Trust (Temptation #3)(62)

An IV… The hospital… The excruciating ache in my shoulder… What the hell happened? Where is Logan?

His eyes searched the room until they skidded to a stop on the back of a short, dark-haired woman—Rachel. He opened his mouth and said her name, but was shocked at the raspy sound that emerged. It didn’t sound anything like him, and “Rachel” had come out sounding more like “Ray.”

The woman standing over by the glass door turned anyway, and as Diana’s face came into view, Tate’s heart stuttered.

What the hell is she doing here? was his first thought, but he quickly pushed that aside as his eyes frantically shifted to the other side of the room.

Nobody else was in there with them. Just him and Diana—in a hospital room.

Jesus, did I fall asleep and wake up in the fucking Twilight Zone? And where is Logan?

“Oh, God. Thank God. You’re awake.” Diana sounded so stunned that it occurred to him that maybe she’d…what? Never expected him to be?

Tate swallowed, about to try to speak again, but his throat felt as though it were on fire—not to mention scratched to shit.

“No, don’t try to talk,” she rushed to say as she walked over to him.

Tate tracked her suspiciously as his pulse started to race and his anxiety level rose. What happened to me? He tried to remember how he’d ended up in the hospital, but he was coming up with nothing, and still…no Logan. Where the fuck is he?

“Your parents just stepped outside. They’re going to want to see you. Oh, and the doctors,” she rambled on.

But when she leaned down to kiss his forehead, Tate managed to grab the wrist she had resting by his hand on the bed. He took it between his fingers, and as she stilled, their eyes connected. It was the first time he’d gotten a clear look at her, and she looked like hell—as if she hadn’t slept for months.

Tate opened his mouth, and as his dry lips parted, he tried to speak. He didn’t care where his parents were. He didn’t even care about seeing the doctors. What he wanted—no. What he needed was to know where Logan was.

Why isn’t he here with me? Did something happen to him?

When nothing came out, he shut his eyes, frustrated at his inability to voice his thoughts. And that was when Diana placed her mouth by his ear.

“Don’t worry. He’s here.” When she raised her head, Tate barely recognized the soft expression in her eyes as she stroked her fingers across his forehead. “He’s been here every day since you arrived.”

Tate frowned, now wondering how long that had been—

“I have to get the doctors. You stay right there,” she told him as she backed away to the door.

Her smile was so genuine that it reminded him of the girl he’d known a long time ago, and it left him thinking that maybe he really had woken up in the Twilight Zone.





* * *



A day. A week. Three had passed by in a haze, and every night, Logan had been ushered back to Tate’s room to sit by his bed while his family left to go home.

It wasn’t until a couple of days ago, somewhere in the fourth week, that Tate had finally started to show signs of improvement. The doctors had removed the drain on his right side and extubated him from the vents. Now, a full forty-eight hours later, he was breathing on his own.

Each day, Logan had been shuffled between the two rooms, refusing to leave except when Cole demanded it. He would sit and wait for any kind of information indicating improvement, but as the month had passed by, he’d started to believe that it wasn’t going to happen—until this week.

With his head resting back on the wall, Logan sat in the far corner of the now familiar room and waited for the head nurse to let him know that it was time for him to go back. He wasn’t exactly sure what Tate’s father had told the staff of the ICU, but every time he entered the area, they all looked at him with curiosity.

“Mr. Mitchell?”

Logan sat up and got to his feet, making his way over to where the nurse was standing by the doors. As he started to wander down the hall with her, she turned in his direction and smiled.

“I don’t know if anyone has told you yet, but Mr. Morrison woke up tonight.”

Logan faltered and then stopped in the middle of the hall. When the nurse realized he was no longer walking beside him, she came back over to where he was standing.

“What did you say?”

“I’m assuming no one did tell you.” She placed a hand on his arm. “He’s awake.”

“Since when?” Logan asked, hardly recognizing his voice.

He’d barely functioned these last few weeks, other than to sit and talk to the silent man lying in the ICU. So this news—this news gave him hope. And it was the sound of that that he didn’t recognize—because until right then, he hadn’t realized he’d lost it.