Page 9 of Bloom: Part 1

“Why do you suddenly have an issue with a therapist? You have been going to them for years. It’s just an excuse so you can hold back on things you should tell him.”

“Why would I tell him anything? I already know what he’s going to say. That I’m not ready for a relationship.”

“Exactly.”

“But he’s wrong. You’re wrong. I’ll show you.”

I straightened my spine, but before I could take a step, Crowe grabbed my arm. His hand, though firm, gentled the second I turned back to face him, and he instantly released me. He knew what being restrained did to me.

“Bloom, I say this because I’ve seen how far you’ve come, not to hurt you. You know your capacity to love and be with someone is linked to your attachment disorder. You’re still working through this in therapy. You can’t afford to get attached to someone who won’t reciprocate. It won’t end well.”

His words reminded me of the new therapist I’d been seeing since my relocation to Smoky Vale. When I brought up the idea of a relationship, Dr. Simms had shot me down and told me I had a long way to go before I could have a healthy relationship. Was it so bad to have a relationship without the healthy part? Crowe stalked Max. Was that healthy? Nope, but they did it anyway, and I saw how they loved each other. Ben and Gunner had literally pulled guns on each other. More than once. Shitty, abusive past aside, chances were with role models like them, I would still be the same fucked-up guy I was anyway.

“I have to go.” Fuck him for scolding me. It was on the tip of my tongue to remind him he wasn’t my father, but he was more of a father to me than anyone else. He’d cared for me when I was at my lowest, refusing to believe I would never be normal.

On second thought, I threw my arms around Crowe and hugged him. I didn’t want to be ungrateful for all he’d done for me. He and I alone knew the extent of how far I’d come.“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, Crowe, but you can’t protect me from everything. You taught me how to survive, remember? Now, please let me live.”

The mess hall had gone quiet. I looked over Crowe’s shoulder. The bikers were staring at us with bewildered and uncomfortable expressions on their faces, as if they’d never seen two men hug. Maybe not. They were the type to fuck a man but not hug him.

Dr. Collier wouldn’t be like that. I just knew it. My shrink would have told me I was projecting expectations on him, but I didn’t care.

“The fuck you looking at?” I asked.

The tension eased from Crowe, and he chuckled. “Leave ’em alone. They don’t need to understand this. Just as long as you know I’m here if you need anything.”

“I know.”

“And if you have questions, come to me, not to Saint. Not even Bay. Those assholes take everything for a fucking joke.”

But sometimes that was what I needed. They balanced Crowe’s role. “All right. Now I really have to go, or I’ll miss my therapy session. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

“You’re nothing but trouble, you know that?”

I grinned, loving the warmth in his voice as I walked away. Off to my therapy appointment, where I might just conveniently run into the doctor.

2

LOGAN

After three back-to-back surgeries, the most recent of which was an emergency laparotomy, the last face I wanted to see when I approached the nurses’ station was Bloom’s. Coincidentally, the fatigue I’d felt just moments before disappeared as I straightened my spine and braced for impact.

“Running into” Bloom always had the effect of being hit by a train going seventy miles per hour. I was in no mood for the devastation he left in his wake. Not today. One of my patients hadn’t made it through surgery. I still had to document what had happened and inform his family.

Bloom wore full black as usual from the crown of his head, which I suspected was a natural blond, to the soles of his combat boots. His cargo pants had more pockets than I could count and several chains running from one end to the other.

In theory, Bloom should be a huge turnoff with his face piercings, stretched earlobes, and the tattoos covering almost every inch of his body—information I didn’t even want to know. His presence should make people look in the other direction. And it did. Some visitors sitting in the waiting area kept castingsuspicious glances his way. As I approached, Nurse Hatchett sent me a look of relief. She didn’t like Bloom lounging by her desk, but as always, he seemed oblivious.

Why didn’t I feel in danger around him? Given the people he hung out with, I knew he was a cold-blooded killer. When he’d said he nearly ate his parents, I believed every single word. Yet his eyes held something vulnerable, something innocent about the way he smiled when he saw me. Always smiling for me, even though his default expression seemed to be a frown.

“What’s up, Doc?” He grinned from ear to ear, stretching those plump lips of his. He was stunning just by being, but when he smiled… my god, was he gorgeous. My stomach fluttered, and I inhaled. Dammit. He smelled delicious and made my mouth water. I wanted to lick him all over, exploring his tattoos with my tongue.

You can’t have anything to do with this boy.

He wasn’t my type. I usually liked guys closer in age to me—in their late twenties at the least—and I preferred them well built. Bloom was slender and too damn young. Not to mention, he took people’s lives while I worked to save them.

“Nurse Hatchett.” What was that scent Bloom was wearing? I detected a rich amber with an undertone of warm musk but mixed with something else. Something that teased my senses. A fragrance that was magnetic and alluring, drawing me to him despite my best efforts to ignore him. “That’s it for me. Dr. Otto is on call. Unless she needs to consult me on a case, I wish not to be disturbed.”

“Making some alone time for me?” Bloom sidled closer and traced a vein on the back of my hand with his index finger. My mouth went dry, and I fought against the instinct to snatch my hand away. Then he would know how much he affected me, and I’d been downplaying any sort of attraction to him since we first met.

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