5

Fifteen minutes after Logan left, I was bored out of my mind. How long was I supposed to wait on him? If I went away and returned before he came back, he would never know. But as I laid my hand on the doorknob, guilt overcame me, and I plopped onto the couch again. I couldn't be dishonest. Not to him. I'd promised to not leave his office, so barring a fire, I had to keep my word and stay put. No matter how much the walls felt as though they were closing in on me.

The door remained my escape route, taunting me with the promise of freedom. I sighed heavily. I needed a distraction, something to take my mind off how trapped I felt.

Obeying Logan reminded me of memories best left buried.

I sat at his desk and tried to snoop on his computer, but he had it password protected. Damn. I would have loved to dig into his emails and files to learn more about the man I wanted to be mine. He made it so difficult to get to know him.

The desk was filled with junk—not really. They were important files, but they meant nothing to me, so garbage. I shoved them aside, and something fell to the floor. I picked it up. A well-worn leather-bound journal with a clasp closure. My heart skipped a beat. Bingo. What secrets was he keeping in this book?

Only a few pages in and I slumped my shoulders. Dense, technical descriptions, and medical jargon filled the pages. He kept a detailed log of his routine, making notes on medical conditions, patients, and daily occurrences at the hospital. I would find nothing personal about him inside this book. I thumbed through the pages, and… I straightened up and slowly went back a few pages.

In his neat, bold handwriting was my name printed. Bloom. My heart thudded, and blood rushed to my head. I clamped my eyes shut, counted to five, and peeked at the page again. My name was still there. Logan had written my name in his book, a book he took up every single day. Sure, the rest of the page was blank. He could have written my name in frustration or with fondness, but I gave not one fuck about it.

All that mattered was that my name was there.

The air seemed to vanish as I held my breath and traced my name with a trembling finger. It felt intimate to touch the exact place where he had. I closed my eyes and imagined him sitting at his desk, pen gripped between his skillful fingers, writing my name with the same deliberate precision with which he performed his surgeries. The same focus and intensity directed at me, at my name.

The imagery was more intoxicating than the tequila I'd drunk in Crowe's boat. I carefully put the book right where I'd found it. No, I wanted him to know I'd seen it. Grinning, I scribbled on a sticky note, stuck it on the page where he'd written my name, and gently closed the journal. I hugged it to my chest and replaced it.

Feeling more lively than I had earlier, I yanked open the top drawer of his desk. What else was he hiding from me? A bottle of Tylenol, toilet paper, hand sanitizer, wipes, and a box of Band-Aids. Typical doctor stuff.

I shook the Tylenol, the pills rattling like tiny pebbles in a jar. I put the bottle back, closed the drawer, and opened the next one.

This drawer held more junk from the hospital, but a novel with dog-eared pages was tucked away in the corner. The cover featured a desolate cityscape with towering skyscrapers half submerged in water. Logan liked these kinds of books? Hmm. From the worn pages and smudges, he must have read it a few times. He also tabbed some of the pages with yellow, green, and red.

I flipped the cover and squinted at the text written in a hasty crawl, the letters jumbling before my eyes like a cryptic code. Each word seemed to twist and warp, a frustrating dance of shapes that refused to stay still. I shut my eyes tight and rubbed the bridge of my nose.

Concentrate.

I opened my eyes and carefully deciphered the words.

Thanks for loving me the way you have over all these years. I owe everything I am to you.

My blood boiled, but then I read the names below the message.

To Christian

Love, Axel

Hell's balls! For a second, I'd thought I would have to kill every Axel I came across, but the book wasn't even Logan's. I grinned. He'd probably think I should increase my visits to my shrink if he knew a little note almost sent me over the edge. Good thing he would never know.

I put down the book and rifled through the bottom drawer. A half-empty box of Nature Valley snacks and an old stethoscope with its rubber tubing cracked were the only items in the drawer. I pushed my hand inside the box and hit something that crinkled like plastic. I pulled it out and almost passed out. I forgot how to exhale.

He'd kept them. He had acted as if he hated everything I'd sent him. Hell, he'd even called them juvenile, but he'd kept them.

With a shaky hand, I opened the Ziploc bag and carefully took out the handwritten notes I felt embarrassed about now that I knew what his handwriting was like. The lock of my hair I'd cut off, the jumbo plastic ring I'd sent him as a promise ring, and the naked photo.

If I didn't like someone, I wouldn't keep their gifts. No one did that, right? Which meant…did Logan like me back? Was it not a figment of my imagination, but did he really like me? He had rushed over to patch me up when he found out I was hurt.

I rocked back in his chair with a grin so wide my face was in danger of being split in two. This was even better than I'd hoped for. I clutched the photograph to my chest, a mix of emotions surging within me.

He likes me.

He likes me.

I replaced everything the way I'd found it, then lay on the couch with my boots propped up on the armrest and waited for Logan to return. Time passed without him returning. I stared at the ceiling, tracing the intricate patterns with my eyes.

My phone rang, but when Crowe's name popped up on the screen, I ignored it. He left me a voicemail. I braced myself for his angry tirade as I played the message.

"Dammit, Bloom, where are you?" I felt slightly guilty for the worry in his tone. But not guilty enough to leave the office.

"Your shrink called to say you've been skipping your therapy sessions. You remember what happened the last time you stopped going? We're not in Riverton anymore, where we have contacts, Bloom. We can't cover for your ass if you go off on someone. Call me when you get this, and for fuck's sakes, kid, just leave the doctor alone. He's not worth it."

Except Crowe didn't get to decide who was worth it to me. I turned off my phone and tossed it onto the coffee table, my mind spinning, but one thing remained clear. Logan liked me back. He had kept all those little things I'd given him, even while he'd complained and dismissed me.

My stomach growled, a reminder I'd skipped lunch. A bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch was all I had for breakfast. How much longer would Logan be? He'd already been gone for over an hour.

A knock sounded on the door, and I jerked up to a sitting position. The door opened, and Jamie walked in. He looked so different from when he was at the clubhouse—more serious in his tailored pants and dress shirt underneath a white lab coat. His makeup was also minimal and warm. My skin tingled, and I had the strong urge to leave the room. Jamie reminded me of everything I wasn't. He was smart, confident, sexy, and fun. All the boys liked him. All the boys wanted to hang out with him. All the boys wanted to be him.

While I still needed therapy to figure out who I was. I was starting to fit into my goth skin, to accept the monster no one wanted. I wanted Logan to want me. Was that so difficult for them all to understand?

"There you are!" He flashed his perfect white teeth in a dazzling smile. Sometimes I wanted to carve two lines in his face with my knife just to make him a little imperfect. But I didn't. Of course that would be wrong. And they thought I had no self-restraint.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"Dr. Collier sent me." He glanced around the office as if looking for someone else. "Have you been here long? Aren't you bored?"

"Logan said I should stay here."

"Logan? Hmm. I bet that made your day, huh?" He crossed his arms and grinned. Why did he look like he knew some of my dirty secrets?

"Something like that, though it's none of your business."

"You're a part of the club family, so of course it's my business. Wouldn't you like my help?"

"What do you mean?"

"Considering I'm the closest person to Dr. Collier—" Jamie took a step back when I rose to my feet. "Bloom, I mean that platonically. I'm with Grimm. I have no interest in the doctor. Frankly, I don't even know why you are interested in him. Dr. Collier isn't an easy man to get close to."

"I just am. Did you need a reason to like Grimm?"

"Well, I've always had the hots for Grimm. He's protective and sweet."

I snorted. "Sweet?"

"Yes, sweet to me."

"Then maybe Dr. Collier will be sweet to only me." I liked the thought of that. I liked that very much.

"Maybe, but I must warn you to keep your expectations low. Dr. Collier doesn't do personal relationships."

"How do you know that?"

"I'm his protégé. Take a look at his office, for example. Do you know he's had this office for several years?"

"So what?"

"There's nothing personal here. That's Dr. Collier in a nutshell. He keeps everyone at a distance, although I admit he seems…more tolerant of you than he usually is of most people."

"He is?" The good news kept coming.

Jamie nodded. "You really like him? You're not playing games with him?"

"I only play with my victims."

"Is he?"

"Is he what?"

"Is Dr. Collier going to wind up one of your victims?"

I licked my lips. "Depends."

"You can't hurt him, Bloom." This time when I stepped closer to him, Jamie didn't budge. He had balls. I had to give him that. "Don't try to intimidate me. I know you won't hurt me."

"How can you be so sure?" I circled him like a predator. My fingers twitched with the unfamiliar sensation of restraint. Jamie was a part of the club family, off-limits. The rules were clear, but rules weren't something I was particularly fond of.

"Because if you hurt me, you'll start a war between the two clubs. Wouldn't that be stupid, given how close the two clubs are now? Would you want to cause the death of your brothers?"

"Maybe your brothers would be the ones dead."

"You're not na?ve, Bloom. You're on our turf. Don't be too cocky. You're not so different from the rest of us boys, you know. Why won't you hang out with us?"

"I don't like you."

That shut him up. Technically, it wasn't true. He made me uncomfortably aware of how little control I had over my life. I was a failure at everything except killing. A psychiatrist had to help me to regulate my emotions. Who wanted to hang out with someone whose presence was a constant reminder of that?

"You've never even tried to get to know me," he said softly.

"I don't need to. I have all the brothers I need."

"You know friendships and family don't need to be finite, right? You can have as many or as few people in your circle as you want."

"What makes you think you belong in my circle? You're just another Reaper bitch like all the boys, aren't you?"

Jamie's eyes flashed with anger. "Listen here, Bloom. Call me what you want, but you don't talk shit about my friends. They're loyal and hold down their men. You don't get to look down on us because you're a patched member and we aren't."

Unless someone specifically likes that, you don't call someone a bitch because they bottom.

The twin brother's words echoed in my head. Fuck. I pinched my lips. I hated apologizing. "Sorry," I mumbled. He would tell me where to shove my apology, and of course when he did, I had to respond in kind, and it would be another argument all over again.

"Just don't make us to be lesser than our men. We do for them so they can do what needs to be done."

"Whatever."

Jamie sighed. "I won't take what you said to heart because I know you've been through a lot, and things might be a bit murky for you, but it doesn't change the fact that if you want to talk—"

"I got a shrink for that."

"—I'm still here. And yes, I do think Dr. Collier has some feelings for you, but that doesn't mean he'll act on them." Jamie walked toward the door. "If you decide you need help, the offer still stands. I know him better than anyone, though that's not to say much."

"Didn't you say he sent you here?"

Jamie slapped his forehead. "Oh, right. He wanted me to tell you that he's going to be tied up in a surgery that will last several hours. You should go home."

A lump formed in my throat. Was he really busy or avoiding me?

"He really is in surgery, Bloom."

I scowled. "Get out of my head, will you?"

That annoying grin was back. "Told you I could help. Call me if you need anything else."

He disappeared through the door, leaving me alone inside the sterile office with thoughts jumbling around in my head. I smacked my hand against my temple several times to calm things down. I should go. What was the use of staying here?