Her Possessive Bikers

15. Kyler

15

KYLER

M y head pounds as consciousness creeps back in. Everything hurts. The room spins even with my eyes closed, and sweat trickles down my temples. This isn't my bed. The sheets are too soft, the pillow too plush. Panic rises in my chest as I try to piece together where I am.

I bolt upright, immediately regretting the sudden movement as pain shoots through my side. "God Damnit!"

Quick footsteps approach and a door swings open. Through blurred vision, I make out a feminine figure rushing toward me.

"Hey, hey, take it easy." Indy's voice is soft but firm as she places a steady hand on my shoulder. "It's Indy. You're at my place, remember? The bar fight?"

Fragments of memory flash through my mind - fists flying, broken glass, sharp pain. I ease back against the pillows, breathing hard.

"How bad is it?" My voice comes out raspier than intended.

"Well, you've got 20 something stitches across your chest and side, a nasty gash on your arm, and probably one hell of a headache." She perches on the edge of the bed, pressing the back of her hand to my forehead. "You're running a bit hot. Scale of one to ten, how's the pain?"

"Seven... maybe eight." I wince as she lifts my shirt to check the bandages.

"Thought so." She reaches for something on the nightstand. "Here's more pain meds. They might make you drowsy, but that's probably for the best."

I swallow the pills she offers with some water. Her fingers are gentle as she examines the stitches, and I try not to focus on how close she is or how she smells faintly of vanilla and antiseptic.

"These look good, no signs of infection so far." She adjusts my bandages with practiced efficiency.

"Thanks for patching me up," I say, catching her wrist as she finishes with the bandages. "Not many people would open their door at 3 AM for a bunch of bikers."

"Yeah, well." She tucks a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "Not many bikers would've been worth getting up for."

Her eyes - so much like Brick's it’s fucking scary - search my face. "Can I ask you something? What's the appeal? Getting carved up in bar fights doesn't seem worth whatever this lifestyle offers."

My fingers trace the edge of the bandage. "It's not about the fights or the danger. Your dad..." The words catch in my throat. "I was seventeen when he found me. Living out of my car, stealing to eat. Most people saw some punk kid not worth saving."

"But Dad saw something else?"

"He gave me a job at the garage first. Then a room at the clubhouse." I meet her gaze. "One night, he caught me crying over some old family photos. Instead of mocking me, he sat down and shared stories about you. Showed me pictures of this little girl with pigtails who'd stolen his heart."

Her eyes glisten. "He carried those everywhere."

"Said being a father was his proudest achievement." My voice cracks. "The MC - it's not perfect. But Brick made it family. He taught me that strength isn't about how hard you can hit, but how much you're willing to sacrifice for the people you love."

A tear rolls down her cheek. She quickly wipes it away, but I catch the tremor in her hands.

"Dad had a way of making people believe they were worth something." She whispers.

"He saved my life, Indy. Not just by giving me a home, but by showing me I deserved one."

The pain meds start to kick in, making my thoughts fuzzy around the edges. I watch through heavy-lidded eyes as Indy disappears down the hallway. The soft padding of her bare feet on hardwood echoes back to me.

She returns with an armload of blankets and a pillow, dropping them beside my bed with a quiet thump. "How's about a sleepover?" She says with a grin.

"You don't have to sleep on the floor," I mumble, fighting to keep my eyes open. "I can manage."

"Right, because you've done such a great job of that so far." She spreads out a thick comforter, creating a makeshift bed. "Besides, what kind of paramedic would I be if I let my patient crash and burn on my watch? You're not getting rid of me that easily."

"Your dad liked that about you." The words slip out before I can stop them, clouded by medication and exhaustion. "Always taking care of people."

She pauses in her nest-building, looking up at me with those familiar hazel eyes. "Yeah, well, someone has to keep you idiots alive."

"We're not all idiots." I try to sound offended but can't fight the smile tugging at my lips. "Just most of us."

"Mmhmm." She settles onto her pallet, pulling a blanket over her legs. "Get some rest, Kyler. Doctor's orders."

"You're not a doctor," I point out, my words slurring slightly.

"Close enough, now go to sleep." She orders.

The pain meds swim through my system, making the room tilt and spin. My tongue feels loose, thoughts floating like clouds across my consciousness. Indy's presence on the floor beside me feels both too close and too far away.

"Hey Indy?" The words tumble out before I can catch them. "You think... you think someone like me would ever have a shot with someone like you?"

She shifts on her makeshift bed, the blankets rustling. "That's definitely the pain pills talking, Kyler."

"No." I struggle to prop myself up on my elbow, ignoring the pull of stitches. "I mean it. You're just... you're something else. Smart. Beautiful. Kind." My free hand gestures vaguely in her direction. "Way out of my league."

"Kyler-"

"I know what people see when they look at me. The quiet one. The outsider. Not good enough for the president's daughter." The words spill out like water through cupped hands. "But I'll prove them wrong. Show you I'm worth taking a chance on. One day."

She sits up, moonlight from the window catching the concern in her eyes. "You should rest. These meds are strong-"

"I've never been more clear about anything." My head drops back to the pillow, too heavy to hold up anymore. "Even if you don't believe me now."

"Go to sleep, Kyler," she says softly, but there's something in her voice I can't quite read.

"M'gonna show you," I mumble as darkness creeps in around the edges. "Just wait and see."

The last thing I register before drifting off is the soft sound of her breathing from the floor below, steady and reassuring in the darkness.