Page 15 of Bloom: Part 2

LOGAN

Afull second passed, my question hanging in the air. Sven always exhibited antagonistic behavior toward Bloom, but maybe there was more.

“God, no.” Sven took a step back, but not even the vehemence in his tone could dispel the heavy lead in my stomach.

“I think you do,” I said. “And you should know, you can’t have him. He’s mine.”

“First of all, he’s not yours. You can’t own a person.”

I shoved my hands into the pockets of my pants. “Yes, you can.”

Amateur. Bloom would instantly agree with me.

“No, you can’t,” he insisted. “And I don’t like himthatway. I just think he’s…cool, you know. It must be freeing to not give a damn what anyone thinks about you and to just follow the voices in your head.”

“Sometimes those voices can be dangerous.”

“Yet you’re still with him. He must be pretty special to land someone like you.”

“Yes, he is.” Silence settled between us, uncomfortable yet thoughtful. “You should be nicer to him,” I said.

“To Bloom?”

“Yes. If you…like him platonically. He doesn’t have too many friends. I think it’d be good for him.”

He’d never made friends on his own. The bikers basically adopted him, and then he met the boys through the Reapers. He never really had a normal life. He deserved that, even if he would have been upset about the turn in our conversation.

The blaring siren from the approaching patrol car prevented Sven from answering. The flashing lights created a disjointed spectacle of red and blue on the cracked pavement. He stood up straighter, clasping and unclasping his hands nervously.

The patrol car came to a screeching halt. Two officers got out of the vehicle and stalked toward us.

“Hi, I’m Officer Roberts,” the cop, with his hair pulled back in a bun, said. “This is my partner, Officer Martinez. One of you called 9-1-1 just now?”

“That’d be me, Officer,” Sven said.

“Okay, why don’t you start from the top and tell me what happened?”

We explained the situation to them. Officer Roberts praised Sven for his quick thinking to record the crime, even if it was dark. Sven, tongue-tied, blushed and stuttered through his softly conveyed “thank you. I watch a lot ofCSI: Miami.” The officer smiled, which only made the nurse’s blush deepen.

“That’s my number.” The officer handed him a card as if he was the one with the stolen car, not me. “If you remember anything, you can call me.”

“I will call you. I mean—if I remember anything useful.”

I didn’t bother to mention that since the cop had the video, they didn’t need to stay in touch. Clearly, Sven was smitten with Officer Roberts. I couldn’t blame him. The cop was young,midtwenties, and good looking. His man bun held a certain charm.

The cops left us, and Sven volunteered to drop me off at my place. When we buckled into his Prius, he carefully placed the card in the glove compartment.

“Nice to see you using my predicament to pick up a hot cop.”

He giggled. “Oh gosh, was I so obvious?”

“As obvious as a bright red stop sign.”

“Oh well, I’m not getting any younger. Have to snag them when I can, but I’m really sorry your stuff got stolen.”

“It’s fine. I’m sure they’ll find them.”

I directed Sven to my house, but otherwise, we drove in silence. After the horrible night, I wanted to put my feet up and relax, have a glass of wine and perhaps a soak in the tub.

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