6

Fourteen hours of being on my feet was a normal day for me. Some days were worse than others, and today had gone downhill fast. I'd planned to take care of the emergency I'd been called away on, then sit Bloom down and explain to him patiently why we couldn't have any kind of relationship. The chaos that had been waiting for me in the ER had quickly changed that plan.

I must have sucked the life out of an entire fourteen-pack watermelon gum. The chewing motion had kept my brain active and my eyes open. Fueled by my flavored saliva and familiarity with my practice, I managed to make it through the evening, navigating the emergency room of a crime-infested town.

I'd seen three different patients suffering from gunshot wounds, one I'd already extracted two bullets from in the last year. Without judgment, I'd patched him back up, certain I'd be seeing him again soon, or the next time we'd send his body to the morgue.

Just when I'd thought that was the end of it, a teacher who'd jumped from the second floor of Smoky Vale High was wheeled in, followed by victims of a multi-vehicular crash that plunged our emergency room into one of the blackest days I'd experienced since I started working at the hospital.

The crash victims came in waves. First the driver of the pickup, his body crumpled. Then the occupants of a sedan—a mother and child. The mother's condition was critical; she'd taken the brunt of the impact. Her daughter was miraculously unscathed physically but remained an inconsolable bundle of terror until her father arrived.

Broken bones, ruptured spleens, collapsed lungs, and a crushed skull were just a few of the litany of injuries we faced. Blood-soaked scrubs, the harsh glare of surgical lamps, and the constant beep of life monitors became my world for hours.

I'd never felt more alive.

Family members poured into the waiting room, making the situation tenser. Desperate faces scanned the room, clinging to every announcement made. Some prayed, others cried, and then there were the difficult ones we tried to empathize with, but who demanded answers, not understanding that our priority was saving the lives of their loved ones, not answering their questions.

Consoling family members and friends had never been my strong suit. My mentor had once tried to convince me that to be a good surgeon, I needed to connect with patients and their families on an emotional level.

He'd said that the scalpel was my instrument but compassion was my tool.

But over the years, the knives and bullets extracted from bodies, the organs I'd stitched back together, the patients I'd seen come and go—or not go at all—had hardened me. Empathy was a luxury I couldn't afford amid the chaos. My role was to mend bodies, not hearts.

You're welcome.

What did it matter if I didn't pick up the crying child who held on to my leg? I'd saved his mother's life, hadn't I? Wasn't that the important thing?

Despite the chaos that had descended upon us, it was a satisfying evening when I finally walked out of the OR. Some patients were in critical condition, but I hadn't lost any. As the waiting room slowly emptied, I breathed a sigh of relief and marched to my office. I loved my job. I wouldn't want to do anything else, but I needed food and sleep to do it all over again.

Thank god I'd sent Jamie to inform Bloom that he should leave. I was too exhausted to handle his big emotions. With my guard down, I might share details I didn't want him to know—like how the sight of him made me yearn for things I could never have. Every time he let it slip how innocent and untouched he was, desire filled me to be his first and his only. Dangerous thoughts I would do well to squash.

A small note was pinned on my office door.

Dr. Collier, see me when you get the chance-A.

What the hell did Andrews want? He was the hospital's director and usually reserved his visits for special circumstances, emergency meetings, or distressing news about funding. We weren't exactly seeing eye to eye after I'd chewed his ass out for cutting corners in the trauma unit last month. His whining about lack of funding hadn't fazed me—not when he didn't live in Smoky Vale but made use of a private jet so often that the money could easily have the abandoned wing repaired. But with him, everything had to go through the bureaucratic process.

Whatever he wanted could wait.

I entered my office. My empty office. I breathed out slowly, shying away from acknowledging the heavy feeling of disappointment. Bloom had left. Why was I surprised? I'd told him to leave, but he'd also promised to stay put.

"You need to make up your mind," I muttered. "You want him, but you can't have him. Just let it go already."

I walked past the papers piled high on my desk and went straight to the bathroom. Though considerably smaller than the one at home, it was big enough for me to freshen up after a long day.

After scrubbing my hands thoroughly, I splashed cool water on my face. Fluorescent light reflected in the mirror, casting a harsh light on my features. My eyes looked more bloodshot than usual. I took a deep breath, struggling to keep my eyes open.

I dried off with a clean towel and trudged back to my desk. The chaotic mound of work stared back at me, demanding attention. The charts from today's work: gunshot injuries, broken bones, and car crashes. Diagnosis, procedures, prognosis…every single detail had to be jotted down meticulously. There was no room for error.

I filled out the reports one by one. The process was usually monotonous, but today it felt particularly laborious. Shit. I shook my head. I was reading the same sentence over and over without processing it.

I need sleep.

No longer able to resist, I pulled out the couch and collapsed onto it. A wave of exhaustion hit me. I didn't bother to turn off the lights. Didn't have the energy. I barely managed to set my phone alarm to wake me up in an hour before I was out.

Why hadn't he stayed? Maybe he wasn't that serious after all.

#

"Dr. Collier can't come to the door right now."

"Is he inside his office or not?"

"He's sleeping, and if you wake him up, it'll make me unhappy. You don't want to do that."

The voices of two people arguing stirred me from my sleep. For a few seconds, I stared at the ceiling. What was going on?

"Who the hell are you?" The familiar demanding voice of Andrews was filled with irritation even more than usual.

I closed my eyes. Dammit, I was still pissed off that he'd not only denied my request for more funding for the trauma unit but had also cut our budget. I had no desire to speak with him.

"Listen up, sir." My eyes flew open. That voice. "I'm the one who'll hang you by your toes if you insist on barging your way in. Read my lips, sir asshole. Dr. Collier is not accepting visitors at the moment. Please come again. Thank you."

The door clicked shut, and I winced. A part of me was outraged that Bloom had once again asserted himself into my business after I'd made it clear I had no interest in him. He was barely out of his teens, for crying out loud. But the other part of me had to stifle back a laugh from imagining the look of outrage that must be on Andrews's face.

I didn't know anyone else at the hospital who dared to contradict him. Had a staff member talked to Andrews this way I would have bought them dinner, but this was Bloom. If I showed him the least bit of affection, he would become even more obnoxious than he already was.

I fixed my face into a disapproving scowl and sat up on the couch. Bloom stood at the door, favoring his left foot, still dressed in the shirt I'd given him. Hadn't he left the hospital earlier? Why was he still wearing the same clothes?

I had to get this boy to leave me alone. Only then could I return to my routine I'd perfected for over a decade. As a creature of habit, I didn't have the time for distractions. Should I choose to entertain a man in my life, it would definitely not be one this peculiar and bordering on unhinged. And not one this intoxicating. A boy like Bloom would consume me and take way more from me than I was willing to give anyone.

Bloom's gaze collided with mine, and his lips turned down in a frown. "Fuck. I'll gut the bastard. I really will," he muttered.

"You're not going to do anything." I climbed to my feet and stretched. His gaze followed my movements without so much as a blink. I rocked back on my heels. There were days I wished I'd never argued with him that first day we met. If not, I wouldn't have drawn his attention to me.

The way he watched me might have made another man feel ten feet tall, but I wasn't an ordinary man. I knew damn well I did nothing to deserve that look. If anything, I'd been rude to him on purpose, but it hadn't dissuaded his obsessive behavior toward me.

Bloom stuck his bottom lip out. "But he woke you up after I went to so much trouble to disable your alarm and pager so you could sleep longer."

"You did what?" I patted my pockets.

"I put them on your desk."

I checked my phone. My heart stuttered. I hadn't slept for an hour like I'd planned, but four hours. Next to my phone, my pager sat useless.

"Now before you get mad, let me explain."

I glared at him. "There"s no explanation that can excuse what you did. What if there was an emergency, and they needed me?"

"Then other doctors will see those cases."

"And if they can't handle those cases?"

He shrugged. "The patients die."

He'd said it earlier, but not until hearing it again did I realize he meant it. He was comfortable talking about a loss of life because he'd taken his fair share. As young as he was, he was like the other bikers. Maybe even worse for someone so young to be a cold-blooded enforcer. While I had to be the opposite, the person who worked to save lives whether or not they deserved a second chance.

Did it even make sense to argue with him about this?

"How did you get inside my office? I locked the door when I came in. Did you get your hands on my keys?"

He grinned. "I promised the janitor a blow job if he opened the door for me."

"You did what?" The words exploded out of me, and I clutched my chest. My blood boiled at the mental picture of Bloom on his knees, his lips locked around another man's dick.

Over.

My.

Dead.

Body.

"I won't actually do it." He limped over to my desk and stroked the front of my pants. "If it's not your dick, Doc, I don't want it."

I batted his hand away and took a step back.

"You should go."

Bloom let out an exasperated sound. "Why? Are you mad? I was only looking out for you. I saw how tired you were when you came in. If you don't take care of yourself, how are you supposed to take care of your patients?"

Huh? Bloom was making sense. Was I still asleep? "Wait a minute, what do you mean you saw how tired I was when I came in? Didn't you say the janitor opened the door for you?"

"I lied. I wanted to see your reaction to me sucking another man's dick."

And I'd walked right into the trap. I swallowed hard. Why did I think this boy was simple-minded? He was anything but.

"Where were you hiding?"

"In the closet."

Of course. He hadn't been in the bathroom, so that left only the closet. "So you just sat in the closet, watching me without announcing yourself?"

A wave of discomfort washed over me, crawling over my skin like a swarm of ants. The thought of Bloom, concealed in the closet, silently observing my every move, injected a chilling unease into my veins.

"I didn't mean any harm. Besides, I was polite to that jack-man who came to your door."

"Polite? You called him an asshole. That man's my boss."

"I said sir."

I closed my eyes and raised my head to the heavens, begging for divine intervention I didn't believe in.

"Bloom." When I opened my eyes, he was chewing on his bottom lip. For a second, he looked so vulnerable I forgot what I was about to say. Every time I told myself this would be the last time I considered his feelings, I looked into those blank green eyes and wanted to see life in them. Oh, he laughed, he got angry, and he could be stubborn, but deep in those eyes, he seemed to have sealed away a part of him that wouldn't allow him to feel.

If he couldn't feel, how could I take his pursuit of me seriously?

"You were saying, Logan?"

I blinked. "I still have a lot of work to do. Go home."

"I can hel—"

"You"ve helped enough. I just want to be left alone. Can you do that for me? Can you leave?"

He slid off the desk. "Okay, if that"s what you want. I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"No, Bloom. I mean, when you leave, I don't want to see you back here. This is my professional space, and if you can't respect the lives I have to save, there's nothing more we have to say to each other."

"But people aren't that important. Only a few. Like my brothers… like you."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. Arguing with him was useless. A wire must have been crossed somewhere inside him. The moment we met I'd known he was different. Too different. His level of unpredictability was a hazard in my field. In my life.

"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. I didn'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 the drawer. 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.