Page 28 of Bloom: Part 1

“That’s where you’re wrong. So wrong that I don’t want to have anything to do with someone who thinks that way. Do you understand?”

“I can change. Or… pretend to.”

“Just go. You’re giving me a headache.”

It was more than likely due to my need for food, but I needed something to push him away. His lips turned down. “I’ve been nothing but nice to you. How can you treat me this way?”

“Because I’m not interested in you. I never have been, and I never will be.”

“You’re lying.” I’d expected him to throw a tantrum, perhaps knife me on his way out, but he smiled, his big, beautiful eyes carrying a well of sadness in them. “I know you’re lying, but I’ll go for now. You’re going to miss me, and when you do, you should call me. No matter how long it takes, I’ll come running. Because it’s you.”

Bloom’s words were like stab wounds from his knife. Hell, they might even hurt worse. He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t throw things, didn’t attack me. In fact, his voice was neutral like he was just stating a fact, but I could tell he meant every single word.

“I won’t call, Bloom, so don’t wait.”

“You can tell me to leave your office, Logan, but waiting is my choice. And no one gets to take my choices away from me anymore.”

The hardness had returned to his face, overlaying the neediness he usually displayed around me. Bloom limped toward the door, his movements slower than usual. Fuck, he’d stabbed himself in the thigh to see me. Would he do anything else drastic?

At the door, Bloom turned around. “You know what’s funny? You implied if I didn’t leave, I would have a shot with you. Ididn’t go anywhere. I stayed put, and still, you won’t allow me to get to know you better.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. I would regret this, but… “You can ask me one question. Anything you need to know.”

He raised his chin. “Are you attracted to me?”

Dammit.

Lie through your teeth.

“Yes.”

Shit.

He nodded and slipped out of the room. I let out a sigh. Finally, he was gone. My office was back to the way it was supposed to be. Just me alone working my ass off to right the wrongs I’d done.

Without Bloom’s presence, I should have been free of distractions to finish the workload on my desk. But when I settled in my chair, I didn’t reach for a file. Instead, I opened the bottom drawer and took out the Ziploc bag with the gifts he’d sent me. His hair, for crying out loud. Handmade cards. A silly big plastic ring. I pushed the ring onto my pinkie. It was the only finger it could fit. I’d tried it before.

I picked up the photo of him. It wasn’t a perfect photo. He was concentrating too hard on the camera, but none of that mattered. Bloom’s naked body was a work of art from the lighthouse tattoo on his neck to the cobwebs inked across his knees. He looked…every bit as sinful as I’d thought he would before he sent me the photo. Yes, I’d imagined him naked. My imagination didn’t even come close. He was stunning.

Even his crazy was beautiful. But I couldn’t let him know that. Ever.

A shadow peeked out from the bottom of the door. Someone was standing outside. A piece of paper slipped through the crack. I put the photo back into the bag and placed it in the box in thedrawer. I walked over to the door and picked up the piece of paper.

My chest tightened. Bloom had doodled a stick figure carrying a broken heart.

Fuck.

I inhaled past the lump in my throat. Hurting him now was for the best. He didn’t know it, but by pushing him away, I was doing right by him.

7

BLOOM

“At the sound of my soft chime, you’ll awaken.” Dr. Simms’s voice floated through the haze, a lifeline pulling me back from the depths of my mind just when I felt like I was drowning. As the gentle ring of the bell pierced the air, my consciousness emerged. I sucked in a deep breath, not wanting to look around the room I hated. Since being in therapy for so many years, I should have been accustomed to the idea of a stranger prying into my mind, but it was only tolerable, at best.

You’re doing this to get better so the doctor won’t think you’re incapable anymore.

But how wasn’t this incapable? Therapy should work, but I was crumpled in the corner of Dr. Simms’s office, cowering, curled up as I rocked back and forth. My cheeks were wet with tears I didn’t remember shedding, and my arms were tightly wound around my knees, anchoring me into place. My mind was a jumble of images and emotions. He’d pried into my childhood memories again, even though I fought against the resurgence of that horrific time before Crowe found me. They always left mefeeling violent and more unstable than before, but Dr. Simms insisted the key to overcoming my episodes was going back—all the way back to when it began.

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