Page 5 of Bloom: Part 1

“Umm, he is taking a nap. Is it urgent? I can wake him, but I’d rather not. We kind of, uh, had a late night, and well, he’s extremely tired.”

Gerald’s face flushed. I had to put effort into not pulling a disgusted face. Knowing Bay, he’d gone on a fuck fest with Gerald last night. My guess was confirmed when Gerald rubbed a bright red hickey on his neck.

“That’s fine. I’ll call him later. Tell him I popped by, yeah?”

“I will. I’m sorry you didn’t get to see him.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. Didn’t really want to see his ugly mug anyway. Crowe sent me.”

I was lying through my teeth, but I didn’t want him to think I was some kind of sap. Lately, Bay had gotten involved in Gerald’s mess that put his life at risk. I wanted to know what I could do to help. The four men who helped raise me were all I had, and I didn’t want to lose any of them.

But you’re losing them anyway.

Gritting my teeth at the intrusive voice, I hopped onto my bike and rode away. Even the neighborhood Gerald lived in was much nicer than most of Smoky Vale. Big iron gates or fences lined the properties. The lawns were well kept, and several yards boasted flower beds. Two-story houses—some even three—took up most of the street. I sped down the road, wanting to get away from the beautiful houses. The perfect atmosphere was too pretentious and suffocating.

I pushed the speed limit, letting the thoughts of Bay and Gerald slip from my mind. With the wind blowing through my hair, the roar of the motorcycle beneath me, everything felt real again. This was the life I understood, the life I recognized—raw, wild, fearless, and bound by brotherhood.

The adrenaline rush was intoxicating, which curbed my taste for liquor. Crowe didn’t allow me to drink. Not that that ever stopped me from sneaking off to a bar where they didn’t care about age limits. Still, I preferred riding across the open roads, feeling the grit of the city under my wheels.

Too soon, I rode onto the Blood Hounds compound. Crowe’s bike was here! I got off my motorcycle and rushed into the clubhouse, my boots thudding on the wooden floor. The mess hall echoed with the rowdy voices of Blood Hounds chatting and drinking.

I scanned the room, but Crowe wasn’t there. Saint was at the bar with his theyfriend, Dove, flicking their nipples through the transparent crop top they had on. I rolled my eyes and ran up to the bar.

“Hey, where’s Crowe at?”

He glanced at me for a brief second, then returned his attention to Dove. “Think he went to his room.”

“Oh, thanks.” I set off with long strides.

“I wouldn’t disturb him if I were you. Give him a few minutes.”

“Why?”

But I didn’t wait for him to answer. Bursting with impatience at the good news I had to share, I strode to Crowe’s bedroom. Ever since I arrived in Smoky Vale, he’d been hounding me to see a therapist, and I’d finally made up my mind. Saint’s mother had gotten a recommendation from a colleague of hers about a psychiatrist who worked at the hospital. Crowe would be relieved I’d finally chosen someone.

I twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open.

“Fuck me, Crowe. Oh god, fuck my slutty hole.”

So caught up in what they were doing, neither Crowe nor Max heard me enter. The whole damn bed was rocking, Max’s legs were up to Crowe’s shoulders, and Crowe was pounding away like a man possessed. His slick, tattooed back glistened as hedrove into Max with such force Max cried out. He raked a hand down Crowe’s back, leaving red, angry welts in its stead.

I stepped back outside and yanked the door shut with a thud. Fuck. They’d know someone had seen them. Not that it was the first time I was seeing Crowe fuck someone, but something weird happened inside me. I didn’t like these tingles at all. They felt strange and unlike anything I’d ever felt.

When the door didn’t open, I frowned. Did they seriously not hear me leave? I pressed my ear to the door, which amplified the grunts and moans. Was this all Crowe cared about now? Getting off in Max’s ass? I thought he would want to know about me seeing a new therapist.

At least I could tell Saint. I retraced my steps to the mess hall, back to Saint and Dove.

“Got a minute?” I sat on a bar stool.

Saint tore his eyes away from Dove. “Actually, we were just getting out of here, but I’ll be back later tonight. We can talk then.”

“I don’t mind waiting if you two need to talk,” Dove said.

“Nah, it’s Bloom. It’ll be about head stuff. He doesn’t have much else going on. Doesn’t really have a life outside of all that, do you, sport?”

His words stung like someone had poked a knife in my gut. He compounded it by rubbing my head like I was still that damn little kid he and Crowe had raised. Was that how they all saw me? Just a headcase without a life? Just a kid who had nothing going on?

Dove and Saint got up, leaving me alone at the bar. My vision grew red, and my heart beat wildly as panic set in.

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