I pull the door until it’s just cracked after getting Matty settled, then walk back into the living room. Bull is sitting on my couch and he’s so big, he makes my streamlined couch look small. He also looks really good sitting on it. Dang.

“Did you get him settled?”

“Yeah, he was completely worn out,” I tell him, standing in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do. It’s been such a good day, and I’ve really let my guard down with Bull, but now, I’m nervous.

“Come sit down, Doc,” Bull says, patting the couch beside him.

I take a breath and sit down. I worry about what to do when I get there. Do I sit on the edge and give us plenty of room, do I sit next to him? In the end, I don’t need to worry. The minute I sit down, Bull takes over. He pulls me so I’m lying against his side and we’re curled up. He has the television on and the volume turned down low, to an old black and white movie.

“You like old movies?” I ask him, watching the screen, but enjoying the way the heat from his body seeps into me.

“They’re okay. You don’t?”

“Honestly? Unless it’s Matty’s cartoons the television never comes on.”

“No television?”

“Nah. I like reading, or napping. Napping is always good.”

He flips the TV off and pulls me so I’m lying completely over top of him. His hand plays with my hair, relaxing me.

“I tell you what, Doc. You can nap on me anytime,” he says softly. I think if I let myself, I could drown in the dark pools of his eyes.

“Generous of you.”

“I thought so.” he laughs.

“I had a good time today, Bull.”

“I did too, Doc.”

“You’re different than I thought you would be.”

“Well given my track record you can’t have a good impression of me.”

“Umm…”

He smiles and gives me a squeeze. “It’s okay, Doc. I didn’t exactly leave a good impression with you. I would like to explain, if you want.”

“The pills?”

“That’s what worries you the most?”

“Yeah. I mean, I know addiction is something you can overcome, but you can also go back to it, and I have Matty…I don’t want you to get mad at me Bull. But…” I start, and then have to take a breath—I should have prepared myself. “I’d be lying if I said I’m comfortable about it.”

I’m afraid I’m hurting him, and I don’t want to. But somewhere over the last few times I’ve spent with Bull, I’ve decided to take a chance…or at least try. If I do, then there are things I need to be open and honest with him about.

“We’ve talked about the attack and the headaches. I was having trouble dealing with the pain and tremors, I had just lost a woman I…cared about, and I let her down…let my brothers down. Then, I lost someone I was in the service with. He wanted me to help him and I couldn’t, I chose my club because they needed me too. Hell, Doc the list just goes on…it was stupid. It all sounds like an excuse for someone who was weak. I don’t even know how or why it started. It just did. I can only promise you, I’m not that man now.”

“I’m sorry you went through all of that, Bull,” I whisper, letting my fingers brush along the side of his face. I can’t stop myself from placing a kiss on his chest, above his heart. He gives me another squeeze. Does he know that when he gets this look in his eyes it makes me want to hold him close, and make the sadness go away? “What was her name?”

“Carrie,” he says and it’s wrong—all kinds of wrong, but I find myself jealous over the woman who he lost. How old was she? She must have died young. I have a hundred questions about her, but they’re all selfish, and I don’t want him to talk about her. I selfishly don’t even want him missing her, so I concentrate on the other things he said.

“You said you chose your club? I don’t guess I really understand that much about your club, other than you seem close to them. Growing up, my Dad was part of the Shriners, is it kind of like that? A place where men meet, let off steam, and do work for charity?”

His face gets the strangest look on it. He looks as if he is in shock. His body tenses up under me. “Shit,” he mutters.

“Bull?”

“Skye, you said you like to read. Haven’t you ever read anything about motorcycle clubs in your reading or something? Anything?”

“As a student and even now in my residency, textbooks and charts are about all I have time to read, why?”

Again, that look comes across his face. I’m starting to worry. What exactly is this club? I mean, I’ve heard of big motorcycle gangs, criminals really, but it’s been glamourized for television, I’m sure. He can’t be part of that kind of group. Fear grips my heart. I have Matty to think of. Hell, I have myself to think about here. He can’t be part of a gang.

Can he?