25

Something was wrong. My subconscious sensed it before I opened my eyes. I lay still. What had woken me up?

Water was running in the bathroom.

Bloom. He was no longer next to me. After the whole debacle at the clubhouse, he'd refused to speak. When I put him to bed, he still hadn't said a word about what had gone down. I'd woken up several times during the night to him tossing and turning, groaning as if in pain, but each time I'd wrapped my arms around him and whispered into his ear until he settled back down and fell asleep. Worrying about Bloom and how the night's event might affect him didn't leave room for me to acknowledge someone was murdered before my eyes. Or that Bloom would have done it had I not stopped him. The other man's blood had been on him, and I—the man who had sworn to save lives—helped him to wash away the evidence of him hurting another person.

What was he doing in the bathroom? It sounded like he was taking a shower. At this time of night? I searched around the night table for my phone. It was just after three in the morning—definitely not the right time for a shower.

I clicked on the bedside lamp and tossed the comforter off me. I sat up and froze at the big wet spot in the center of the bed. Blood? No, the color was too yellow on the white fitted sheet. I touched it. Warm. The scent of ammonia hit my nostrils, and the air punched from out of my lungs.

The last time he'd thought he'd done something horrible while sleepwalking, he'd run away. What if he…? I jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom, my heart pounding.

Please let him be all right.

I yanked back the door so hard it was a wonder the glass didn't shatter. The showerhead spewed water onto Bloom, who was huddled in the corner. He scrubbed at his skin furiously, his fingers leaving angry red marks where they scraped against his pale flesh. His eyes were wide and unseeing, and his lips muttered unintelligible words.

"Bloom." I stepped into the shower, heedless of my pajamas getting soaked, and yelped. The water was frigid, a biting cold that shot through me and stole my breath. How long had he been under the spray? I turned the knob, shutting off the water. He jerked up his head, but instead of coming toward me like he normally would, he shuffled back until his back hit the tiled wall. His eyes darted in a wild, panicked look, and his fingers flexed in and out of fists.

"Don't." He hung his head. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Hey, there's nothing to apologize for." I moved closer to him.

"No, don't touch me. I'm filthy. Your house—you—everything is so clean, and I'm not. I'm filthy. I peed the bed."

"Accidents happen. I am not mad at you."

"Of course you're mad. I'm dirty. Dirty—filthy." He shook his head hard. "It's November. It's November. I can't help it."

"Listen to my voice, baby. You're not dirty. You're not filthy." He flinched when I touched his shoulders. Goose bumps pebbled beneath my fingertips. The frantic words ceased from his lips but echoed in his wild eyes. He looked lost, adrift in a sea of shame and fear.

"You are not dirty," I repeated. "You are not filthy. You had an accident when you weren't conscious. Why would I be mad at you for that?"

"I wet the bed."

"Would it make you feel better if I peed in it too?"

He blinked, and the cloudy haze in his eyes seemed to lift. "Logan?"

"That's right. It's me."

I inched forward, careful not to startle him. His breathing was erratic, panic still in his eyes, but he didn't back away. I placed my arms gently around his trembling form and pulled him into a soft embrace. He stiffened, then slowly melted against me, his head resting on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize."

"I should go." Even as he said it, he clutched my shirt. "You'll never be able to sleep with me here, and now the bed's all wet."

"We can use the guest room. See? Nothing to worry about. Now let's get you out of the shower before you catch hypothermia."

I placed one of my robes into the towel warmer while I dried him off. I had him sit on the toilet so I could scrub his hair.

"You gave me a scare, you know that?" I kissed his forehead.

"I thought you'd be disgusted. I wanted to shower so you wouldn't notice, but then I realized I couldn't hide the wetness on the bed."

"The next time something like this happens, wake me up."

"But…work. You need sleep."

"I'll take the day off. I've never taken a personal day since I started working at that hospital. It shouldn't be a problem."

Bloom sighed and leaned into me. "A part of me feels pathetic for letting you see me like this so often—weak and helpless—and another part likes that I can be this way around you."

"I never want you to be anything but yourself around me. No matter what, I'll never judge you for it."

I kissed his forehead and retrieved the robe from the towel warmer. As I draped the robe on him and belted the waist, he made a sound of contentment. I led him out of the bathroom, his hand clenching mine tightly when we were in my room.

I walked him to the guest bedroom and settled him under the covers. I whispered sweet nothings, placing gentle kisses on his shoulder and neck until his breathing evened out. Only then did I quietly get out of bed. Working quickly, I stripped off the sheets from my bed and threw them into the washing machine. After setting the wash cycle, I returned to my room to take care of the mattress, blotting up as much urine as possible with a towel, then spraying a solution over the area. When I was finished, I washed my hands and returned to Bloom's side. I might not have anticipated the cleaning at this hour of the morning, but seeing him there, a vulnerable little figure cocooned in sheets and bathed in the soft light from the hallway, I knew it was worth it.

When I slipped in next to him, he stirred. "Logan?"

"Shh, go back to sleep."

He lay half on top of me, curling his legs around mine, tracing soothing circles on my chest with his fingers. "Why are you still awake?"

"Because someone is keeping me up," I said in a teasing voice.

"You can fuck me if that helps."

"Shh. All I need is you here just like this, and I'm fine."

"Just rest. Tomorrow we can go out and do something fun, but only if you go to sleep now."

He fell asleep a few minutes later with a small smile on his lips. My body relaxed gradually, his quiet breathing soothing my hurried mind.

#

When I woke up, the bed next to me was empty for the second time. Devoid of urine too, and I sighed in relief. He would have been devastated if he peed on the bed twice.

I got out of bed, used the bathroom, and went in search of him. I found him in the kitchen, eating pancakes—the kind he could warm up in the toaster—and drinking what looked like grape soda, which he'd pressured me to buy for him, even though I'd told him that carbonated beverages weren't good for him.

But I didn't scold him for drinking the acidic poison so early in the morning. He looked at peace as he ate while using my iPad. I cleared my throat, but he was so absorbed in what he was watching he didn't hear me. Smiling, I snuck up behind him but froze. Bloom was watching porn. The man on his knees was going to town, sucking the other man's dick. Bloom cocked his head. "It doesn't look so hard," he muttered.

Wait…what? Was he studying how to give a blow job? Damn. We'd had sex several times, but I was the one who always went down on him. Shit, I should've thought of that sooner.

Shaking off my surprise, I steeled myself and wrapped my arms around him. "Good morning, Bloom."

He didn't startle like I expected him to. In fact, he barely blinked. "Morning, Logan," he said absently, eyes fixed on the video.

"What are you doing?"

"Watching men give blow jobs. It's—" He jerked. "Oh!"

I smiled. Thank god he looked to be over what had happened last night, but I was beginning to realize he barely registered what happened when he was suffering through an episode. But what about what had happened before? Had he blocked that out too? Shouldn"t we talk about it, or would he shut down again?

"It's what?" I teased.

"It's fascinating."

I took the tablet from him and tapped the history tab. Fuck. He'd been watching porn for at least two hours. I turned the screen off. "Enough of that."

"But that one was the best one."

"You don't need a video to learn how to give a blow job. If you want to learn, I can teach you."

"I wanted to impress you, to be good at it before I tried it on you."

"You don't need to, and trust me, just the thought of your mouth on my cock, is enough to impress me." I kissed his lips. "Were you hungry? Are you only eating pancakes? You should have woken me up."

He gave a tiny shake of his head. "You deserved to sleep in after what happened."

Hmm, since he brought it up… "I understood about half of what transpired. Do you want to talk about it?"

"I was angry. He's always provoking everyone, but he went too far. Wish you'd have let me kill him."

"Bloom, killing someone isn't always the answer."

"We'll have to agree to disagree. You don't know what happened."

"Then tell me."

But he kept his mouth shut. He'd never hidden anything from me. At least, I didn't think so. Of course, when he did, it had to do with the club. I got the coffee machine going.

"Are you upset with me?"

"A little. You're not telling me something."

"That's because we didn't want anyone to know, but that damn Tango had to open his mouth."

"You remember the first time I came here and I left the next morning and disappeared for a week?"

"Yeah." I leaned back against the counter, munching on a banana.

"Saint came to pick me up that day, and we went looking for Winter. We found him, and he didn't look good. I'd seen him strung out before but never like that."

"What happened?"

"I was arrested for killing someone."

"What? You're wanted?"

"Not anymore."

"But you just said you killed someone."

"When you have dirt on people, you can make anything happen."

Of course. How could I have forgotten how this system worked? Ten years out of the game and I had gotten too comfortable.

"Why did you kill the guy?"

"Winter was unconscious. That man hadn't just given him laced coke. He'd fucked Winter while he'd OD'd. There's no excuse for that, so I broke his fucking face with my knife." He raised his chin in defiance as if daring me to criticize him, but we all had a past. We were all going to the same hell anyway. Why be sanctimonious now?

"I see."

The chair scraped on the floor as Bloom got to his feet and walked over to me. "So you hate me now? Between almost killing someone in front of you and wetting your bed, I can't even say I blame you."

Frowning, I cupped his face. "What are you talking about? I could never hate you." I settled my lips over his, reassuring him.

I'd already made my peace with what he was, and acknowledging it felt damn good.