Because of Logan

by Erica Alexander

  “I heard Logan was shot. Please, do you know anything?”

  “Yes, he was shot, and the info we have is that it’s not life-threatening.”

  A flood of relief nearly knocks me on my knees.

  “How did it happen?” I have to know.

  “I’ll tell you what I know, but you can’t repeat it.”

  I nod in agreement.

  “Here’s what we pieced together. Logan was following a driver who seemed to be driving under the influence and he pulled him over. He informed dispatch and proceeded to check on the driver. Up to this point, everything was going by the book. But it went down south pretty fast from there. As soon as he got to the driver’s window, Logan could tell the guy was flying high on some heavy-duty drugs. He told the guy to stay in the car and called for backup. At some point, the suspect exited the car and went after Logan.”

  The officer shakes his head. I look at him willing the memory of how I know him to come. It clicks.

  “You were at Riggins. You were there with Logan that day.” No need to clarify which day I’m talking about.

  “Yes, I was, and that’s how I knew who you are the moment I saw you.”

  I nod and he continues.

  “Logan tasered the suspect, but he just kept coming at him. There was a scuffle, but this guy was so high, it would have taken half a dozen of us to stop him. We have an eyewitness who said the suspect picked Logan up like he weighed nothing and tossed him to the middle of the street. The suspect pulled a gun from his waistband, and while standing over Logan, he shot him several times. By then, other officers had arrived on scene and they opened fire. This guy was raging. He was so high that even after being shot, he kept going after them. They finally managed to get him down by shooting at both of his legs. It took six officers to restrain and cuff him.”

  “Oh my God.”

  I’m shaking.

  River steps closer and pulls me to her side.

  “We think the suspect was high on PCP, Flakka, or bath salts. It’s known to make people go insane and it gives them superhuman strength.”

  “Thank you so much, Officer.”

  We go back to the waiting room.

  River sits to my right and glares at Logan’s family. The mom looks at me, and the corner of her mouth lifts as if trying to smile, but she doesn’t know how. She casts her eyes down. Amanda sits next to Logan’s dad, her body inclined toward him, and I notice how he speaks to her in a low hush but never speaks to or even glances at his wife on the other side of him. The secret Logan shared with me comes to the front of my mind, and it makes me sick. If I had anything in my stomach, I’d puke at their feet. How could they? And after all that, it’s obvious they’re still carrying on with the affair. I glance at the mom again and wonder if she knows. She has to. No one can be that oblivious. And if she knows, how can she put up with it?

  “Is it me,” River whispers, “or is there something going on with Logan’s dad and his ex?”

  I close my eyes, ready to deny it. It’s Logan’s secret and not mine to tell, but anyone with eyes can see what’s happening right in front of us. And I’m tired of being the keeper of everyone’s secrets.

  “It's not you. I see it too.”

  “Sick.”

  “If you only knew.”

  River looks at me sharply, and she’s about to interrogate me when a doctor comes into the waiting area. We all jump to our feet. The three officers step behind River and me—it feels as if they took sides and picked us.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Cole?”

  “Yes.” His father takes the lead, his imposing figure filling the space.

  “He’s okay.”

  I sag against River, and her arms come around me and hold me up. His mother visibly relaxes. His father has no outward reaction and the ex just looks bored.

  “He’s still sedated and will be waking up soon, but we need to give his body a chance to heal and fight back. He’ll be in the ICU, and someone will come to get you once he’s prepped and comfortable. You can see him, two at a time, and just for a few minutes. He really needs to avoid stress and rest.”

  “Do you have any questions for me?”

  His father says no, and as the doctor is turning to leave, I step up.

  “I do. Have questions, that is.”

  The doctor looks between us and glances back at Joanne behind her desk. I guess he’s been made aware of the situation.

  “Yes, miss?” His tone is dry.

  I want to scream. Can’t you see I’m the only one who cares? The one who loves him?

  “What’s the nature of his injuries?”

  I can feel Amanda staring daggers at the back of my head, but I ignore her.

  “He was shot five times, one bullet through his left arm and the other grazed his neck. He was very lucky as both bullets missed bones and arteries and he has no major damage from them. But he also suffered a contusion. He dislocated a shoulder and broke his left arm in three places. My guess is that when he was thrown, he used the left arm to brace himself. We had to reset and pin the bones. Our biggest concern right now is the head trauma as he stayed unconscious for a long time. We are keeping a very close watch.”

  I gasp and my hands go my mouth. Hold it in, Skye. You can fall apart later. Hold it in.

  “I don’t understand. You said five shots.”

  The doctor’s voice is somber.

  “He was wearing a Kevlar vest. There were three other bullets on it. That vest saved his life.”

  I nod and hold my hand up, asking him for a moment while I blink several times to keep the tears at bay.

  “Is there a risk of brain damage?”

  My voice is shaky.

  “There’s always risk any time someone suffers any kind of head trauma, but the likelihood of any permanent damage is minimal.”

  “And what about his other injuries? Will he make a full recovery?”

  “He’s young and strong. The next twenty-four hours will be telling, but I think we have a good chance of full recovery. He might need some physical therapy for the arm, but his chances are good.”

  “Thank you. Thank you for saving his life.”

  The doctor nods and looks back at Logan’s family, who are sitting back with a displeased look about them. Well, not his mother. She has silent tears streaming down her face.

  The doctor walks away but stops after a few steps and looks directly at me.

  “If you have any more questions, have the front desk page Doctor Marcus.”

  And without another glance toward the other side of the waiting room, he leaves.

  I sit back with River. The officers huddle in a corner, their voices too low for me to make out what they’re saying. Logan’s father and the ex turn to each other, whispering. His mom holds my stare and mouths a thank you.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  The worst part of being shot isn’t the actual shooting. It’s being trapped in this bed and not being able to get up and walk away when my father came into the recovery room with Amanda late yesterday after they finally moved me out of ICU. My mother trailed a few feet behind them, like the second thought she’s always been to my father. One look at the both of them and I can tell they’re still carrying on with their affair. Fucking sick.

  Thankfully, they left in fewer than twenty minutes. Dr. Marcus kicked them out. If anyone missed the anger on my face when they came in, the loud and erratic beeping on the monitors attached to my chest made it very clear.

  When I first woke up three days ago, I wasn’t aware of what was going on. I have fragmented images, more like a dream than a memory, a result of my concussion.

  I remember following a driver who was swerving in and out of his lane. I remember putting the lights on the cruiser and pulling the driver over and telling him to stay in the car. He was high on some fucked up shit . . . then a huge guy tackling me, falling down, the sound of cracking bones, pain, loud pops so close it hurt my ears, the taste of blood, and getting dizzy. Sirens, someone
telling me to hold on, then nothing.

  The chief visited while I was in ICU and filled me in on what’s missing from my memory based on what the other guys told him. The suspect got out of his car and attacked me, knocked me down. I hit the ground hard enough to break my arm and nearly crack my head open. He had a handgun, luckily for me, a small-caliber one. He was able to squeeze off a few rounds. Two hit me, and the Kevlar vest took the rest and saved my life. I can go home tomorrow. I have to take it easy for a while, look into some physical therapy for my arm, but I’ll make a full recovery. The perp survived the shots he took. He’ll go to trial for attempted murder, among other felonies.

  I haven’t seen Steven or any of the other cops I usually work with. Being in the ICU has kept them out—the hospital can’t have every cop in town trying to visit. They usually have a chain of command setup. One or two guys come in and pass information along. In our station, the chief is the one who does the rounds. But now that I’m in a private room, I expect they’ll come once visiting hours start later this morning.

  I wasn’t supposed to be working that night. If I hadn’t caught Skye cheating on me, I would have been in her bed, safe in her arms. Instead, I’m stuck in a hospital and my father thinks he can start right where we left off. I’d rather get shot again than go anywhere near my father and Amanda.

  I don’t blame Skye, even as part of me rationalizes all the steps that brought me to this moment and loop back to Skye cheating on me. I have to take responsibility for the part I played. I was hungover, tired, and distracted. I didn’t follow protocol. I put myself in danger. It’s all on me.

  I have to tell the hospital I don’t want them coming back to see me. My father didn’t even ask how I felt. He didn’t ask me anything at all. He just went on and on about the business and that as soon as I was released, we’d go back to Connecticut and leave the playing at cop foolishness behind. I feel bad for my mom, though. She’s just a puppet in his hands. I don’t understand why she stays with him. I’m getting tired again, and my eyes close.

  The hustle of feet by the door drags me back from the claws of sleep. It's too early to be a visitor and the nurse just left. I keep my eyes closed, ignoring whoever is in the room now. I’m hurting, but the physical discomfort is nothing compared to the pain of betrayal. My mind got a break for a few days. Getting shot will do that to you. An occupational hazard, you could say. But now that I’m out of the woods and the doctors guarantee I’ll be fully recovered and able to get back to work in a few months, my OCD brain goes back to obsessing over Skye and Bruno.

  The squeaky sound of sneakers on cheap linoleum comes closer and stops at the foot of my bed. I keep my eyes closed in the hope that whoever this is, they’ll go away. I’m in no mood to see or talk to anyone.

  “She didn’t cheat on you.”

  What?

  The.

  Actual.

  Fuck.

  Is this for real?

  My drugged-up brain must be playing a trick on my ears, but that voice, the voice I just heard, the words, it sounds just like Fuck Buddy. And if it's him standing right here, right now, well, it's probably a good thing we’re in a hospital because he’ll need it.

  I open my eyes.

  It is him.

  My jaw locks so tight, my teeth hurt.

  “Get out,” I growl at him.

  “She didn’t cheat on you. You must know that. Skye does not have it in her to ever cheat on anyone. Much less you. She loves you.”

  “She has a funny way of showing it.”

  “She didn’t. You have to believe it—”

  “I believe what I saw with my own eyes. The two of you were sleeping together in her bed, nearly naked.”

  “Nothing happened.”

  “No, I’m sure it didn’t. Did she send you here to try to convince me you two have not been fucking behind my back all along?”

  “No, she has no idea I’m here. River called me yesterday. I didn't know about what happened to you. I was giving Skye a little space and time to stop hating me. Nothing happened that night or any other time before. We really are just good friends.”

  “Good friends who sleep together. Oh, wait, there is a name for that—fuck buddies. Save it and get the hell out of here before I fuck you up.”

  The asshole laughs. He actually laughs.

  “Oh, the irony. I’d take you up on that offer, but I’m in a relationship and Skye would be none too happy. Well, at least I was until that night. We broke up.”

  “You’re not making any sense, kid.”

  “I was dating someone for a few years. I got dumped. That’s why I was over at her place that night. I was upset and needed to talk. Skye is my best friend, and I needed her.”

  “Couldn’t be that upset if the first thing you do is go fuck your best friend.”

  “You’re not getting it, are you?”

  “Oh, I get it, all right. Skye sent you over here to try to persuade me to take her back. It’s not going to happen. I could have forgiven her anything, except this.”

  “I didn’t fuck Skye. Not that night, not ever. In fact, I’ve never fucked a girl. A couple of boys, yes, but no girls. Ever.”

  “What?”

  The painkillers must be playing games with my ears. Did I hear him right? No girl? Ever?

  “I’m gay, stupid! That’s what I’ve been trying to say. I’m gay, queer, I play for the other team. I’m a fag, get it?”

  Something akin to hope dares flash in my chest, but I shut it down. I can’t trust it. I can’t believe it.

  “You’re just saying that to try to convince me to forgive her.”

  “Jesus! What do I have to do to prove it to you? Bend over your hospital bed and have someone fuck me in the ass?”

  “That might do it,” I sneer at him.

  “Well, I can’t because my boyfriend got tired of waiting on me and gave me an ultimatum. Either come out of the closet or break up. I couldn’t come clean. Not yet. It’s . . . complicated.”

  His voice trembles, and he breaks eye contact for the first time. There’s a flash of pain and despair in his eyes, but it's gone a moment later.

  “If that is true, why wouldn’t Skye tell me so herself?”

  “Because she made a promise she’d never tell a soul, and she’s loyal to a fault. Not even River knows I’m gay.”

  His eyes drop to the floor, and he closes them for a long moment. When he looks back at me, the sheen of unshed tears shines in them.

  “I’m a coward, and because of it, I lost the man I love and Skye lost hers. It might be too late for me. Sidney won’t wait for me. He made it clear, but it's not too late for you and Skye. What you two have is special. Everybody can see it. Don’t make the same mistake I did.”

  “I didn’t make a mistake. I didn’t cheat. If she cares so much, where is she now? Why didn’t she come to see me?”

  “She did. Skye has been here every day since she first heard about you. She spent hours in the waiting room. She almost missed her finals to be near you. River had to drag her to class to take the tests and back home to shower and eat, and then she’s right back here again. You were in the ICU until now, and your father said family only and prohibited them from letting her near you. He threatened to sue the hospital if anyone talked to her.”

  My fucking father. It sounds like something he’d do, all right. I’m still not ready to give in.

  “I don’t remember being related to you, and here we are.”

  “It’s a lot harder to get into the ICU. But here, they’re a lot more relaxed. My name is not on the blackout list. Pat’s sister helped me, and technically, I’m visiting the napping little old lady next door.”

  Anger and hope war in my chest. I can feel my heart picking up speed. Bruno glances at the monitor next to my bed.

  “And she couldn’t get Skye in? Why should I believe anything you say? If she wanted to see me so badly, she’d be here and not send you to make up stories about being gay.”

&n
bsp; “How many times do I have to say this? Skye has been here every day, but after meeting your fiancée, the one you forgot to tell her about, she kept out of sight. It seems you failed to mention that to Skye. Imagine her surprise when she met the future Mrs. Logan Cole.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  I ask, but I already know what he will say. Had Skye run into my parents and Amanda?

  “Oh, you know. The other blond, blue-eyed girl you’re fucking. Does the name Amanda ring a bell at all?”

  “She’s not my fiancée. She was my girlfriend, but we broke up four years ago.”

  “Well, that’s not the impression Amanda gave. And that was a nice big rock on her finger. Didn’t strike me as your taste, though. It was a little garish.”

  “She’s not my fiancée,” I repeat.

  “When Skye came in with River, the day you got shot, your parents were here with your fiancée, and Amanda made it very clear that Skye was just a little plaything and she knew about your little affair with Skye and that it was okay. She gave you permission to play around until you two get married.”

  “Fuck!”

  “I told Skye I did not believe a word of it, but I was not there to witness it, and it seems your parents corroborated the story. Skye is devastated, but she didn’t leave. She stayed in the waiting room.”

  “Jesus, I had no idea. No one told me anything.”

  I have no words for this mess. I feel responsible. If I had waited and heard Skye out. If I was paying more attention and not distracted by my anger. If I had not taken the extra shift. All those ifs could have resulted in a different outcome.

  “Let’s just say that not too many people here are very fond of your family and fiancée.”

  “Would you stop saying that? She’s not my fiancée. She never was. We dated for a long time and one day, she showed up with a ring and said she was sending me the bill for her engagement ring. I went along with it. And yes, I feel really stupid. I was young and under a lot of pressure. That is my only excuse.”

  “Someone should give her an Oscar then, because the woman can be very convincing.”