1

How rude!

If you sent a guy a nude picture, the least he could do was respond with a thank-you, right? From the blue ticks, Dr. Collier had read my message—messages. Unsure which was my good side, I'd taken several shots from different angles—draped on the bed, against the wall. Hell, I'd even been on all fours on the cold floor buck naked. He could have at least given me credit for that one. Did he know the contortion that went into arching my back and still getting that perfect shot?

But nothing.

Because I couldn't decide which one of the pics to send him, I'd sent them all. Eight photos in total of me wearing nothing but my tattoos and piercings.

I tossed the phone onto the bed and picked up my "Solitude Suits Me" long-sleeve oversized black shirt. I wasn't used to taking pictures of myself. None of the bikers did that sort of thing, and they'd raised me. But I'd seen their boys sending them provocative photos, so I'd figured men must like that type of stuff. In the one I'd glimpsed on Crowe's phone, Max had only been wearing the expensive faux fur Crowe had bought him for his last birthday.

Did Dr. Collier like fur? Maybe I should try that one next.

I huffed a breath and stepped into my black cargo pants. How could he not like any of my photos? The whole thing had started as gross. I thought maybe he'd liked them, and he would see what I had to offer, but he'd ignored them. Again. Damn that man.

Fuck, I wanted him to like my photos.

All the other boys got thousands of likes when they posted their pictures on their social media pages. Jamie had started a new page of himself as the poster boy for sexy doctors. Aside from the few nasty comments that had stopped as soon as he posted a picture of himself next to Grimm, everyone loved him. What was wrong with me that I couldn't get one man to appreciate my photos?

Maybe he'd seen the scars through my tattoos and thought they were gross. My stomach flipped. I'd followed him around, and he didn't strike me as someone shallow, but maybe he was. He was so secretive I knew very little about him. I sat heavily on the bed and woke up my phone. Still no response from him. I narrowed my eyes against the pricking of tears.

Tears were for wimps, and life had beaten all the wimp out of me by the time I was ten or eleven or twelve. Nobody really knew how old I was.

One by one, I swiped through the photos I'd sent to Dr. Collier. I pinched the middle and expanded them. The scars weren't visible so that theory flew right out the window. My heartbeat quickened. He'd rejected me over and over. I'd always believed he turned me down because he thought I belonged in a mental institution, which wasn't that bad, considering it was probably true.

But maybe…he genuinely didn't like me. Maybe he thought I was…ugly.

Heat flushed through me, and I stabbed my finger against the Block button. Just as quickly, I tapped the icon to unblock him. Who was I kidding? I couldn't block him. From the first moment I saw him, I'd decided he was the one. I wasn't sure yet what all that meant, but I didn't want to hurt him like I did most people. Anyone who spoke to me the way he had would have been missing a limb already, but his scowl, his rolling eyes, the clenching of his jaw meant he noticed me. And he was good looking, which I'd never realized about a man.

"Ugh." I sat up on the bed and shoved my feet into my mid-calf-length black boots with the chunky raised soles. Straps, buckles, and lace formed details that prevented the boots from being ordinary. I tightened each one, my mind still full of thoughts on Dr. Collier.

It was almost November.

I'm running out of time.

I slipped on my leather biker jacket, then my black leather gloves with the silver studs and spikes—my recent find in a thrift shop that had become my favorite place to buy clothes in Smoky Vale. Since my makeup was still flawless, I finger-combed my hair and walked out of my room. I secured the padlock on the door. Yup, I took my motherfucking privacy seriously, and I didn't trust these bikers. Those I grew up with knew not to fuck with my stuff, but we were mingling with the Smoky Vale chapter now. They were notorious for doing stupid shit. Since I'd promised Crowe to behave, I didn't want to have to gut one of them and start an internal war.

In the mess hall, I made a beeline for Saint, who was drinking with Gunner, though neither was talking. I glanced around for the ex-cop, Gunner's husband, but he was nowhere to be found. Strange. Since he left the force, he'd practically glued himself to Gunner's backside. Or maybe it was the other way around.

"Hey." I slapped a hand on the counter and leaned in to Saint. "I need your opinion on something."

"No, you can't kidnap the doctor," he said, his tone flat. "Crowe won't allow it, so get it out of your head."

Gunner snorted and guzzled down his beer.

I grinned. My brothers knew me so well. "I'm saving that for our first date." I opened my phone, found the message chat with Dr. Collier, and shoved the phone into Saint's hand. "Look at those pics and tell me what's wrong with them."

"What pics?" Frowning, Saint took a gulp of his beer and looked at the phone. He let out a choking sound and spewed beer from his nostrils and mouth onto the counter.

Fuck. They were that bad?

"The fuck, man?" Gunner grunted, picking up a rag and throwing it over the mess. "Clean that shit up." He rose to his feet and walked away, scowling.

"What's up with him?" I asked. "Where's the cop?"

"Hanging out with Jasper and the baby," Saint wheezed. He brought the phone closer to his face and scrolled through the photos. "Damn, Bloom, I didn't know you were this photogenic."

"They're good, then?" The way he was staring intently at each photo, I couldn't tell how he felt about them.

"Fuck, yes."

"Then why the hell doesn't he respond?" I propped my elbows on the counter and gave an exasperated sigh. "He made me think I was ugly."

"You ugly? Are you kidding me?"

"I'm not?"

"Trust me, if you were ugly, Max wouldn't have been jealous that first day you met."

"Okay." I nodded, pleased. "So I'm average looking. Why doesn't he notice me?"

"Average…" Saint shook his head. "There's nothing average about you, Bloom. I mean, damn. How did you get your back to arch like that without snapping your spine in half?"

I frowned. He was staring at those pictures just a little too long. "You've seen me naked before."

"But not when you're trying to be sexy. The tattoos and the goth look… All of it just works."

"What works?" Crowe popped up over Saint's shoulder. His jaw hardened, and he snatched my phone from Saint's hand. "What the hell is this?" My face went hot, and I stepped back. "Don't you dare move another muscle, Bloom."

"I did nothing wrong!"

"No? Didn't I tell you not to send any more dick pics to the doctor?"

I shrugged. "Technically, they're not meant to be dick pics. My whole body's showing."

Crowe's nostrils flared, and his chest expanded from his sharp inhale. He let out the breath slowly. "You can't just send unsolicited naked pictures to people." He slapped Saint upside the head. "And you should know better than to encourage him. What do you think you're here for? You know he's no good at social cues."

Saint rubbed his head. "I wasn't encouraging him. His therapist says he has low self-esteem. I was just trying to boost his confidence, that's all."

"Confidence, my foot." Crowe shoved the phone back at me. "If you send him more naked pictures, Bloom, I'll take the phone away from you."

I squared my shoulders and glared while tucking the phone into one of my many pockets out of his reach. "You can't do that to me anymore. I'm all grown up now."

This wasn't like that time when I was sixteen and had sent death threats to another biker's son for making fun of me being mute. Crowe had taken my phone away and had me placed under involuntary treatment until they deemed me safe to be around others. The biker and his son had moved away before I was out.

"You know your development is years behind, so don't give me that," he said.

"You're still being hypocritical. Max sends you naked pictures all the time."

Crowe swiped a hand down his face. "You're missing one crucial piece of information, Bloom. Max is mine."

"And Dr. Collier is mine." I puffed my chest out and raised my chin. Would I have gone to this great length if I hadn't already claimed him?

"What he's trying to say—"

"Don't tell him what I'm trying to say," Crowe snapped, eyes flashing daggers at Saint. "You weren't helping earlier, so don't try to be a parent now."

"I just looked," Saint grumbled and rose to his feet. "It's hardly that serious. Like it or not, Crowe, he ain't the little boy we found years ago. He's all grown up, and frankly, he can fuck the doc if he wants. Without your permission."

I watched Saint leave, grateful for his input. No one who knew Crowe would have guessed how strict he was with me. He wouldn't even let me have my own apartment. I'd asked. Sometimes he was so stern I wanted to run away. The one time I had, he'd turned Riverton upside down until he found me. Those three days had been the longest days of my life. I wouldn't tell him this, but I'd been relieved when he brought me back home. Being on my own had been scary. But Saint was right. I was different. I deserved to have somebody special the way they did.

"He's right, you know. I'm not the same boy, Crowe. You don't have to act like a father all the time. Sometimes you can act like a brother too."

"Maybe I am coming off a little too strong, but I'm worried about you." He ran a hand through his hair, and a twinge of guilt stabbed me over how much he'd had to put up with me for eight years. "You want to know why it's okay for Max to send me naked pictures? He's my boyfriend, Bloom. We are in a consensual relationship where that's okay. You don't have that with Dr. Collier. Didn't he ban you from the hospital? What more do you need him to do for you to understand he doesn't feel the same way you do about him?"

I sucked in a deep breath and clenched a fist over my aching chest. "You don't know that."

"It's been weeks. Has he ever given you any sign he's interested in you?"

"Of course. He…" I chewed my bottom lip, searching for a memory that could prove to him that despite Dr. Collier pushing me away, he wanted me too. "I just know, okay?"

Crowe crossed his arms. "What did your shrink say when you told him about it?"

I hung my head and focused on the shiny buckles on my boots.

"Bloom. You have been going to your therapy appointments, haven't you?"

"Yes," I whispered. Sometimes I skipped them, but I went most times.

"Bloom."

"What?" I snapped my head up. "I have been going, but I don't like him, so I haven't told him anything about the doctor."

"Well, isn't that convenient?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Why do you suddenly have an issue with a therapist? You have been going to them for years. It's just an excuse so you can hold back on things you should tell him."

"Why would I tell him anything? I already know what he's going to say. That I'm not ready for a relationship."

"Exactly."

"But he's wrong. You're wrong. I'll show you."

I straightened my spine, but before I could take a step, Crowe grabbed my arm. His hand, though firm, gentled the second I turned back to face him, and he instantly released me. He knew what being restrained did to me.

"Bloom, I say this because I've seen how far you've come, not to hurt you. You know your capacity to love and be with someone is linked to your attachment disorder. You're still working through this in therapy. You can't afford to get attached to someone who won't reciprocate. It won't end well."

His words reminded me of the new therapist I'd been seeing since my relocation to Smoky Vale. When I brought up the idea of a relationship, Dr. Simms had shot me down and told me I had a long way to go before I could have a healthy relationship. Was it so bad to have a relationship without the healthy part? Crowe stalked Max. Was that healthy? Nope, but they did it anyway, and I saw how they loved each other. Ben and Gunner had literally pulled guns on each other. More than once. Shitty, abusive past aside, chances were with role models like them, I would still be the same fucked-up guy I was anyway.

"I have to go." Fuck him for scolding me. It was on the tip of my tongue to remind him he wasn't my father, but he was more of a father to me than anyone else. He'd cared for me when I was at my lowest, refusing to believe I would never be normal.

On second thought, I threw my arms around Crowe and hugged him. I didn't want to be ungrateful for all he'd done for me. He and I alone knew the extent of how far I'd come. "Thank you for everything you've done for me, Crowe, but you can't protect me from everything. You taught me how to survive, remember? Now, please let me live."

The mess hall had gone quiet. I looked over Crowe's shoulder. The bikers were staring at us with bewildered and uncomfortable expressions on their faces, as if they'd never seen two men hug. Maybe not. They were the type to fuck a man but not hug him.

Dr. Collier wouldn't be like that. I just knew it. My shrink would have told me I was projecting expectations on him, but I didn't care.

"The fuck you looking at?" I asked.

The tension eased from Crowe, and he chuckled. "Leave 'em alone. They don't need to understand this. Just as long as you know I'm here if you need anything."

"I know."

"And if you have questions, come to me, not to Saint. Not even Bay. Those assholes take everything for a fucking joke."

But sometimes that was what I needed. They balanced Crowe's role. "All right. Now I really have to go, or I'll miss my therapy session. You wouldn't want that, would you?"

"You're nothing but trouble, you know that?"

I grinned, loving the warmth in his voice as I walked away. Off to my therapy appointment, where I might just conveniently run into the doctor.