5. Jack #2
Silas opens my door and reaches over me, undoing my seatbelt, giving me a small, steady smile as he straightens up. He hasn’t let me do a single thing since the hospital, even insisting on standing outside the toilet door, waiting for me.
I had argued with him, but he’d stood there, taking up most of the small hospital bathroom, staring down at me. “Dove, I’m not arguing. Go, take your shower.”
The worst thing was, I had needed him. He had stripped down and joined me in the shower, washing my hair and body with a tenderness that had completely undone me—right up until my moans had been loudly overheard.
We had both gotten a blistering lecture from the head nurse about letting my body heal before getting ahead of ourselves, sternly reminded that it was entirely unacceptable behavior and that we should know our place.
Silas had sat there biting the inside of his cheek, trying desperately not to laugh, while I lay frozen on the bed, utterly mortified.
As he stands outside my car door holding his hand out, I chuckle. Yeah, this is going to be interesting. Silas is going to be an overbearing bear if I don’t watch it.
“Silas, I can get out of the car by myself, you know,” I say, my voice tight with an edge of frustration.
“I know that, but I’m not letting you, so deal with it,” Silas replies, his hand suspended between us.
I huff, taking it, and stand slowly. As much as I hate to admit it, I appreciate the help. There may have been a few times when Silas had to help me dress, and it was a big deal. A huge deal—especially when his mouth had grazed my cock as he whispered Good boy before pulling my track pants up.
Dick.
So, while I wait for him to grab our bags out of the car, I watch him.
His ass looks incredible in his jeans, the material pulling tight when he bends over.
His shirt buttons are nearly popping from the stretch of his pecs, but it’s the loose tendrils of dark hair falling around his face that make my fingers itch.
I want to touch him, to tuck those stray pieces behind his ear.
I shove my hands into the pockets of my pants, keeping myself from reaching for him as he walks back over to me, a soft smile playing on his lips.
“Welcome home, baby.” His voice is quiet and gentle as he holds our bags.
I smile. “Good to be back.”
He throws his keys on the hall table and guides me into the lounge, lowering me carefully onto the couch.
“You need anything?” he asks.
I shake my head, letting my body sink into the cushions, and close my eyes.
* * *
I wake with a sharp jolt when the front door slams against the frame with a force that can only belong to a ten-year-old, and I hear Hale screaming my name. I watch as he races into the room, heading straight for me, before coming to a sudden, screeching halt as he sees my injuries.
His face bunches up, and he starts crying. Crying for me.
“Hey, buddy,” I say quietly, lifting an arm. “Come here.”
He walks slowly over, standing in front of me, waiting for permission to touch me. I take his arm lightly, pulling him onto the couch beside me.
“Be careful of his ribs, Hale,” Silas warns gently.
I pull him a little closer, but ribs screaming, but I don’t say anything, because I know Silas will pull Haze away, and I need to hold him.
“He’s fine, aren’t ya, Haze,” I say as he grabs my arm and gently lays his entire body against my side.
He melts into me like he’s been holding his breath since I left. “I was so scared, Jax,” he whispers.
The nickname breaks me apart, and I fight to hold back the tears stinging behind my eyelids. I blink rapidly to clear them, but a couple escape and fall down my cheeks.
I open my eyes to find Silas watching me carefully. I look away because I know exactly what he sees: a broken man. Damaged not only physically, but emotionally and mentally. So I do what I need to do right now. I ignore him.
“I’m okay, just sore, but it’s nothing time won’t fix,” I murmur against the boy’s head.
I watch as Eli walks in, coming and sitting on the coffee table in front of me. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I mimic, because I don’t know what else to say.
“How are you feeling?”
“Meds help, but the trip was still rough. But I’m grateful I’m here.”
CJ walks in and stands next to Silas, who now wears a heavy frown on his brow.
CJ’s eyes flick over my injuries, then move to Silas, before coming back to me. He’s not saying anything, but the look on his face tells me he has questions, though he goes with an easy one.
“How are you doing?” CJ asks.
“Okay. Ribs are the worst, but it’s not like I haven’t had this happen before,” I say with a small shrug.
From when I was eight, my father and uncle made sure the fights they entered me into were always against bigger, heavier opposition. The more blood, the more money they collected. So these injuries, agonizing as they are, are nothing new.
Silas grunts, turns on his heel, and heads for the kitchen. “I’m putting coffee on,” he says, his voice gruff.
I frown after him and sigh.
“Ignore him,” CJ says. “I’ll go see what’s wrong.”
He leaves, and I’m left with Hale and Eli. I shift Hale slightly so my arm rests securely around his shoulder, my fingers lightly threading through his hair, offering him the comfort he needs right now. I listen to him, watch his tears dry and his breathing soften as he settles against me.
“What happened?” Eli asks softly.
I know his nurse instincts are kicking in. I know he sees the signature map of a fight written across my skin, recognizing the bruises left by fists and feet better than anyone. Not just because he’s a nurse, but because of his abusive ex.
Eli used to wear bruises just like mine; the only difference is that I willingly take the hits, while Eli never did.
“Nothing.” I’m not talking about it, not with Hale beside me.
Eli takes the hint and leaves it alone. CJ and Silas come back in with coffees, and for the next hour, I sit, Hale wrapped around me, Silas sitting next to me with his thigh pressed hard against mine, and CJ and Eli filling the silence.
* * *
Later, after CJ and Eli have left, Hale and Silas help me back to Silas’s bed. Hale climbs in right beside me with his tablet and chucks his headphones on, while Silas sits on the edge of the mattress, his hand sits next to my thigh.
“You need anything right now? Your meds are due soon, but what about something to eat?” Silas asks.
“You know, you make a pretty perfect mother hen, Sol,” I say with a small smile.
The movement pulls at my split lip, breaking the scab open, and I feel the warm slide of fresh blood.
Silas reaches up, and gently wipes the blood from my lip. “Only for you, Jack,” he says quietly, slipping his blood covered thumb straight into his mouth.
My breath hitches. I freeze.
Silas’s eyes stay locked on mine as his lips close around his thumb. It’s slow, unconscious, and the room seems to narrow around us.
He pulls his thumb free, “Hmm,” his hum is barely a sound, but the sound has heat in it to send a warmth rushing through me so fast it’s dizzying.
I can’t speak, let alone move. I can only stare at him, at the softness in his shoulders, at the way he’s trying to look unaffected and failing miserably.
Hale shifts beside me, pulling my attention from Silas and his finger, which still hovers in front of his mouth. I snap my gaze back to him, and watch as his fingers move to my lip again. He brushes the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip, and I pull in a sharp breath.
“Easy,” he murmurs, voice low, as he watches my lips.
I swallow hard, dragging in another breath. My ribs ache, my lip throbs, I have to shift to hide my extremely hard cock from Hale, and my entire body is exhausted, but none of it matters. Not when he’s looking at me like that. Not when the air between us feels thick enough to touch.
I nod, because words aren’t happening. Not right now.
Silas squeezes my hand once, gentle, then shifts back just enough to give me space, without actually letting go.
And I lie there, stunned, trying to pretend I’m not unraveling under the weight of him.