Page 60 of Bloom: Part 1

Pain flares up my side, and I cry out as a boot connects with my head.

“It’s November. It’s November.”

“Bloom. Bloom, can you hear me?”

I flinched, my breath hitching as his voice pulled me from the recesses of my dark memories. Logan was kneeling before me, his face etched with concern.

“Bloom, talk to me.” He cradled my cheek in his hand, stroking his thumb over my jawline.

My words were trapped in that little boy’s head as I fought to ground myself in the present.

I’m Bloom, no longer that mute little boy.

I’m Bloom.

I’m Bloom.

“Bloom.”

I threw myself at Logan, and he caught my trembling body as I knocked him over onto his ass on the floor. Logan wrapped his arms around me, tucking my head under his chin. I closed my eyes, pathetic whimpers I loathed coming from me, yet I couldn’t stop them.

Say something to him.

He slipped a hand beneath my shirt and rubbed my back over the scar tissues hidden by my tattoos.

“It’s okay,” he said. “You don’t have to say anything. Take as long as you need. You’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you. I promise.”

I squeezed my eyes tightly closed and buried myself farther into his embrace. His warmth enveloped me like a protective shield, keeping away the ghosts of my past who threatened to pull me under again.

For a long time, we sat together on the floor, me clinging to him and him letting me. Several times I tried to speak, but my throat was too tight. Drained from the turmoil of emotions, I sagged against him. Broken and hating myself for being so weak.

A growl rumbled from Logan’s stomach.

I raised my head, but he pushed it back gently to his chest.

“You’re…hungry,” I croaked.

“I won’t die. This is more important.”

The urge to flee like I’d done that morning was strong, but what had that gotten me? Logan finding himself another man. I wouldn’t let that happen again. He was my new Crowe. No, Logan was more. I’d never felt this way about Crowe. Logan made me feel more than safe. He made me feel like I belonged.

“I’m sorry I freaked out over nothing.”

“But it’s not over nothing, is it? Do you want to talk about it?”

I chewed my bottom lip. The images were vague, and they were never concrete memories.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to.”

“They were memories. You looked so angry. I thought you were going to smack me.”

“Yes, I was angry, but, Bloom, I’d never smack you.”

“Not even if I deserve it?”

“No one deserves to be abused.” He tilted my chin and placed his lips on mine. “And sure as hell not you. Not on my watch. Now if we’re having sex and you wanted me to spank your ass, I’d do that in a heartbeat.”

“What’s the difference?”

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