Twisted Fate by Summer Cooper
19
Logan
In that void of nothing, Logan wondered if there was something more he could have done. He knew then that he should have told Keily he loved her, should have asked her to be his wife, should have made more of an effort to push her, even if it had made sense not to. She needed that space he gave her, needed to adjust to being a mother and a woman who would never have more children than the three that she had. But she’d needed him too, hadn’t she?
Logan wanted a chance to tell her that he not only loved their children, really loved them in a way he’d never expected, but he loved her too. He concentrated when he could, worked on finding a way out of this infernal nothingness, tried to let the voices he heard draw him back to where those voices lived. He couldn’t scream or break anything in this place, but he was certain he nearly broke his own mind trying to escape it.
He had to get back to Keily, no matter what it took. He had to tell her…
“I love you.” The words whispered from dry lips as he opened his eyes and found himself in a very unfamiliar place.
“Did you say something, Mr. Sinclair?” He heard a voice ask.
“Where am I?” His dry throat barely squeaked the words out but they did come out.
“You’re in hospital. You had an accident and you’ve been in a coma. We were just running some scans to check on your recovery.” The disembodied voice said mechanically. “Mr. Sinclair, can you hear me?”
“Keily.” He whispered, wanting her there with him, needing her there to make the confusion go away. She was the only one that could make the world make sense.
He looked around with just his eyes, so used to not being able to move that it didn’t occur to him to try to turn his head yet. He heard loud pulsing sounds and seemed to be lying in a small white tunnel. An MRI?
“Please don’t move, Mr. Sinclair.” The voice spoke from somewhere above him, through a speaker perhaps?
Logan blinked his eyes, realized his head was strapped down and that his body didn’t feel like his own. He wanted to ignore the voice, to explore the white panels that surrounded him, to get out of the machine, to find…Keily.
“My wife…er, no.” Logan paused. That was wrong. Keily wasn’t his wife, but he desperately wanted her to be. She should be his wife. “Keily?”
“She’s upstairs waiting for you, Mr. Sinclair. Now, please, relax and don’t move.” The technician relieved Logan by saying.
“What’s wrong with me?” He couldn’t really feel any part of his body, everything was numb. They must have given him drugs.
“You’ve been in an accident. I won’t know the extent of your injuries until I’ve finished the tests.”
Logan relaxed finally and stopped fidgeting. The room was cool and he wanted a blanket, something that would fight off the chill he felt. He kept it all to himself and smiled up gratefully at the man and woman that came to move him back to a gurney before the man pushed him back to his room on the second floor of the hospital.
“Is he awake?” He heard Keily ask and looked over at her. Her face was pinched with worry and her makeup was in a mess but that didn’t matter. She was one of the most beautiful sights he’d ever seen.
“Awake and fidgeting.” The man said with a quiet laugh. “I think he’s going to be awake for a while this time.
Logan smiled over at Keily while a nurse and the man from radiology moved him back to his bed. He looked down to see a temporary brace on his leg and that his clothes had been replaced by a hospital gown. “I take it I didn’t show the floor who’s boss?”
“Fuck me, no, you didn’t Logan,” Keily whispered when she’d taken a seat on the side of his bed. She grabbed his hands up in hers to kiss them. “What happened? Do you remember?”
“The crowbar slipped, and Will jumped back.” Logan stopped as the memory replayed. Exhaustion pulled at him, but she was real, he could smell her perfume, feel her skin, knew she was real, and he didn’t want to ever leave her again.
“I was so afraid when I got the call from the factory. They told me you were bleeding from your head, that you’d fallen over fifteen feet…” Her voice trailed off. Her eyes were shiny with unshed tears, and a sob broke free of her throat. “I thought, after all that we’d been through with the girls that we’d get a break for a while, but that all changed. I was picturing you as they described you, broken, bleeding, worse.”
“I’m here, Keily,” Logan whispered, his throat suspiciously tight after the fear she’d poured out. He didn’t want to leave her, not ever again, and especially not forever. “I’m not leaving.”
“You certainly aren’t, Mr. Sinclair.” A female voice intruded into their private moment, full of cheer and wisdom. “You have a brain injury, a fractured leg, some bruising that is healing, a few muscle tears that are also healing, but we’re confident that you’ll recover. You’ve been in a coma, but hopefully, that’s over now.”
“How long?” He asked, his voice raspy. Keily moved to bring a cup filled with ice water to his lips and he took a long drink through a straw.
“Two weeks now,” Keily answered for the nurse. “Two very long weeks.”
He sighed when she put the cup down to stroke his face. He didn’t feel a beard so someone must have shaved him. It was an odd thing to think about, knowing someone had shaved his face without him being even slightly aware of it.
He looked up at her and wanted to share everything he’d thought about while he was ‘gone’ but…lethargy took over.
“You’ll be sleepy from the pain medicine, Mr. Sinclair.” The nurse warned and Logan wanted to tear the IV out of his arm…or wherever they’d put the drip. His body still didn’t feel completely like it was his own.
Sleep took him before he could say anything else, before he could reveal everything to Keily, but this was natural sleep. The kind that came with dreams unplagued by fear or nightmares. He’d wake up at some point, he’d get that chance he’d been terrified he’d lost. He hoped.
When he woke up again the room was lit only by the screens of the many machines he was hooked up to. He was…alone.
Had it all been a dream, he wondered as he looked around but didn’t see signs of life anywhere. Had he been hurt in California when the earthquake struck there? Fear clenched at his heart as that thought took hold and sunk roots into his brain. Were the babies real? The struggle that poor Keily had been through, was that all a part of a nightmare? He searched the room for any signs of what could be, had been, would be, but saw nothing but medical equipment, a TV, and a large window.
Where was he?
He looked around, saw a whiteboard with the names of his nurses, and a graphic that read ‘Mercy Emergency Hospital of King’s Hill’. Okay, he knew where he was now, even if the hospital had a strange name. Logan took a deep breath and looked around his bed. He wasn’t often sick, rarely needed a doctor, but he’d visited people a few times and knew there should be a call button on his bed somewhere.
He pushed the button, and a loud voice made his eyes go wide in shock. “Is that you, Mr. Sinclair?”
“Yes, can someone tell me what’s going on?”
“I’ll be right in, Mr. Sinclair.” The matronly female voice responded and Logan sat back. Impatience nagged at him as he waited for the nurse to come in to see him, but he reminded himself that the woman probably had a lot to do.
“I sent that pretty little thing that’s been by your side the last two weeks home just a little while ago, Mr. Sinclair.” A woman in her mid-50s said as she walked into the room patting dark gray hair into place. “She’s wearing herself out watching over you and those adorable babies of yours.”
“Keily?” He asked, hope blossoming into life again.
“Yes, such a pretty name. She’ll be back soon, I’m sure. Now, let’s have a look at that IV, shall we?” She asked with a friendly smile that put him at ease.
It didn’t matter what she wanted to check, or if she wanted him to run naked through the hallways. He was in South Carolina and everything he remembered was real. Most importantly, he was truly awake, at last. “Is there anything to eat at this time of night?”
“We’ll find you something, honey.” The nurse patted his arm and Logan smiled. This was good. Very good.
