That afternoon, Kieran came to check on me as he always did—out of habit now, and duty, but also something deeper that neither of us named aloud.
He moved through the routine with quiet precision: listening to my lungs, checking the IV drip, glancing at the monitor numbers, asking in his low, steady voice how the pain felt today. His hands were careful, professional—yet every touch carried the memory of last night, the way he'd held me, the way I'd cried into his chest.
When he finished the exam, he didn't leave. He lowered the side rail and sat on the edge of the bed, close enough that his knee brushed mine through the blanket.
I was already in tears before he even spoke.
"I'm sorry," I sobbed, voice thick and broken. "Please don't be angry at me. Please. I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't want—"
He reached for my hand immediately—warm, steady, enveloping my cold fingers.
"Are you crazy?" he said, voice low, rough with something that wasn't anger. Pain. I could hear it cracking under the calm. "Why would I be angry at you?"
I hiccupped, tears falling faster. "Because… because of Eliot. Because he kissed my hand. Because the girls said he's my boyfriend now. Because you saw it and you looked so… hurt. I didn't want that. I never wanted that."
He exhaled sharply through his nose, thumb brushing over my knuckles once, twice—slow, deliberate.
"I will never be angry at you," he said, quieter now, almost fierce. "I'm not a monster, Blossom. Whoever gets angry at an angel like you is the monster. I'm not that degraded. You can do whatever you want. Whoever you want. Whatever you like. Just… let me know, okay?" His voice dropped lower, almost pleading. "I'm your doctor, after all. Anything that happens to your body—anything at all—is my priority. Especially if you're thinking of doing something… exciting. Too exciting. I need to know. For your safety."
My sobs hitched. "Are you saying I'm going to have sex with him?"
He shook his head once—slow, careful. "I didn't say that. I said if you ever think about doing anything physical—anything—you tell me first. I don't want to risk you. I can't lose you to something preventable."
I cried harder, face crumpling. "You think I'm characterless. A bad girl. That I'd just… jump into bed with anyone."
"No," he said immediately, voice firm but gentle. "I don't think that. Not for one second."
"Then why would you think I'm going to have sex with him?" I choked out, tears streaming. "What am I to you?"
He went still. His hand tightened around mine—just enough to feel the tremor in his fingers.
"You said you wanted…" he started, then stopped. Swallowed. "You said you wanted to feel wanted. I thought—maybe with him—"
"But how can I want that with him?" My voice broke into a wail. "What am I to you, Kieran?"
The name slipped out—raw, desperate. I didn't care.
He stared at me—dark eyes wide, unguarded for the first time. Then he leaned forward, pulled me gently against his chest, one arm around my shoulders, the other cradling the back of my head. His heartbeat thudded strong and fast under my ear.
"Calm down, Blossom," he murmured into my hair. "Too much crying isn't good for you. Breathe, baby. Just breathe."
But I couldn't stop. The sobs shook me—pain, fear, longing all crashing together.
He patted my head gently—slow, rhythmic strokes through my hair, like he was soothing a frightened child.
"I want you," I whispered grabbing his shirt hard, voice muffled and trembling. "I know it sounds stupid. I know you're too good for me, out of my reach, but I really… really like you, Doctor. I want you. Not him. Not anyone else. Just you."
Silence.
Then—his arms tightened. His breath hitched once, ragged.
"I'm no one, Blossom," he said, voice rough, almost broken. "Thank you for your kind words. But if you want me…" He pulled back just enough to look at me—eyes shining, jaw clenched. "I'm all yours. I'll do whatever you want. I'll give you anything you want. Anything."
My sobs changed—not pain anymore. Joy. Overwhelming, disbelieving joy. Tears still streamed, but they tasted different now—warm, cleansing. I buried my face in his chest again, clinging to his coat, feeling his heart race under my cheek.
He held me tighter—chin resting on my head, one hand stroking down my back in long, soothing sweeps.
"You're not stupid," he whispered. "You're a strong girl . And nice and kind too . You are my girl. And if I'm what you want… then I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."
I cried into his shirt—quiet now, soft hiccups of relief—and he didn't move. Didn't pull away. Just held me like I was the only thing that mattered in the world.
For the first time in my life… I believed someone might actually stay.