jerked his shoulder back into place. A sharp gasp escaped Chris’s lips as he slumped forward with a moan. Sarge caught him, wrapping an arm protectively around the boy. “Easy. It’s over.”
“Technically, it’s going to get a lot worse before it gets better,” I said. “It’ll be a miracle if you’re able to get out of bed tomorrow.”
Sarge flicked Chris in the forehead.
“Ouch.”
“You do anything this crazy again, and I’ll be done with it and break your legs myself.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
I shook my head. They seemed to have forgotten I was in the room.
“Whenever you’re done with whatever is happening here, Sarge, stop by my room, and I’ll give you some painkillers for Chris and a tube of antibiotics he can use on that road rash.”
I left them to their bickering, heading back to Bloom’s bedroom, but he was not there. I grabbed the medicine I’d promised Sarge and popped back into his room, pushing the door open without knocking.
“Here you—”
Chris was straddling Sarge’s lap, and their lips were fused together. Sarge reacted first, jumping to his feet and dumping Chris onto the bed.
“Son of a bitch,” Chris cursed, clutching his side.
“Sorry. I—”
Sarge bulldozed past me through the door. What the hell was up with him? It was clear they both had feelings for each other.
I’m sure he has his reasons.
“Bad timing, Doc,” Chris mumbled. “He was just starting to kiss me back.”
“Forgive me. I thought you’d need these more.”
He took the medication, lay on his back, and stared up at the ceiling. “Doesn’t matter anyway. I’m tired of chasing after him. Guess I’m not man enough for him.”
“I doubt he thinks that.”
But Chris didn’t seem interested in what I had to say. I left him to take his medicine and checked the mess hall. Bloom was sitting at one of the tables, two muffins in front of him.
“What’s wrong?” I asked in response to his frown.
“Sarge is leaving.”
“Leaving? The clubhouse?”
“No, Smoky Vale.”
I lowered myself into the chair next to him. “Where would he go?”
“Who knows? He’s a nomad, so he’s all over the globe sometimes. He only came back because I was in the hospital. Did something happen between him and Chris?”
“Does kissing count?”
He groaned. “That would do it. Sarge is celibate. If Chris is tempting him, he’ll leave.”
I snagged one of the muffins. “Celibate?” Did Bloom know what that word meant? I couldn’t imagine a biker among them being celibate.
“Yeah, lost his family years ago and took an oath to be celibate until he finds out what happened to them.”
“Oh, then that’s definitely the reason he’s leaving. Too bad Chris seems to have the wrong idea of why Sarge is rejecting him.”
“What does he think?”
“Because he’s…” I took a bite of the muffin.
“What?”
I swallowed. “Did you know that Chris is…um…trans?”
“Well, yeah. I was here before he had his surgery.”
“Oh. It’s impressive how accepting everyone here is. I’ve never heard anyone slip up or treat him differently.”
Bloom looked genuinely puzzled. “Why would we treat him differently? Nobody cares what he is. He’s one of us. That’s all that matters.”
I nodded, my respect for the bikers growing. They weren’t what I’d expected when I’d first met them. They constantly proved me wrong. The longer I spent around them, the more I realized being a criminal wasn’t the reason my family was messed up. These men had certain priorities straight. The respect they had for each other was nothing short of astounding.
“That’s good.”
“It wasn’t always like this,” Bloom said. “Crowe’s and Winter’s Dads ran the club for a long time, back when we were Bloodlets. They were cruel assholes. Since he took over, Crowe’s been changing things. That’s why we love Smoky Vale. Sure, it’s dangerous, but the people treat each other better regardless of who you fuck. Did you know Crowe had never been with another man before Max? And Win had to hide that he was gay while we were back in Riverton. Bay’s bi, so he just stuck to women for a long time. Here, we can be whatever we want.”
“That’s the way it should be.”
“Yeah.” Bloom snorted. “I’d love for the day some asshole tells me who to sleep with. It’d be the last word they’d say.”
A shiver ran down my spine. I inhaled deeply and released the breath slowly.
“Bloom.”
“Hmm?”
“I was thinking…”
“Is it something bad?”
“No…I don’t think so.”
“Then what is it?”
“Crowe made a point once that I wasn’t encouraging you enough to go to your therapy appointments. He was right. Your injury interrupted your visits for a while, but now that you’re up and about, I want you to consider going again.”
Bloom frowned, picking the other muffin apart without trying to eat it. “I’m fine. Why do I need to see a shrink?” He widened his eyes. “Do you think that something’s wrong with me? Are you having second thoughts about me?”
“No.” I reached for his hand, but he snatched it away. “I’m thinking about your well-being and that we shouldn’t take it for granted because you’ve been having a more stable time. Often, seeing a professional for mental health is lifelong. I don’t expect you to be magically cured because we’re together. As a medical doctor, I would be irresponsible to condone this.”
“What are you saying? I have to go to a shrink if I want to be with you?”
“No, just that I hope you consider going to one. Someone you can talk to about the things you don’t want to tell me. It doesn’t even have to be Dr. Simms. I’ll find a new psychiatrist for you, someone who you’re more comfortable around.”
Bloom shook his head. “I don’t want to meet someone new and start all over again. Do you really think I need to continue my sessions?”
It would be so easy to please him and tell him I was wrong, but I couldn’t do that to him. “I do.”
“You won’t force me to go if I don’t want to.”
“Of course not. I want you to see the importance and decide to go on your own. Does that make sense?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want it to make sense, but…I’ll think about it.”
“Good. How about we ditch these muffins and go somewhere to have a decent breakfast?”
He nodded but looked wary as if he thought I was using breakfast to lure him to meet a psychiatrist right this moment. I hated that I’d put that mistrust in his eyes, but in time, he would understand I was doing this for his own good.