Page 127 of Bloom: Part 1

“He’s right, Dr. Simms,” the legal adviser said. “Unless you have permission to discuss the patient’s conditions with us, you may not be specific in this hearing.”

Color rushed into Dr. Simms’s face. “Be as it may, Dr. Collier’s relationship with my patient is affecting his treatment.”

Andrews rubbed the bridge of his nose. “But you did treat this young man recently, didn’t you, Dr. Collier?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Which means your argument that he wasn’t a patient of yours is invalid.”

“That’s not the case. I attended to a singular injury on Bloom’s person. He was never a patient of mine. In fact, I was familiar with him before that incident.” I let out a sigh and rocked back in my chair. “What are we really doing here? Is this necessary right now?”

“I assure you it is. Dr. Simms mentioned you having intimate relations with the patient on hospital grounds. Is this correct?”

“We kissed once, and he saw us.”

“Was that all that happened between you here at the hospital?”

I laughed, shaking my head at Andrews. “Why can’t you be honest about your agenda here? You’re not looking to find fault with my conduct. You want me to take the fall for the incident, isn’t it?”

“Well, the way you went about conducting yourself during the hostage situation—”

“Had nothing to do with this. You know what the real issue is? You decided to cut funding drastically this year and let go of a third of the security personnel. The repairs we needed done should have been finished a long time ago. Had that been done, those assailants would not have been able to access the hospital through that temporary entrance. That is what you need to address as the lawsuits pour in, not trying to make me a scapegoat.”

I rose.

“We’re not finished here, Dr. Collier. This is your career on the line. Don’t think because you’re one of the best trauma surgeons that we won’t fire you if you walk out that door.”

“You don’t get it, do you? You’ve brought me here with some asinine reason while the person I care most about is suffering from injuries. I am this close to not giving a shit, so now’s not the time to press me. You’re looking for a scapegoat to take the fall for everything that went down at the hospital, but if you so much as target that young man or me when we have nothing to do with this, you will regret it.”

“Are you threatening me?”

I didn’t answer him. As far as I was concerned, everything was already crumbling around me. How long could I stay when my face had been plastered so many times on national television in coverage of the hostage situation that there was no hiding who I was from those who wanted me found?

The Agosti family that I had turned my backs on. They wouldn’t let me go a third time.

35

BLOOM

November sucks. The thought lingered in my mind, a dull echo in the void where time had lost all meaning. I struggled to surface from the depths of a black hole that had swallowed me whole. I was desperate to leave, to claw my way out, but my body felt impossibly heavy, like a weight was tied to me.

Voices, distant and muffled, filtered through the darkness. I strained to listen, catching fragments of sentences that slipped away too soon. Logan’s voice was there; I was sure of it. His words were soothing, a lifeline thrown into the murky waters of my consciousness. But what had he said? The memory was elusive, slipping through my fingers like smoke.

Must wake up.

A sudden urge to move surged through me. My arms twitched, weak and uncoordinated. I grasped blindly, fingers closing around something warm—a hand. Clinging to it, I anchored myself to the sensation, fighting against the darkness with all my might.

My eyes flew open, and a barrage of light assaulted me. It burned my retinas, searing and unwelcome. I clamped my eyes shut again, a hiss escaping my parched lips.

When had I turned into a vampire? Would Logan mind sleeping with a vampire? I would only feed on his blood.

“Bloom, are you awake?”

The voice cut through the fog in my brain. I cracked my eyes open more cautiously this time, squinting against the soft light now adjusted to a bearable level. Sarge? Why was he here?

“You got shot. Of course, I’m gonna show up.”

Had I spoken my thoughts out loud? I cleared my throat, the sound gravelly and foreign to my ears. “Shot? What happened?”

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