“No, I’m not. I’m here to tell you that we’re leaving.”

Logan narrowed his eyes and sat back. “I don’t understand.”

“In a couple of hours, I’m going to take Tate’s mother and his sister home to get some food and get cleaned up. Then I’ll bring them back this afternoon around four.”

As what he was telling him sank in, Logan was at a complete loss for words. This was the last person he’d expected to show compassion. Never in a million years would he have guessed that Tate’s father would be the one to let him in to see his son—yet that was exactly what he was doing. Isn’t it?

Just to make certain, Logan said cautiously, “I can’t get back without—”

“They have your name,” Mr. Morrison said, and then he stood.

Logan looked up at the tall man towering over him, and in that moment, he felt the tears he’d been holding back since the moment he’d answered Cole’s call slide down over his cheeks. The gift this man had just extended to him was…was…

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. I’m still not on board with all of this, but Diana mentioned that, just before his surgery, Tate regained consciousness for a few seconds. The last thing he said before they put him under was, ‘Tell Logan yes.’”

Logan brought a hand to his mouth and clamped it over his lips, trying to hold back the overwhelming heartache those words had caused. Even while lying on an operating table, in and out of consciousness, Tate had reached for him.

“I don’t know what he was talking about, but this is my way of honoring his words. I’m telling you yes. You can go in there. See him, talk to him, but don’t be there when I bring his mother back. If you can do that, I’m happy for you to try to get my boy to wake up.”

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.

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.