Trust (Temptation #3)(58)

Logan nodded, willing to take anything at this point. Tate’s father gave a final nod, and as he walked away, Logan stood and somehow made his way down the hall Shelly had taken him to earlier that morning.

When he found the small alcove with the water fountains, he stepped into it and slid down the wall until he was crouched with his back against it. He wrapped his arms around his knees, placed his head on them, and finally let go of every pent-up emotion he’d had over the last twenty-four hours.

The wracking sobs that left his chest made his entire body shake and he clutched his knees tighter, trying to ground himself. The pain inside his heart was excruciating, as though someone were ripping it from his body, and as he opened the floodgates to release some of the strain, it merely intensified until it physically hurt to cry any more.

Raising his head, Logan looked up at the white popcorn ceiling above him. His eyes stung from the sheer amount of tears he’d shed, and as he thought about the man he’d finally get to see in a couple of hours, he sent a prayer up to the God Tate believed so strongly in.

“Please…” he started, wiping his cheeks. “If you’re up there and listening, I know I don’t deserve it, but he does. He really does. Let me see him today. Let me tell him how much I love him.” He dragged the back of his hand across his wet mouth and could taste the salt on his lips before he whispered, “Please hear me…just this once.”





Chapter Sixteen





Sometime later, Logan found himself being led through the double doors of the ER and down several winding corridors. He had no idea how he finally got to the ICU, but somehow, that’s where he ended up.

The nurse who’d retrieved him pointed across the hall to room three and told him that Tate was just inside. With his jacket clutched in his hand, Logan took several steps toward the glass sliding door, petrified of what he would see on the other side, yet at the same time, needing to know. As he got closer, he reminded himself to breathe, but nothing could’ve prepared him for what he saw when he looked inside.

In the center of the room was a lone bed surrounded by mountains of equipment. But it was the man lying on the bed, flat on his back, with stark, white sheets around his waist, that had Logan reaching for the wall for support.

Tate’s arms lay still by his sides. One had an IV inserted into the top of his hand, and the other had a small, blue clamp on his index finger that monitored his pulse. But that wasn’t what had Logan gripping the jamb so tight that his knuckles were white. No, that was due to the drainage tube inserted below his purplish-colored ribs on the right-hand side and the tangle of them winding from the complicated machines by either side of his head to his mouth.

“It’s hard to look at, isn’t it?”

The quiet voice came from behind him, so Logan made himself turn, shocked to find Diana. She wasn’t looking at him though. She was staring through the glass at the man lying in silent repose.

“I still can’t believe it when I’m in there.” She brought her eyes to his then. Logan saw the redness from hours of crying surrounding them. He supposed that his were much the same. “That it’s really him, you know?”

Of all the ways Logan had ever thought he’d speak to Diana again, this was not it. He’d hoped, when he’d been outside, that she would see him, but after she’d run, he’d figured that was it.

“I know,” he said, surprised when she stepped beside him. He looked at her side profile as she touched the glass.

“He really loves you.”

Logan straightened and let his hand fall from the wall to clutch the jacket between both of them. So many things had gone through his head and heart over the last couple of days, but never had he expected to be standing here and discussing this with Diana of all people.

All the smartass comments or arrogant responses he would usually dish out in this kind of situation vanished in an instant, and he found himself…speechless.

“When I first came home from college years ago and Tate and I…” She gave a small grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes as she glanced over at him. “When we got together, I begged him to tell his parents, and he wouldn’t.” She laughed a little and looked back at Tate through the glass. “He was worried about how they’d react since I was a friend of the family. It took him months…months to finally tell them. And with you—” She stopped talking and shrugged. “I thought if I threatened him, made him have to tell them, that he’d deny it. That he’d turn up at the house for Sunday lunch and tell me to never mention you again. But he didn’t do that. That stubborn ass brought you home for lunch. A man. I never expected him to do that. Not to his very Catholic mother. And you know what?” she asked, fully turning to face him.