Chapter 27
Chapter twenty-seven
The Hospital, Anaheim
They took Bryce out of the room to get an MRI of his knee, leaving Pilot to sit and wait.
He couldn't make himself leave, even to check in with people in the waiting area who would want to know what was going on.
He didn't have anything to tell them anyway and the thought of Bryce returning to an empty room crushed his heart.
So, he waited, checking his phone for any news from Tate or the Apex team.
Eventually, a nurse wheeled Bryce back into the room and situated him on the bed with another icepack on his knee.
Pilot let out a huge sigh; he needed Bryce to be better.
That mattered. He could examine the why of it later.
But, under the surface, a lot more concern for Bryce rolled around than should be there.
Reasonably, he knew that Tate favored the kid, and he suspected that Tate's feelings ran deeper than he let on.
Yet, that didn't bother Pilot at all. He wasn't jealous or envious. Pilot knew Tate loved him and that was enough, but he suspected something more going on with Bryce and not just from Tate’s side.
Pilot did not want to keep picking at it like a sore, only to make it bleed.
He stood by the bed, looking down at Bryce. His purple streaked hair flopped over his eyes, making Pilot want to move it. The kid's eyes practically jumped out at him, bright blue, dazzling in the harsh hospital light. “How you doing, kid?”
Bryce gave him a halfhearted shrug and frowned, making Pilot want to change his facial expression.
He needed Bryce smiling and laughing like he had been at the bar.
This sullen, hurt Bryce had his heart cracking.
He didn't know what to say to make it better, and really? What words could make this better?
He rested his hand on Bryce's good leg. He hoped Bryce would appreciate the affection, but even if he didn't, Pilot needed the contact. Since starting this relationship with Tate, he was becoming a much more tactile person.
Bryce exhaled loudly. “I just want them to hurry the hell up and tell me what's wrong so I can get the hell out of here.”
“Yeah, it sucks. Waiting is the worst.”
Tate stormed into the ER and charged over to the waiting room where several people from the track stood around.
He recognized a few from Bryce’s team like his manager, George, his coach, Reuben, and a few others from the TopSport crew.
Angel sat in a chair with her legs crossed and phone to her head.
He waved to her and then headed for the desk.
He could check in with the others later, but Tate couldn’t wait to see Bryce.
Thankfully, they let him back without much fuss.
He didn’t have to throw a tantrum or anything, just stick a name tag on and head on down the hall.
When he found the room, he rushed in and made a beeline for the bed. “Bryce. What’s going on?”
“Hey.” He seemed kind of out of it, so Tate turned to Pilot.
“He’s had some pain killers. They took him for an MRI a while back.” Pilot shrugged, and Tate followed the line of his shoulders down his arms to watch his hands caressing Bryce’s leg.
Bryce stared up at him with huge blue eyes, that even drugged seemed to look into Tate’s soul. “Tate? How’d you do in the Main Event? We couldn’t get the race on this stupid TV.”
“First. I was in such a hurry to get here, I just left them all behind.”
Bryce hollered out and raised a fist in the air. “Yeah. Really? First? That rocks.”
“Congrats, baby.” Pilot stood up and walked around the hospital bed with arms open.
Tate fell into them, loving the warm hug.
“I kicked ass. Davey tried to make a comeback at the end, but I wasn’t letting that happen.
Not tonight.” They sat down again, on either side of the bed.
Tate rubbed Bryce’s arm, while Pilot went back to fondling his good leg.
Tate watched the touches from Pilot with interest. He kept waiting for that jealous streak to show up, but it didn’t—at all.
In fact, it made Tate horny. Thinking about where those gentle touches could lead, turned him on.
He'd changed quickly in the pit, and now his dick was pressing hard against the zipper of his jeans. He tried to adjust himself, discreetly. He didn’t know what to think about it all, but he wanted to see Pilot doing more to Bryce than rub his leg.
A knock on the door got everyone's attention, and a tall, dark skinned man with dark hair entered the room. “I'm Doctor Patel. Orthopedics. Your team called me in for this.” He circled the small room, and came up beside the bed, reaching his hand out to Bryce to shake.
“I'm Bryce.” He shook the doctor's hand. “You have results? How bad is it?”
“I do.” He looked around the room, taking in Tate and Pilot.
“They’re good. Go ahead.”
The doctor nodded. Tate sucked his bottom lip in, biting it, wanting the news to be good and fearing the worst. He grabbed Bryce’s hand and squeezed a little.
“I looked at the MRI. I don't think you tore anything. May I?” He pointed to Bryce's knee.
“Sure.”
The doctor removed the ice pack and prodded the knee. Tate could see where Bryce's race pants had been cut at his thigh, and pale white skin peeked out. His knee was red and obviously swollen. The doctor made a humming noise and moved Bryce's leg, which made Bryce cry out. “Hurts there, huh?”
Bryce's voice broke, holding back evidence of his pain. “Fuck yeah. Sorry. Yes, sir.”
“Uh-huh. Okay.” The doctor patted his thigh and turned to face Bryce.
“You've injured your posterior cruciate ligament or PCL.
It doesn't seem to be torn, maybe pulled a little.
It's not from twisting, you see, but it was hit.
Probably your bike or your competitor's bike. Maybe? What happened when you wrecked exactly?”
“Right.” Bryce took a deep breath, his eyes flashing.
“That dick blocked me and I went down, but that was okay, but I went down in the middle of the track, so when I got up, someone came over the jump and landed on me, pinning me between our bikes.” He used the hand Tate wasn’t holding to demonstrate the bike flying through the air, and crashing into his lap, as if it were the track.
“That would do it.”
“Fuck!” Bryce called out again. “How bad?”
“I don't think you'll need surgery. That's good, yes?
Stay off of it for a few days. Then, physical therapy.
I'll have you out of here in a few minutes. Keep icing.” The doctor put the ice pack back on Bryce's leg.
“You need to get the swelling down before therapy.
Before you even try to walk on it. Yes? Okay.
Discharge papers and you'll be out of here.” He shook Bryce's hand again, nodding to Tate and Pilot.
The doctor's words relieved Tate. It could have been so much worse. Surgery could have knocked him out for the rest of the season. “You'll be back on the bike in a month, maybe two. You'll see.” He gripped Bryce's shoulder.
“Right.” Bryce rubbed his face, as if he could rub his expressions away, but Tate could still see the pain.
He could understand. If he was the one in the bed, he'd be bawling like a baby and not just from the physical pain of the injury. Not being on a bike for months? Hell-to-the-no.
“You want to stay with us?” Tate blurted out. “Can he?” He looked over at Pilot. The expression fell off of Pilot's face as if he’d dropped a painted mask, melting off to show nothing beneath, and Tate couldn't read him. “What? Please?”
Bryce moaned loudly. “You don't have to do that. Really.”
“No, I want you.” Pilot's blush rushed over his face. “I mean. I want you to come. Fuck! I mean I want to know you're okay and your parents aren't here, right? So, come with us to our hotel room.”
“Yeah. Okay. I need to get stuff from my room.” Bryce looked down at his hands. Tate couldn't help wondering what he was really thinking. He was about to ask, but Pilot nudged him.
“Let's go tell everyone what's going on. We'll be back in a minute, okay?” He squeezed Bryce's leg, but he might have been squeezing Tate's heart.
“Okay.” Bryce gave them a fake smile. Tate didn't like it, but he knew he needed to talk to Pilot. He wasn't sure Pilot was as happy about Bryce staying with them as he was.
He followed Pilot out of the room, holding his breath. When they were a few steps down the hallway, he couldn't take it. “I know, I know. Pilot, please? I can't stand the thought of him being alone tonight.”
Pilot stopped, standing still for a minute, before turning to face Tate.
His expression was a mix of uncertainty, pain, and love.
“Me either. Tate, man?” He shook his head and held his hands out to the side in resignation.
“I don't know what we're doing here. You and I are so new, but.
..I don't. It feels right, Bryce feels right.
You know what I'm saying? I know you care for him. I do too.”
“Okay. Yeah. I like him. More than I've said. I can't help it. That doesn't mean I don't love you. Damn, Sean.” Tate stepped closer, hoping Pilot would pull him into his arms. He waited a minute, unsure of what would happen, but then Pilot reached out. “Thank you.”
“Tate. I love you. I care about Bryce. I ran into him earlier today at the track. He just, I hugged him and...just damn, he's so fucking cute.”
“He is isn't he?” Tate tilted his face up and Pilot kissed his forehead and then his lips.
“This is crazy. What are we doing?”
Tate stepped back away from Pilot, trying to find some balance. “I don't know. I—” He held up his hands. He didn't have the words. He had an idea of where this was going and what he wanted, but he didn't know what Pilot thought about it and he was afraid of saying it out loud.
Pilot slid his hand down Tate’s arm and laced their fingers together. “This is the strangest thing that's ever happened to me.”
“What?” Tate wanted Pilot to tell him what he wanted to hear. He wanted Pilot to fix it—make this thing growing between them right.
“I love you, Tate. I'd probably do anything you asked me to.” His eyebrows dipped over his dark eyes.
If Tate had to describe Pilot, he wouldn't necessarily start at his face. He was sexy enough with brown hair and dark, bedroom eyes and a nice symmetrical face. Attractive, hell yes. But he wouldn’t necessarily stand out in a crowd, not like Bryce's lightning blue eyes and freckled cheeks and nose.
It was Pilot's body that made him really stand out.
Tall and muscular and built like a god, like Thor without the long blond hair.
Beyond all of that though, Pilot had a good heart and Tate couldn't help hoping that it was big enough for both him and Bryce.
He needed to hear Pilot say it, but the thought of asking such a thing had him sweating. “What do you, uh? What?”
“Don't look at me like that, Tate.”
“Like what?”
“With those big eyes. Shut your mouth. You know what I'm saying.”
Tate dropped his head, faking interest in the top of his sneaker. He was happy he'd stashed clothes in the pit or he'd be standing there in his race boots or barefoot.
“Tate?”
“I don't know.” He hesitated, afraid to take that last leap. “It's just that it'd be a hard choice to make. If Bryce were, you know, more. Then, I wouldn't want to pick.”
“Between us?”
“Yeah.”
Pilot's boots tapped the floor as he started walking. “Come on.”
Tate followed him into the waiting room. He had more to say and he needed to hear more from Pilot, but maybe it could wait a little longer. There were still a lot of people waiting on news.
Pilot stopped at the door and turned around fast, almost knocking Tate over.
Pilot grabbed him, pulling him close. His face was fierce with want and need.
“I don't understand this. I'm not going to pretend I do, but Tate. Thinking of the two of you. Together. With me.” His face softened as he spoke.
Tate felt Pilot's cock hardening against his leg, and his own dick responded in kind.
“Me, too.” Tate's words were breathy.
“Then, we're doing this?”
“What? Say it.”
“You want him in, with us, together. For more than sex.”
Tate stared into Pilot's dark eyes, seeing nothing but love. Reassured, he breathed out slowly. “Yes.” Because he knew for Pilot, there really couldn’t be anything just about sex. Not now.
“Okay. A relationship.”
“With all three of us.”
“Can we do it?”
Pilot finally let Tate go, but he wasn't sure that he wanted to leave Pilot's strong arms. “It's up to him now. You know? If he wants it. I'm not pushing him into it. We can't.”
Pilot gave him a quick nod. “Agreed. Okay. Let's do this.” He pushed through the doors to the waiting room, to let everyone know about Bryce’s injury