Trust (Temptation #3)

by Ella Frank

  “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.

  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?”

  Logan shoved the car door open and managed to get himself out, which was a feat in itself considering how shaky his legs were. Gripping the side of the car, he held on to it for a moment as everything started to spin around him. He felt like shit, and before he knew that it was going to happen, Logan grabbed his stomach, and threw up all over the concrete floor.

  “Shit, Logan, are you okay?”

  As Cole’s words hit his ears, Logan’s stomach convulsed a second time, and whatever was left inside him came out exactly as the first round had.

  Jesus… What the hell is going on?

  “You’re a goddamned mess,” Cole said as he wrapped his arm around his back and clutched his waist.

  Logan’s head hung down and his hair flopped in his eyes as the stress, the shock, and fuck, everything else finally took its toll.

  “Upstairs. Come on. We need to get you upstairs.” Cole pulled him up until he could sling his arm over his shoulders.

  Logan brought bleary eyes up to his. “’Kay,” he finally agreed.

  “Can I just say how grateful I am that you waited until you were outside of the car to do that?”

  Logan swallowed a gulp of air at the acrid taste in his mouth. He really did need a shower and, now, his toothbrush and toothpaste. After hobbling across the lot with Cole, he leaned on the wall and waited for the elevator.

  When they got inside, one of Cole’s eyebrows rose as he asked, “You going to be okay in here?”

  Logan managed a small nod before the elevator took them up to his floor.

  Cole got him down the hall and into his condo, and as the door shut behind them, Cole said, “Come on. You need a shower. Then, once you feel up to it, I’ll take you back. I promise. You’ll be there when he wakes.”

  Logan staggered into his dark living room, Cole’s words repeating in his head. As he stopped and looked out his balcony doors to a view he thought would forever make him happy, he
now found himself wondering if he’d ever know that feeling again.

  When Cole had walked farther into his place, Logan finally voiced his biggest fear. “What if he never wakes?”

  “He will.”

  Logan rounded on Cole and demanded, “What if he doesn’t? You didn’t see him, Cole. He’s hooked up to so many damn machines it was hard to tell where they ended and he began. Fuck, I feel sick again.”

  Cole took a step toward him and gripped his shoulder in one hand and his chin with the other. “You okay?”

  The question could’ve had many different answers, but all of them were summed up with his quiet, “No.”

  “We’re all here for you, okay? For whatever you need. Work is covered. Food is covered. Lena and Mason are going to bring some by. We’re going to get through this, and when Tate wakes up, we’re all going to kick his ass.”

  Logan nodded as he sniffed back the tears that wouldn’t stop forming. “Fucking tears. I’ve never cried so much in my whole life.”

  Cole pulled him into a tight hug and said into his ear, “You cry as much as you want to. You hear me? It doesn’t do any good to keep shit bottled up. It just finds other ways out. Like through your damn stomach. Right?”

  Logan thumped his brother’s back. Cole was right—as usual. But that’s not what truly terrified him.

  “I don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t wake up. I don’t think I can do this. I mean, this… It’s… It’s—”

  “He’s going to wake up.” Cole pulled back, and Logan was shocked to see that his brother’s eyes were glistening. “That guy—he’s a determined one, and he’s a fighter. He fought for you, didn’t he?”

  Logan nodded.

  “Exactly. So go and shower, lie down for thirty minutes, and then I’ll take you back to him. Deal?”

  Logan walked past him, and when he got to the door to his bedroom, he looked back to see Cole walking over to the balcony doors, running a hand through his hair. He’d brought his phone out of his pocket, and as Logan stood there, he heard his brother greet his wife.