Chapter 2
Nicholas
Iswitched on the light in my office, damn near jumping out of my skin when I spotted Drew in the dark, rifling through my cabinet of bandages and first aid ointments and sprays.
He turned to look at me as if he was doing nothing wrong, and I scowled.
“You damn near gave me a fucking heart attack,” I snapped.
“What are you doing in here in the fucking dark, boy?”
At almost ten years younger than me, Drew was everything I might have wanted back in my twenties when I was a doctor back in San Diego.
But now, I just wanted peace. And Drew would disrupt that.
So, I looked my fill of him when I could—discreetly—but I never let on that I wanted him.
My hand worked just fine, as did my imagination.
Besides, an attachment to a man like Drew was just asking for trouble.
His hands were metaphorically bloody, and he slept like a baby at night despite what he did for this family.
A man like that wasn’t a fit for a doctor like me. I was meant to heal people.
Drew turned his whole body to face me then and held up his hands, showing me his knuckles. They were battered and bloody, the skin split open. He was dripping blood all over my floor, and he’d smeared blood on my cabinet.
I sighed, already dreading the disinfecting I’d have to do now that he’d gotten blood everywhere. “Why didn’t you call me?” I demanded. “Sit down somewhere and I’ll take care of you.”
Without a word, Drew lifted himself onto the hospital gurney, his bloodied hands staining the white sheets, but I knew the cleaner Rico hired specifically to deal with blood spills would get it out and make it pristine and brand new once again.
Shaking my head, I quickly grabbed what I needed, then dropped it onto the mattress beside him.
After laying out a towel, I pointed and instructed, “Lay your hands flat, and do not move them.”
“Sir, yes, sir,” he muttered, placing his red-stained hands flat on the towel over his lap. I quickly set to work cleaning the wounds with alcohol. He didn’t flinch or hiss, even though I knew it had to burn like a bitch. He just sat still and quiet, watching me as I worked.
Drew had a way of taking in everything that made me feel…
open. Like he could see past all my defenses to the shit I hid from the world.
My life had never been hard. I’d grown up privileged.
Money wasn’t really a concern of mine. But being born to wealthy parents who had an image to uphold meant remaining in the closet, never getting to be who I truly was.
Nothing could tarnish their perfect reputation, especially not my gayness.
I was meant to marry a woman from another wealthy family, one who could benefit their business in the long run.
But then, I’d gone and gotten wrongly fired for malpractice, and they hadn’t cared about anything I had to say.
They only cared about my name and face getting splashed all over their news, which meant they got dragged into it as well, even though they had nothing to do with what’d happened.
When I lost my job, I lost my family, too.
And even at damn near forty years old… that shit still cut deep.
Because the love of family was supposed to be unconditional.
Something I was learning was truly unconditional here.
Rico was a dick, but he bent over backward to take care of all the misfits he’d taken in, me included.
“Get out of your head, doc,” Drew murmured.
Blinking, I lifted my head, looking at him.
His dark eyes clashed with mine, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
His gaze was so intense, it was like he could see right down to the depths of my soul.
See how much I fucking ached for him, even though I’d never allow myself to have him.
“You got so lost in your head, you literally stopped working,” Drew added after a moment. “You good?”
“I’m fine,” I gruffly responded, focusing back on his hands. I applied bandages to his knuckles and wrapped them up. “You need to keep these clean,” I told him as I began to put away everything. “They’re already swelling, so maybe soaking them in some warm water with Epsom salt will help them—”
My words died in my throat when I turned to grab the bottle of alcohol, only to bump right into Drew’s solid, broad chest. I took a step back, clenching my jaw when I realized I was now flush against the bloodied cabinet.
Drew had me pinned, and the predatory gleam in his eyes told me he was well aware of that fact… and that it’d been his intention.
Just what the fuck was he playing at?
“Can I come see you to take care of it for me?” he asked.
He very well knew he could. That was literally the reason Rico signed my paychecks—to take care of his men when they injured themselves or got hurt on the job.
But the way he asked… there was a hidden meaning behind his words. I just didn’t know what.
“You know you can,” I rasped, hating how much of an effect he had on me. “That’s literally my job.”
He smirked and took a step back. “I’ll see you in a few hours then, doc.”
With that, he turned on his booted heel and left my office, disappearing up the hall. I swallowed thickly and rubbed the back of my neck, hating the sweat that’d beaded there.
I had no idea what the fuck just transpired between us, but I was off-kilter, and Drew had suddenly changed everything up.
Never had he gotten up in my space before, and never had he come seen me over busted up knuckles.
Getting his hands fucked up was something he tended to do on a regular basis—well, he had before he’d become Maksim’s bodyguard.
There used to never be a day I didn’t see Drew beating someone to a bloody pulp within the training ring.
Something had changed, and my stomach was queasy that I didn’t know what. And the unknown… yeah, I fucking hated that.