Page 13 of Bloom: Part 1

“He touched me.” I glared at the guard, who clenched his teeth. “Don’t you know who I am, motherfucker? Your worst nightmare. Don’t ever put your hand on me, or you’ll lose it.”

“He’s new.” Bay lowered his head to mine. “We can’t cause an incident here and ruin this business, Bloom. I’ve worked too hard at getting this place up to par.”

Fuck. It wasn’t so much that I cared about the casino, but he was right. His working at the casino allowed him to be a more responsible father rather than doling out punishments.

I let go of the security guy’s arm. No wonder I hadn’t noticed him if he was a recently patched member. I’d been so busy chasing after Dr. Collier that I’d missed countless meetings.Crowe had threatened if I missed once more he would fine me. Joke’s on him, since he controlled my money anyway.

“Sorry about that, everyone,” Bay said loudly. “Just a misunderstanding. Please return to your games while I escort this young man out.”

Bay kept a few inches between us. On a normal day, he could touch me if he wanted, but tonight, I was high-strung and frustrated. It’d been over two months, and Dr. Collier was still giving me the cold shoulder.

“Bloom, what’s gotten into you?” he asked. “You’ve been acting out more lately.”

“Nothing.”

“It’s the doctor, isn’t it? He—”

“I don’t want to talk about him.” He wouldn’t say anything I hadn’t already heard from Crowe. To leave the doctor alone and concentrate on my therapy. I was fucking sick of therapy. Why did I have to get better before someone loved me? They all had partners. Couldn’t they see I wanted what they had?

Bay sighed. “If not me, then at least talk to Crowe or call Saint’s mother.”

“I’m already seeing a psychiatrist here. She approved him.”

“Is it working? He doesn’t seem to be doing a good job of helping you channel your anger.”

“I don’t have any anger.”

He raised a brow.

“Okay, maybe I have some anger, but it’s just been a bad day. We all have those.”

“Then go home. Have an early night. Should I call Crowe to pick you up?”

I scowled. “I’m not a baby. Don’t I have my bike?”

“Yeah, but—”

“I can ride, Bay. See ya!”

Once I was outside, I loped off toward where my motorcycle was parked. Crowe had gifted it to me when I was officially patched into the Blood Hounds. I ran my hand over the shiny polished metal, admiring the sleek curves of the bike. It was a black beast beneath the moonlight, so much bigger than me, but that was why I loved it.

I hopped on and, with a revving roar, rode out of the parking lot. I let it rip down the highway, the vibration of the engine reverberating through my bones. The wind whipped through my hair, sliced through my coat, and bit into my skin, but I didn’t mind. The dulled pain was nothing compared to the sharp ache of rejection. Rejected by everybody.

I can’t allow him to reject me too.

The highway was practically empty at this time of night, with only a few cars. It allowed me to weave through the lanes, streaking across the dark landscape with no concern. The road lines blurred beneath me, disappearing under my wheels and reappearing again.

By the time I pulled off to a gas station, I was feeling much better. And sheepish I’d ridden so carelessly without a helmet. If Crowe knew, he would scold me, probably ground me by taking my bike away like the last time I’d fallen off and given myself a concussion.

Well, it’s not like I’m going to tell him.

I pulled up to the pump, dismounted, and filled my tank. The cold metal of the nozzle bit into my hand, and the smell of gasoline filled my lungs. I inhaled deeply, savoring the familiar, sweet scent. The soft hum of the pump was almost like a lullaby, luring me into a state of calm.

A truck stopped parallel to me on the diesel pump. The driver, a medium-built man with a goatee, wearing a baseball cap, climbed out. He low-whistled at my bike. “Nice ride.”

I resisted the urge to shoot him the finger. I didn’t need his approval of my bike. See, I could be nice to people I didn’t care about. Even if it was hard.

I finished up at the pump and strolled into the convenience store. The fluorescent lights reflected starkly off the white linoleum flooring. A bored-looking cashier, a young woman who appeared a year or two older than me, perked up and smiled. I supposed she was pretty, with shiny blond curls, blue eyes, and a heart-shaped face. When she sat up, her breasts jiggled, and I barely managed not to pull a face. Eh, I was definitely not into women, and I’d known that for a long time. What was new was the hots I had for Dr. Collier. I’d never felt sexual desire for anyone, but the more time I spent around Dr. Collier, the more I wanted to know what it was like being fucked by a man like him.

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