Page 15 of Viking Ink

Cullen huffed, crossing his arms across his broad chest. “So, are you here just to torment a frustrated man, or do you need something?” He cocked his head as he spoke, looking at Rhys. “Don’t bother answering. I can see for myself this young man has been in the wars. You’re Rhys who plays the guitar in the square, correct?”

“Yes, Sir.” Rhys answered nervously, catching my eye. I winked, letting him know all was good.

Cullen smiled. “A much politer man than this reprobate.” He pointed at me, and I shrugged. I was polite when I had to be. “Come into the consulting room, and let me get a look at those bruises.”

Rhys gave a nervous smile. “Is it okay if Simon comes in with me?” He reached out and grabbed hold of my hand, and for a moment I was dumbstruck, feeling the warmth of his smaller palm in mine.

Doc gave us a brief smile. “I don’t see any problem with that.”

I led Rhys into the room, taking a seat in one of the chairs in front of Doc’s cluttered desk. Rhys still clutched my hand like a lifeline, and I gave his a reassuring squeeze in return.

Cullen’s consulting rooms were unlike most. Instead of a cold, clinical feel, the room emanated warmth. A small basket of toys sat to one side for his youngest patients, and a hand painted ceramic jar full of lollipops took up space on his desk.

“Alright, Rhys. Now, I can see you have taken a beating, and it looks recent.” Doc looked over the top of his dark rimmed glasses at me. “I’m sure there is a reason you haven’t gone to the hospital.”

Rhys gripped my hand tighter. “Simon wanted to, but I convinced him I’d be okay.”

I shrugged. “He has his reasons, and I respect them.”

“That’s good enough for me. I’m not going to try to convince you, not when you have your mind made up. But you are going to let me give you a good look over.” Doc fixed Rhys with a stern look. “Non-negotiable.”

Rhys gave a nervous nod.

“Good lad. I can see your face has taken a nasty thump or two. Any other injuries?” Doc motioned Rhys to go sit on the exam table.

Rhys took a shaky breath before answering. “I think my ribs got hurt. They ache when I move, and my side is a bit tender.”

“All right, let’s get a look. Shirt off, and hop up on the table.” Doc pushed a low step stool against the leg of the exam table. “Use that. No jumping up.”

“It’s okay, Rhys. Doc’s growl is worse than his bite. He’s a great doc when he’s not being annoyed by people, or technology that’s not from the 70s,” I said, which earned a weak smile from Rhys.

“Hush, or you can go sit in the waiting room.” Doc flashed a smile at Rhys. “I swear, he’s a giant toddler sometimes. Maybe I should let him sit with the toys to keep him quiet.”

At my affronted face, Rhys laughed. It was a sweet sound, and Doc’s gruff but kind manner seemed to settle Rhys.

“You do realise you’re only a few years older than me, right?”

Doc let out a huff. “Physically, yes. Mentally?” He gave a hand waggle, then focused his attention back on Rhys.

Rhys slowly lifted his sweatshirt and tee. In the stark light of the exam room, his frail frame was noticeable. In my mind I started planning meals that would put some healthy weight on him. Maybe I could get Doc’s advice on vitamins and such. I told myself that this wasn’t me trying to be an overbearing Daddy for a man who wasn’t my boy, no. I was just a friend who cared about Rhys’s wellbeing. Simple.

Even to me, the lie sounded hollow.

I ran a hand through my beard —what the hell was I doing? I caught Rhys looking at me, worried. I smiled, and that seemed to smooth the lad’s frown.

I watched as Doc lifted Rhys’s chin and tipped his head back, doing all the doctoring things, his expression detached and clinical—until he looked at Rhys’s back, and the professional mask dropped for a moment. He’d seen the same thing I had, the scars that crossed Rhys’s narrow back. For a moment, Doc’s eyes held rage at what had been done to Rhys.

The raised scars had made me want to cry when I’d seen them, evidence of acts of cruelty that had no doubt caused Rhys so much pain. Some looked years old, but others were fresher, as if only a few months had passed. It made it clear to me why Rhys looked so haunted and worried.

Doc’s clinical demeanour slipped back on as he gently poked and pressed Rhys’s ribs and side, making those mmm and ahh sounds he always did. Rhys sat still, occasionally looking at me for reassurance.

“Well, lad, you are going to be one sore man for a few days, but I don’t think anything is broken. But I do want you to take it easy for a bit. No strenuous lifting or moving.” Doc looked over at me, his eyes narrowed. “If he isn’t already, I would like it if Rhys stayed with you. You did a good job patching him up, but I would feel better knowing he had someone watching out for him the next few days. Concussions and such can be tricky bastards.”

Rhys stifled a laugh at the descriptive word choice. I’d forgotten to warn the poor man that the doc had been known to have a colourful turn of phrase.

“No fear, Doc. Rhys has agreed to stay on with me. I might even get him helping out at the shop, working the desk. A pretty face is just what the place needs,” I said with a grin, enjoying the pink that Rhys’s cheeks went.

Doc gave Rhys a thoughtful look. “Do you know how to run a computer, ?”

---