Page 19 of Bloom: Part 1

I washed my hands, slid on a pair of fresh sterile gloves then fetched the medical supplies. He lay spread out on his back with his lower half naked. His erection had softened, thank god.

I carefully draped the white sheet up to cover his groin, leaving out the bleeding thigh. Bloom flinched as I cleaned the area around the gash with an antiseptic wipe, but he remained silent. I opened the sterile package with the small vial of local anesthetic and a syringe. Most patients looked away at this point, but Bloom watched me as I cleared the liquid into thesyringe and tapped the side to remove any air bubbles until a small bead of liquid appeared at the tip.

“I think my leg’s better,” Bloom said, his voice laced with fear.

He was afraid of needles? I raised my eyebrows. “You’re covered in tattoos. You’re telling me you’re afraid of the needle?”

“It’s different.”

“You’re right. You’ll feel a sting, but it will be over before you know it.”

As I applied the anesthetic around the wound, Bloom’s grip on the table tightened. But he didn’t make a sound.

“It’ll take a few minutes for the area to go numb. Why don’t you tell me why you’re afraid of needles?”

Bloom bowed his head. “It’s not just the needles, but the setting. Too familiar.” A faraway look settled in his eyes. “Hospital room, the scent of antiseptic and bleach, people asking me questions, always asking me questions. The needles they used to control me.” He rubbed his nose. “Especially in the beginning, when my brothers found me.”

“Found you?”

He smiled, the change startling me. “Sneaky doctor. You almost had me sharing all my secrets with you.”

Not at all. Just some to make me better understand him. No one became the way Bloom did without having experienced a traumatic past. A past I’d never cared to know about.

“If you want to know about my entire past, ask me out on my first date.”

First date? I blinked, my mind reeling. If he was to be believed, he was a virgin who’d never been on his first date. Would he also try to convince me he’d never kissed anyone?

“I’m not going on a date with you.”

“Why not? A few nights ago, a woman hit on me. If she wants in my pants, why don’t you?”

“A woman hit on you?” Jealousy seized me, its icy grip holding me hostage. His eyes were lit with a devilish glint like he could read my emotions. I cleared my throat. “You should go on a date with her.”

“Impossible. I’m not into women. I’m not into anyone but you.”

“Bloom—”

“Are you going to stitch me now?”

Without a word, I washed the inside and edges of the wound with a sterile solution, then picked up the sterilized suture kit and unfolded it on a clean tray. I selected the needle and thread—fine enough to minimize scarring but strong enough to hold the wound together effectively. I started at one end of the gash, carefully bringing the edges together and stitching with precision.

As I worked, Bloom watched me, which rattled my nerves. Once the stitching was complete, I cut the thread and applied a thin layer of antibiotic ointment over the stitches to promote healing and reduce the risk of infection. Finally, I covered the wound with a clean, sterile bandage, securing it in place.

“There, all done.” I disposed of the used medical supplies and removed my gloves. “You’ll need to keep the bandage clean and dry. Also, try to avoid any strenuous activities that might strain the stitches. You need to come back in for a follow-up to check on the healing progress and have the stitches removed when it’s time.”

Bloom nodded. “Thank you, Dr. Collier,” he said, his voice husky. From the tent in the sheet, he was hard again. What a weird boy. Did he have a pain kink? That would explain so much.

And it was way more than I needed to know.

“I don’t suggest you put those clothes back on. I have a shirt in my closet you can wear, or you can call someone to bring you a change of clothing.”

“I’d rather wear your shirt.”

Why didn’t his choice surprise me? I had no right to feel as pleased as I did. Bloom dressed in my clothes was way too personal. “All right, stay right here, and I’ll get it.”

On my way to my office, I passed the nurses’ station. The three women fell silent. They were discussing me, all right, and another doctor couldn’t meet my eyes. I nodded at them, but I felt sick to my stomach.

What had happened to keeping Bloom at arm’s length? One incident and I was tripping over my feet to take care of him.

---