Page 122 of Bloom: Part 2

“Touched.” The word left a bitter taste in my mouth.

“Touched? As in…sexually?”

“Yeah.”

Crowe clenched his fists at his sides. “No, why do you ask?”

“Are you sure? Is there any way you could be mistaken?”

“No chance in hell. Saint’s dad is a doctor. Saint’s parents took care of Bloom when we found him. They checked everything. If he’d been sexually assaulted, they would have told me. But why are you asking this?”

“Just something that came up in therapy, and I wanted to double-check. Is there any way you can ask Saint’s parents if that happened specifically?”

“Sure, it’s a bit late now, but I can try and let you know, but I’m ninety-nine point nine percent certain that never happened.”

Yet Bloom was convinced the assault had taken place. He might not have told me in explicit terms, but I put two and two together. Things didn’t add up.

“All right, I don’t want to leave anything to chance.”

“It’s good seeing how into Bloom you are. He’s a little obsessed with you. It makes things more even that you feel the same about him.”

“Not sure obsession is the healthiest way to describe a relationship.”

“Being healthy or being happy? Which one would you rather be?” Crowe walked away, his question lingering in the air. As a doctor, I’d always valued healthy. But what was the sense of being healthy if it meant denying who we were? Our love might be toxic, but it was honest. We didn’t pretend to be something we weren’t, and in that truth, we found a happiness that no one else could understand. And we didn’t need them to.

“Okay, everybody, listen up!” Jamie had climbed on top of a table in his dangerously high stilettos. Grimm stood next to him as though preparing to catch him should he fall. “I know we’re all having a good time, but we need the spotlight on the grooms. Who wants to see their dance moves?”

I was shaking my head before Jamie even finished. I was pretty sure Bloom wasn’t into dancing either.

“You know I won’t take no for an answer, Logan, so step on up here while Bay provides us with some music.”

Cass and Max were pulling Bloom in my direction. He looked just as disgusted with the idea of dancing in front of everyone as I was, which surprisingly only made me want to do it. Chuckling, I strode over to him, made a dramatic bow, and held out my hand.

“May I have this dance?”

“I don’t dance.” He looked at me as though he was about to pass out. “Everyone’s staring.”

“So let them. As long as we keep our eyes on each other, we’ll be okay.”

He placed his hand in mine, and we stepped out onto a makeshift dance floor formed by a cleared space between the tables and the gathered crowd.

“Do you want it slow or fast, Doc?” Bay yelled across the room.

“Slow.”

The music was soft and slow, the kind that made you sway without thinking, and I pulled Bloom closer, settling my hands at his waist. His breath hitched as our bodies aligned, fitting together as if they’d always been meant to. The din of the crowd faded, replaced by the rhythmic beat of the song and the steady pulse of my heart.

“Relax. No one’s judging your moves.”

“But I don’t dance,” Bloom muttered, his voice low, but he still slid his hands up my arms to rest on my shoulders. His touch was tentative at first, but as we swayed, it grew firmer.

“You’re doing fine,” I whispered. “It’s just you and me.”

We moved in sync, slow and deliberate, barely shifting from one foot to the other. I skimmed his sides, his muscles tensing beneath my touch. He dipped his head slightly, and I leaned in, catching the faint scent of his cologne mixed with alcohol. He’d been drinking.

“This is not so bad.” He circled my neck, and the tension had mostly left him.

I chuckled, lowering my head so my lips brushed his ear. “See? Told you it wouldn’t kill you.” I bit the lobe, and a shiver ran through him.

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