Trust (Temptation #3)(59)

Logan looked at the woman who had caused them so many problems, and in that instant, he didn’t feel any of the animosity he once had. He felt sympathy at the defeated look in her eyes.

“He never would’ve done that if he didn’t love you with every fiber of his being.”

When she placed a hand on his arm and stepped closer, Logan held his breath for whatever she was about to say.

“Love him,” she whispered. “Love him, and don’t ever stop—not even for a second. Because trust me—losing him feels much worse than standing outside this door right now.”

Before Logan could respond, she moved around him and walked away.





* * *



Beep… Beep… Beep.

That was the first sound that hit Logan’s ears as he slid the door open, and squared his shoulders. Making sure to close it behind himself, he gathered his courage and walked into Tate’s room.

Logan placed his jacket over the arm of the aqua-colored recliner in the corner and slowly made his way across to the intimidating bed Tate was stretched out on. He had a surgical cap on over his curls, likely to keep them away from his mouth and the tubes secured to his lips. His beautiful eyes were taped shut, and stuck to his smooth, tan chest were the pads connected to the heart monitor.

The picture he made was gut wrenching.

Logan came around the left side of the bed, glad for the chair that was there as he practically fell down into it and stared at the silent man in front of him. It was like looking at a stranger, because instead of the strong, obstinate, lovable man he was used to seeing, he was looking at someone who was a mere shell of himself.

He scooted to the edge of the seat and reached for Tate’s hand. Surprisingly, it was warm, and as Logan lowered his head and pressed his lips to Tate’s fingers, he felt his body start to shake as the shock of seeing him this way started to overwhelm him.

The tears were starting up again as he continued to kiss Tate’s knuckles. Then he glanced at his face and said the words he knew he would if Tate’s eyes were open.

“You stubborn ass. I don’t know if you can hear me right now, but damn it, Tate, I need you to wake up.” Closing his eyes, Logan squeezed the fingers he was holding and asked, “Do you remember our first date?” He knew he wouldn’t get a response, but thought about what Tate’s father had told him.

“See him, talk to him… Get my boy to wake up.”

“You know, the one where you tried to embarrass me by ordering a blow job? I don’t think I ever told you, but that was the first time I thought about just how far I would go to keep you.”

Resting his arms on the bed, Logan stroked a thumb over the back of Tate’s hand.

“You were gearing up to tell me to stop coming by the bar, to stop seeing you, and I remember how angry I was that you were even suggesting it, but at the same time, I was grasping for anything—anything to make you stay. Then you did the one thing I can never resist. You dared me. You dared me to try something with you and only you.”

Logan stopped and shook his head, not knowing if any of this would work but willing at this point to talk for hours straight if need be.

“So I’m daring you. Wake up. Wake up and tell me that you were right. That you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.” Logan sucked in a shaky breath and then let it out as he ran his eyes over Tate’s body. “And that I never stood a chance. I love you, and I’m not letting you go. Not now, not ever. I can be stubborn too. Got it?”

When the only response he got was the beeping of the machines, Logan sat back in the chair and let his eyes wander around the room. It wasn’t until they landed on the drawers on the far side that he noticed a plastic bag. He got to his feet, and walked over to it and saw Tate’s clothes inside. Logan opened it up and removed his black leather jacket, noticing that one arm had a hole ripped into it from the accident. But other than that, it was as it had always been.

He turned back to the bed and brought the leather up to his face. He nuzzled into the collar of the worn material, and as the scent of Tate surrounded him, he closed his eyes and thought about the last time he’d seen him.

When he opened them again, he noticed the whiteboard behind Tate’s head with the day, date, and time and was shocked. I last saw him…Monday morning? And it’s only Tuesday. Fuck. It seemed like an eternity had passed.

With Tate’s jacket in hand, he went back over to the chair by the bed and settled into it. As he did, he pulled his phone from his back pocket so it wouldn’t jam into his hip. Ever since he’d arrived at the hospital, he’d had it on vibrate, but as he sat there in the silent room, he had an idea.