“I see. And what is it you wish to know?”
“Has he been attending his sessions with you?” Bloom could avoid me all he wanted, but that boy had issues he needed to work out. He couldn’t do that if he stopped going to his appointments.
“And in what capacity are you asking me that question, Dr. Collier?”
“He’s a…friend. I’m concerned whether he’s keeping his appointments.”
“Frankly speaking, I’m disappointed in you for asking me such a question. I don’t know what guidelines you follow, Doctor, but I don’t divulge my patients’ information to anyone. Even if they happen to be a so-called friend.” His voice dripped with disdain.
My nostrils flared, and heat rose to my cheeks. But what could I do? I was in the wrong. I might be a doctor, but I had no reason to know about Bloom’s coming and going to the hospital to see his psychiatrist.
“I understand your position, Dr. Simms, and I apologize for overstepping.” I offered him a polite smile. “I merely thought I could help in the event he was not attending.”
“Your expertise is in trauma surgery. With all due respect, you have no business interfering with a patient of mine. Now if you’ll excuse me…”
What a pompous jerk.
“I thought you would be concerned about the well-being of a patient. If Bloom isn’t showing up and you know of someone who can make him take the sessions seriously, isn’t it your responsibility to listen?”
Dr. Simms stopped. “Bloom needs to see the value in our sessions and attend willingly. Will you be there all the time to check if he shows up?”
“But surely, if I get him to attend his sessions, you’re good enough at your job to convince him to stick with the program, aren’t you?”
“Why don’t we cut to the chase, Dr. Collier?” He crossed his arms. “Everyone at the hospital knows of you behaving unprofessionally toward this young man. A young man who has such severe mental disorders from the harsh abuse he’s suffered in his childhood that he doesn’t think or see the world the way we do. Does it make you feel important—like some sort of god—the way he hangs on to your every word? Because I have a newsflash for you. None of it is real. He doesn’t know what love is. He has an attachment disorder and is incapable of forming relationships with others. In the rare event he does form those relationships, it becomes an obsession, dependency—not love. For whatever reason, he’s decided to latch on to you, and everyone at the hospital witnesses this obsession. If you continue with this farce, you will only exacerbate his mental health condition. If that happens, you’ll have crossed the line from being unprofessional to unethical.” His words came out with such a calm finality that my chest tightened at their implication.
He wasn’t wrong. Wasn’t that a part of the reason I’d stayed away from Bloom? I understood well enough how poor mental health affected people. The way Bloom had huddled in the closet that night, trapped in his mind, was proof Dr. Simms had a point. But was it fair to Bloom to dismiss what he wanted? Was my view skewered because I wanted him to want me like he said? That I even enjoyed how obsessed he was with me and the tiny victorious leaps my heart made whenever he did something grossly inappropriate, like threatening people just to be close to me?
Not only had I gotten used to having Bloom around me, but I also craved how he treated me like a god, and the realization made me feel sick. No healthy relationship could come out of what we had.
“I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to be explaining his diagnosis to me.”
“Only for you to see that you’re a part of this young man’s problem, so why don’t you butt out of his life and allow me to heal minds while you continue to heal bodies?”
Son of a bitch. He walked off with his spine ramrod straight, the echo of his harsh words lingering, yet everything inside me rebelled against them…wanted to prove him wrong. Even though he wasn’t. Bloom was unpredictable. One minute suffocating me with his presence—and he proved asphyxiation might not be so bad after all—and the next he was nowhere to be found.
Guilt bubbled up within me, a gnawing feeling that twisted my insides. I ran a hand over my face, the weight of the truth pulling at my resolve. There was no denying it. Dr. Simms’s words had stung, but they were not without merit.
How could I hinder Bloom’s progress by being selfish? Despite pushing Bloom away, I’d allowed myself to be intoxicated by hisobsession with me. Maybe even feeding it by letting him get his way.
Jesus. I needed a stiff drink. And a quick lay to push Bloom from my mind. I glanced at my watch and breathed a sigh of relief. In another hour, I could go home. To my empty house. I could take a shower and recall the way he’d tasted when he came in my mouth. Then I would grab clean clothes from the closet where I’d watched him that night, worried he would hurt himself.
I care about him too. I want him to be well.
Deep in thought, I continued to my office and almost bumped into two figures standing in front of my door. Nicholas and James were engaged in what looked like a deep conversation.
“Nicholas, what are you doing here?” I asked. “How did you find my office?”
“A nurse showed me. I came upon Dr. Dehaney, who was explaining that you’d already left for the day.”
James subtly lifted his eyebrows as if daring me to call him out for lying when he knew damn well that I was on until six this evening. When had I ever left work early? He knew this better than anyone else.
“I’m still here, as you can see.” I unlocked my door. “Come on in.”
James entered first as if I was talking to him. I gritted my teeth. How can I dissuade him from shoving me and Bloom together at every turn?
“Actually, I’m meeting up with a friend, so this is going to be brief,” Nicholas said. “Thought I’d ask you to have dinner with me tonight so we can catch up, reminisce about old times. We didn’t spend nearly enough time talking at the charity event.”
From the way he was biting his lip, it was clear what old times he wanted to bring up—possibly reenact. Why didn’t I feel the same level of attraction to him now that I had in the past?