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.

He’d heard somewhere once that music was a good way to reach those who were unconscious, even bring back memories to those who had lost theirs—so hell, why not try everything.

As Logan scrolled through his music list on his phone, searching for the song he was after, he noticed a piece of paper that had fallen onto the floor. He bent down and picked it up, opening it.

Across the top, scrawled in Tate’s handwriting, was: Possible Bar Locations

There were several listings underneath with check marks beside them or crosses through them, but what caught Logan’s attention was the final listing. It was circled several times, check marked, and beside it, Tate had written: Perfect location. Decent price. Show Logan.

That wouldn’t have been overly significant except for what was beside that—three simple words. The same words he’d been told earlier by Tate’s father. Tell him yes.

For the first time in days, Logan felt his lips twitch, wanting to grin as he refolded the piece of paper and slipped it back in the jacket pocket.

Of course, he thought as he pressed play on his phone. Even when you’re finally ready to give me what I want, you’re going to tease me a little first.

As Peter Gabriel’s “Solsbury Hill” filled the room, Logan stood, placed the jacket on the chair, and then leaned down until he was close enough to press his lips to Tate’s forehead. “Come on, Tate. It’s time to wake up and tell me yes.”

Logan couldn’t remember how he’d ended up in Cole’s car, but when his eyes opened and he realized where he was, he sat up like someone had jolted him with electricity.

How the…“What the fuck, Cole?” he demanded as he glowered at his brother.

Cole took his eyes off the road and looked over to him with a frown of concern on his face. “You need a shower, brother. A shower, some food, and maybe, oh I don’t know, ten minutes of uninterrupted shut-eye.”

“Fuck you. Take me back.”

“No,” Cole told him, and Logan had the urge to punch him square in the jaw.

“Take. Me. Back.”

“No.”

That answer was really pissing him off, and as Logan unbuckled his seatbelt, Cole reached across and stilled his hand.

“Think about what you’re doing. Do you really think you’ll be any good for Tate if you can’t function? If you yourself get sick?”

Logan wanted to tell him to go to hell, but the smart fucker had a point. Cole released his hold and brought his hand back to the steering wheel as he wove them through the quiet streets.

“I won’t pretend to understand what you’re going through, but I will tell you this: If that were Rachel in there and you were pulling this shit…I’d want to fucking kill you. But think for just a minute and you’ll realize we’re trying to help you.”

Choosing to bite his angry words back, Logan glared out the front window and remained silent. Cole was right. He did want to kill him. He was furious that he’d taken him away from Tate. What if something happens and I’m not there?

“Shelly promised that, if anything changed… Hey?” Cole stopped talking and snapped his fingers.

Logan turned his head to look at him.

Then he continued. “If anything changes, she will call.”

Logan didn’t bother responding. He went back to staring out the window as Cole continued to talk.

“Rachel went home with Lena so she could watch her, and you are stuck with me.”

“How wonderful,” Logan muttered.

“What was that?”

“I said, ‘How fucking wonderful.’”

“Logan…” Cole sighed.

“What?”

“You were like a fucking zombie when you came out of his room. You were barely coherent. You need to refuel.”

Rolling his eyes, Logan shook his head and spat out, “How do you know what I need? I need to be there. With him.”

Cole turned into the parking garage of Logan’s condo, and as he punched the code in and drove into the visitor’s area, he remained silent. It wasn’t until he drew the car to a stop and pulled the keys from the ignition that Cole really let him have it.

“Listen to me for a second. I know you want to be there. But there’s no fucking way I’m going to sit there and let your health go to shit. I have three people I’m currently worried about, and if I can get you remotely off the ‘is he going to fall the fuck apart’ list, that would be pretty damn awesome. You got it?”