Page 18 of Bloom: Part 1

My throat went dry.

He’s bleeding. That’s what you’re taking care of, not the other blood flow problem.

“Are you hurt in any other places?”

Just keep peeling those clothes off. You see naked patients every day, and none of them affect you.

“Yes.”

I snapped my head up. “Where?”

He pressed a hand to his chest. “In here every time you ignore me.”

I inhaled sharply. He sounded hurt. My pulse throbbed in my neck.

Don’t let him get to you. He’s a manipulator.

“After the count of two, raise the gauze so I can get these off. The blood’s not dried yet, so we shouldn’t need scissors. Ready?”

“No.”

“Bloom—”

“Answer me first. Do you like me or not?”

“That hardly matters, Bloom.”

“Of course it matters. It’s the only thing that matters to me. Will you at least tell me if you hate me?”

What harm could it do? I let out a sigh. “I don’t hate you.”

His lips quirked up in the happiest smile, and his usual intense gaze softened. One would have thought I’d just confirmed my undying love for him.

“But I don’t hate anyone.”

“Too late. We’re talking about me, not everyone. As long as you don’t hate me, I can get you to fall in love with me.”

“Bloom, stop talking and lift your ass. Here we go, after two. One. Two.”

He worked in sync with me, lifting and removing the gauze so I could peel down his pants. I draped the clothes over the arm of the chair as Bloom sank back down in it. I gently took his leg and examined the deep gash that ran from the inside of his thigh almost to his kneecap. It was a jagged, ugly wound and the skin around it was already clammy and pale.

“How are you not feeling any pain right now?” I asked.

“I took two painkillers right after it happened.”

“What kind?”

“Why?”

“Some painkillers increase bleeding.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that.”

He mentioned an over-the-counter brand, and I nodded, satisfied. “It looks relatively clean, but I’ll still need to sterilize the wound and stitch you up. I’ll have to administer a local anesthetic first.”

“Okay.” His forehead was creased with a frown, and his earlier playfulness was gone.

“Sit on the table.”

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