Rachel tried to focus on him through the blur of tears. “Not a lot. I heard them discussing possible broken ribs and a pneumothorax?”
Jesus. This can’t really be happening, can it? Logan shut his eyes and tried to tell himself that everything would be okay. Tate was in surgery. He was in the best place he could be. But no matter how many times he told himself that, the reality was he was fucking terrified.
Letting go of Rachel’s hand, Logan got to his feet like someone in a trance and made his way past Cole, who looked up at him with a question in his eyes. But Logan had no answers, and he wanted some. He wanted to know from the doctors what was going on.
He walked up to the main desk and waited for someone to see him standing there. After several minutes, a young brunette came over to find out what he needed.
“Can I help you, sir?”
Logan nodded and licked his parched lips. “I’d like an update on…” He tried to say Tate’s name but couldn’t get the words out.
“On who, sir?”
He was about to try again when Cole stepped up beside him and said, “On Tate Morrison. He was brought in a little while ago. They took him back into surgery.”
The brunette sat down, and Logan turned to Cole with silent thanks in his eyes. Cole gave a nod of his head, and then their attention was drawn back to the woman in front of them.
“And who are you in relation to the patient?”
The question was so simple, yet at the same time, as it echoed around inside his brain, Logan knew that it was about to become extremely complicated.
“I’m his partner. My name’s Logan Mitchell.”
The woman narrowed her eyes and then lowered them to the forms in front of her. She ran her finger down several lines and then returned her gaze to him.
“I’m sorry, sir. You aren’t listed as an emergency contact on the paperwork. You’ll have to wait out here until you’re further notified.”
Logan shut his eyes and willed himself to be patient. He felt a hand on his arm and knew that it was Cole, and when he opened his eyes and faced him, Cole mouthed, “Let’s sit down.”
Yeah, not going to happen.
“Excuse me,” Logan said as he turned back to the receptionist. “I don’t think you understand. The man you have back there? He’s with me, and I just want to know how he is.”
She nodded and gave him a sympathetic smile that made Logan want to strangle her. “I understand perfectly, sir. But hospital policy states immediate family only, and until then, I can’t give out any information.”
Logan clenched his fists on top of the counter as a red haze clouded his vision. He was quickly losing any semblance of politeness he had, and as his temper started to boil, he reminded himself that losing it wasn’t going to get him very far.
“I just want to know how he is,” he tried again, hating the tremble he could hear in his voice. “Mr. Tate Morrison. Can’t you take a look and let us know—”
“Sir,” she interrupted. “I’m not allowed to tell you anything more. A member of his family has arrived, and when she is ready, I’m sure she’ll come and tell you what you wish to know. Those are the hospital rules.”
“Fuck the rules,” Logan shouted.
Cole pulled him away from the desk. “Would you cool it? You aren’t going to get any answers like that.”
Logan glared at Cole like he wanted to murder him. “I’m not getting answers anyway.” Then he realized exactly what the woman had just said. Marching back to the desk, he said, “You said when she is ready. Is his emergency contact Diana Cline?”
The pinched look on the receptionist’s face made Logan think he wasn’t going to get an answer. But she must have had an inner moment of compassion, because she glanced back down to the paper and frowned.
That was when it occurred to him— “I’m sorry. Diana Morrison.”
“Yes.” She nodded. “Mrs. Morrison was taken back around thirty minutes ago.”
The temper that had been the reason for the blood pounding in his head drained in an instant.
As Logan took a step away from the desk, he heard Cole say his name, but he couldn’t respond because his heart had finally shattered.
Chapter Fifteen
Seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned into hours, and somewhere around three in the morning, Logan found himself in the exact same chair he’d fallen into earlier. He hadn’t spoken a word since his conversation with the receptionist.
Cole had taken the seat to his left, and sitting beside him was Rachel, who had her head on her husband’s shoulder. They both had their eyes closed. Logan envied the peace they must have felt in that moment because he would’ve done anything to be able to escape the all-consuming need to know what was going on behind the white double doors only steps away from him.