Chapter 9 #2
Carver frowned at the idea. He wanted the boy's trust. Wanted to know that the boy felt safe with him.
It was more than his normal feelings of providing safety to others.
Usually it was to get whoever had been harmed and get them to Royce.
From there, they would take care of things.
Carver would occasionally think about who he'd saved through the years, but he never had the urge to take care of them himself.
This time was different.
“We'll do whatever you suggest,” Carver told Fury. “I’m going to put him in the room beside mine. I figure that's the best place for him so I can hear if anything goes wrong.”
Fury's brow furrowed. “I agree it's a good idea. However, I would go as far as to say he might end up in the room with you.”
Carver's eyes went wide. “What do you mean? Why would he need to be in the room with me?”
A part of him liked the sound of that. Having the boy close would assure Carver that nothing bad would happen to him.
Whether it be by his own hand or because one of his men were too curious.
They'd never brought anyone back to the compound.
Never had someone in such a vulnerable state behind their doors.
While he believed none of his men would hurt the boy, their proximity alone could do damage that would be ten times harder to fix.
Fury sat his coffee mug down on the table beside him and gave Carver his full attention.
“What I'm saying, Prez, is that he might want the comfort of the person who rescued him.
He might not want to be alone in his own bed.
Trauma can be a tricky thing to navigate because while you don't want to relive those moments, sometimes your mind can't help but to do so.
That means you feel as if you're in that bad place over and over again. It can create more damage than being with someone would.”
Carver understood what Fury was saying. It made sense.
The issue was knowing what would be best. They'd have to wait and see once the boy woke up again. It was going to be a lot of trial and error. He hoped it was less error and more success, but he wasn't going to hold his breath.
Doc cleared his throat, taking both men's attention. “If the two of you would like to help, we need to get him cleaned up and bandaged. I've done what I can to stop the bleeding for now. I still want to cover the scratches, so he doesn't pick at them.”
Fury stood, and Carver approached as well. Doc went about giving them instructions on how to wipe down the wounds and make sure everything was in line. He followed their movements while taking care of securing bandages as well.
It only took a short time with the three of them working diligently. Once the boy was all taken care of and cleaned up, Carver startled.
He was gorgeous. Like something out of a movie or a modeling campaign. His hair was short and blond, the waves in it were obvious now that it had been washed. His skin was pale, making the bruises look rather rough.
Carver could see past all those marks to what laid beneath.
It was going to be a challenge not to stare at him all the time.
He was used to rough and tough guys. His men were big, brawny creatures who were more Neanderthal than civilized sometimes.
It's what happened when a bunch of guys lived together.
Sure, there were women that came into the compound. Usually it was to entertain the men unless one of them became an old lady. With the Angels having as many queer members as they did, it was still way more testosterone than estrogen in the place.
And this boy was the opposite of everything Carver knew.
He stared a bit longer, then turned to face Doc and Fury. The two men were already looking at him, their gazes assessing.
Carver shook his head then asked Doc, "Is he good to move now?"
Doc gave him a quick nod. “He is. I’ll send Fury up behind you with any extra bandages you might need. If he wakes up and rips them off, you'll need to replace them right away."
"I understand," Carver told him as he slid his arms beneath the boy's loose form.
Because he was sedated, he was completely limp. Even so, he was not heavy at all. He felt even lighter than before when Carver had carried him out of the building.
Was it because Carver had seen how broken he was that his weight held no burden? Or was it because the boy was merely a step above skin and bones?
As he made his way to his room with Fury behind him, Carver noted the few faces turning his way. Most of the men were still up after having been awoken by the young man's screams. They were watching Carver, who kept his face neutral the entire time.
Once he was at the door to the room beside him, he pushed it open with his foot and stepped inside. The space held a minimal amount of furniture. It was really just enough to keep the room from being used for storage. Carver laid the boy on the bed, then covered him gently with a blanket.
Fury placed the medical supplies on top of the dresser off to the side of the room. When he turned to Carver, he tilted his head as if to say, "Meet me outside." Fury stepped out and Carver stayed only a moment longer to take in the boy's sleeping form. Then he went to meet with the other man.
They closed the door just enough to muffle their voices while still being able to hear should the boy suddenly wake up. Though Doc said it would be morning, Carver still felt uneasy.
What if the boy woke up in a panic? What if he tried to run away? There were too many variables to the situation. Too many instances that could go wrong if Carver wasn't the one to keep an eye on him.
"Prez," Fury said, dragging his attention away from the crack in the door.
"Just tell me what you're thinking, Fury." Carver demanded.
Fury tilted his head. "I'm trying to figure out if the attention you're giving this boy is because of your own past and you knowing how it feels or because there's something more going on."
Carver fought not to react to his words. Fury would notice every small detail. He'd known Carver long enough to decipher his movements.
"I'll be honest with you, Fury," he started.
"There's a lot going on here that I don't understand myself so I can't give you a definite answer.
What I can tell you is that I'm going to do everything in my damn power to take care of that boy in there.
I'm going to see that he gets the help he needs.
After that, it's anyone's guess. Are you gonna be able to help me with that? "
Fury smirked. "Of course I am. I'm the best around. You know this."
Carver returned the smirk. "Don't go getting a big head." He clapped Fury on the shoulder. "Why don't you head back to bed? There's nothing left to do now. We just have to wait until he wakes up."
The other man didn't say anything else. He took off back down the hall.
Even though Fury had guzzled his cup of coffee, he would be back asleep in no time.
He'd learned how to adapt through the years, much like the rest of the Angels had.
You never knew when there would be a moment you had to go from deep sleep to fully awake.
Learning how to train your body to go in and out of those modes was crucial.
Carver stood by the door where the boy slept for several minutes. He debated going to his own room. He wanted to go back to sleep because he knew the day ahead would be rough. At the same time, he felt the urge to grab a blanket and sit in the room with the boy.
Letting the latter emotion win, he stepped inside his room, pulled his comforter off his bed, and returned to the room where the boy slept. He took a look around and realized there really wasn't an area for him to sit comfortably. It really was barely furnished.
Though he was far too old to do so, he put his back against the wall and let himself sink down to the floor. He leaned in such a way to hopefully not fall over, but at the same time appear less threatening should the boy wake up and see him.
With the door closed and it being just the two of them, Carver relaxed. The morning would be here soon enough. He had a million and one things to get done.
Before any of it could happen, he needed to make sure the boy was okay. As his eyes closed, he pictured the golden waves and the boy's face as he slept. It transformed to what he imagined the boy would look like smiling.
He longed to know what that would be like.
Carver wanted to give the boy a sense of happiness. He would do so no matter what the cost.
He wasn't prez of one of the most lethal motorcycle clubs in North America for no reason. He always got what he wanted, and what he wanted this time was to see his boy happy.