by Kat Bastion
“We’ve got a party to plan.”
Kiki…
By midday Thursday, chaos had officially erupted.
A landscape architect surveyed the space.
Electricians stood on ladders, splicing wires.
The caterer unloaded samples of hors d’oeuvres.
“Dino’s a go!” Darren collided into my side then pulled me into his arms.
“He’s coming? That’s wonderful!” I kissed him, but my gaze locked on to the newest guy to invade my private space. Wearing a vintage Orange Crush T-shirt and tattered jeans, he methodically tested each chair and table in my courtyard for stability.
“Hey!” I shouted as he carried away two chairs from different sets. “Those are staying!”
Kristen appeared by my side. “They’re going. We’ll put them in storage until after.”
“No.” I pushed out of Darren’s hold and followed my chairs. “They’re not leaving.” All I could imagine was my prized garage-sale finds suddenly disappearing.
“We can’t have guests sit on collapsing rust-buckets.” Kristen jogged ahead, then stood in my path with a held-up hand. “In the back of your warehouse, then?”
“I don’t want strangers traipsing through my house.”
She arched a brow. “In two days, guests will be traipsing through your house…to use your bathroom.”
I let out a frustrated sigh, blowing a stray piece of hair away from my lips. “Fine. Have him leave the discards by the front door. I’ll put them back there.”
“Done.” Kristen ran after Orange Crush Guy to retrieve my confiscated chairs.
Darren’s scent and warmth wrapped around me an instant later. His arms slid around my hips, then my belly. He rested his chin on my shoulder. “You okay?”
I let out a slow breath. “Yeah.” No.
All the buzzing activity in my quiet world stressed me out. But I’d deal.
“And Dino’s not just coming, he’s playing. We are.”
“Really?” I spun in his arms. “You, Dino, and Gordie?”
“Yep.” Happiness sparkled in his eyes. “And right now, he’s spreading the word to his closest friends and connections in the industry.”
“Wow.” I blinked, then stared at the intimate space. “That sounds like a lot of people.”
He dropped a gentle kiss on my nose. “He’s only inviting art lovers who are serious collectors.”
“Oh.” I nodded and swallowed hard, hoping the party stayed under control like he imagined.
The rest of the day and Friday passed in more of the same frenzied blur.
I survived the ordeal by running. A lot.
By Friday night—T minus twenty-four hours—my modest courtyard had been shaped into a wonderland. Blooming plants with delicate foliage had been added to my raised planters. Pretty bistro sets awaited guests with white tablecloths and rose-shaped crystal tea light holders. Strands of round, clear party lights stretched above us, swaying in the slight breeze.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, leaning my head against Darren’s chest.
He squeezed my shoulder and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “Beautiful party for a beautiful girl.”
Kendall’s voice murmured in the background as she confirmed arrangements with the caterers. Kristen sat at a far table, clicking away on her tablet’s to-do list.
Cade was down at Midnight Sky Gallery with Ben, Mase, and a fifteen-foot U-Haul truck—along with IRS Agent Timothy Williams, who’d finally agreed to release my sculptures upon my providing him satisfactory ownership documentation.
All my artwork will be here.
“So…” Logan snuck between us from behind, and we widened our embrace into the three of us. “Kiki says it’s okay if I miss the party. You cool with that, D?”
He frowned down at her. “Why would you miss it?”
“It’s okay,” I assured him. Logan had privately enlisted my help a few minutes ago. “She’s got her own party to go to. One where a certain guy will be there.”
“Please, D? I haven’t ever been to a party before. Or asked you to go anywhere.”
Darren stared at me for a beat, then glanced back at Logan. On a heavy sigh, he gave a nod. “But be careful. And be home by midnight. And no drinking. And for fuck’s sake, no—”
“—condoms,” she finished for him with a soft laugh. “No sex. Got it. And not planning to.”
“Good.”
I grinned, wrapping my free arm around Logan and squeezing them both. We’d become a family of sorts, looking out for each other—loving each other.
I stared at the evidence of how much Darren loved me, the transformation of my courtyard from dull charcoal into sparkling diamond. And I relaxed on a slow exhale, warmth spreading through my chest, as I realized I’d transformed too…we all had.
Then a greater understanding hit me…
The best miracles happen when we least expect them—when we finally let our guard down.
Darren…
“It’s working.” Kiki’s amazed whisper brushed over my ear from behind.
I smiled as her hands touched my shoulders, slid forward, and wrapped around my neck. The band was on a break between sets, and I sat at an unoccupied table near the sculpture maze, observing the party.
Her lips pressed to my earlobe with a soft kiss. “Thank you. You were right.”
“Just a hunch.” An educated one. But Dino’s connections had paid off. Bigtime. I put my hands over hers, then pulled her around, tugging her into my lap. “Glad you caved?”
She nodded. “Thank you for being persistent. I’m truly grateful.” She held her hand up, then fanned her face with a half dozen checks. “These babies will pay the rent for the rest of the year.”
“That’s what I’m talkin’ about.” I’d hoped. But art, like music, was subjective.
She beamed with happiness. Then her eyes softened. “Really, Darren. Thank you. For caring enough to know when I needed help. Even when I was too stupid to realize it.”
“Not stupid. Stubborn.”
“That, I am.”
“And I won on oral arguments. Didn’t even have to pull out the big guns.”
Her breath hitched and her gaze lowered to my crotch. “And yet you did anyway…”
My lips quirked into a smug grin. “Had to seal the deal with something memorable.”
She blew out a slow breath, lips brushing over mine. “Definitely memorable.”
My phone vibrated in my back jeans pocket. I shifted her weight, then pulled it out and pressed the control button to light up the screen.
I frowned; I didn’t recognize the missed number. The phone chimed, the screen showing a new voicemail message. The phone vibrated again an instant later with another call: same number.
Curious, I answered. “Hello?”
“Is this Mr. Darren Cole?” A woman’s unfamiliar deep voice sounded over the phone.
“Yes. Who’s this?”
Kiki moved off my lap, but turned to face me, brows drawn in question.
“I’m Nurse Langston from Riverview Hospital. We need you to come down here right away.”
My heart jammed into my throat and I stood. “Logan?” I croaked out. “Is she…okay?”
The too-long pause that followed nearly brought me to my knees.
“Tell me!” Partygoer faces popped up, swiveling my way. I turned toward the warehouse, hand shaking as I crushed a fist around the phone. I lowered my voice. “You have to tell me.”
“Yes, sir. She’s alive and stable now. Please drive carefully.”
My breath shot out, temporary relief coursing through me. “I’m on my way.” I yanked my keys out of my front pocket.
In the next instant, the world spun, everything in it wrong. Dino and Gordie were gathering their instruments, prepping for the next set. People milled about. Glasses clinked. Laughter rang out.
Kiki stepped in front of me. “What’s wrong?”
“Logan. Hospital.” All I c
ould manage to spit out.
She took the keys from my hand. “I’m driving.”
“No.” I snatched them back. “I need to drive.”
“Do you even know where you’re going?”
“No.” I tossed her my phone. “Riverview Hospital.”
I began weaving through the crowd, Kiki right on my heels.
As we passed Cade, she stuffed the wad of checks into his hand. “We have to go. Logan’s at the hospital. Will you—”
“Dino—” My gut clenched. I’d convinced my new boss to come.
“Go!” Cade barked. “We got this.”
We raced to my truck. Seatbelts clicked as we jammed them shut. I had to wait for several people to move out of the way as I inched the truck backward. As soon as we were clear, I threw it into drive and squealed onto pavement. Three quick neighborhood turns, left, left, right, and we were on the highway.
Kiki gripped the overhead grab bar with one hand as she scrolled through my phone with the other. “There it is. Two more freeway exits.”
I floored it. We both leaned to one side, then the other, as I weaved through light traffic.
“No accidents would be good.” Kiki’s nervous tone broke through my mental haze.
I glanced at the speedometer.
Eighty.
Eighty-five.
Ninety.
Common sense screamed to slow down.
It took Kiki smacking a palm on the dash for my foot to finally ease off the gas.
By the time I glanced at her, she had braced her hands and feet against every available point in her corner.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” She let out a gradual breath. “I get it.”
My heart raced so damn hard, I could barely hear her past the rushing of blood in my ears.
She removed her hand from the dash once our speed dipped below seventy-five. “It’s the only control you have.”
Didn’t feel like control to me. Logan was hurt. Stable now.
Panic flooded my mind as memories of past and present blurred together: racing to the hospital on another phone call, no one bothering to tell me it had been too late. The trip to that hospital had been a formality: a way to break the horrific news.
She’s alive. I just needed to get there. Hold her hand. Assure her it would be okay.
The rest all happened in a daze. Kiki led me to the right, quickly finding a parking space. Then she told me which doors to go through. She stood by my side when the intake nurse handed me a clipboard. She held it tight when I almost flung it back at the nurse.
“I need to see her!” I shouted, desperation in my voice.
My muscles shook. Air came in short gasps. My whole body felt like it was about to implode.
When a warm hand touched my cheek, I looked down.
Kiki stared up at me, her big blue eyes reassuring. “We got this.”
I blinked heavily, not understanding. She’d repeated her brother’s words.
She gave me a light smile. “They’ll only let us back there if we’re calm.”
Calm. Nothing close to calm was even possible. But I stared at Kiki and took a slow, deep breath—let her quiet the racket in my head. Miraculously, she also slowed my rioting pulse.
When I inhaled a second time, she glanced over her shoulder at the nurse. “I’ll fill out the forms.”
The nurse arched her brows. “And you are?”
“Their sister.”
My sluggish brain processed Kiki’s lie through my fog of panic. “Sister,” I repeated.
“How they’ll let me back with you. That okay?”
I gave an absent nod and stared at the nurse, who stared at Kiki, then me.
“Please.” The one quiet word I spoke sounded exactly like the desperate plea that it was.
The nurse let out a surrendering sigh and gave us a brief nod. “Follow me.”
Automatic doors whooshed open after she punched the wall on her side of the barrier made of low desks and plexiglass windows. Sterile smells punched me in the face, bleach and antiseptic, as we walked down a white-tiled corridor. Two paramedics in navy T-shirts rushed a gurney in from a side door and chaos exploded around them, two orderlies and a doctor shouting orders and pointing toward a curtained room.
“This way.” With an arm sweep, our nurse gestured in the opposite direction of the commotion. We rounded a wide nurses’ station and passed two “rooms” before she pulled back the pale green curtain-wall of a third.
Logan.
I lunged to her side. Touched her exposed arm. Warm. She was alive. Though she didn’t look very: pallid skin, head tilted to the side, eyes shut, lips gray, plastic tube clipped into her nose.
“They’re admitting her,” the nurse commented.
“Admitting her.” Nothing made sense. I scanned Logan’s body from head to toe. Didn’t see any scrapes or bruises.
The nurse pulled the clipboard from a plastic pocket bolted to the wall, scanned the chart, then slid it back in. “She’ll be in psyche for observation.”
“Psyche?” Did they know about her depression? I struggled to connect the dots.
“Alcohol. Drugs. Then an OD on pills. They need to make sure she remains stable. Not a danger to herself.”
“What happened?” I had to know. Thank fuck she hadn’t jumped or fallen from that roof. But drugs? Pills? None of that was Logan.
“Look” —the nurse stepped between Kiki and me, lowering her voice— “I’m not even supposed to let you back here, let alone tell you all of that. The doctor’s in emergency surgery and won’t be able to talk to you until much later.”
Translation: no info.
“Her vitals are stable. She’s been given a sedative to help her sleep, and she’ll probably be out for the night. Why don’t you two fill out the forms, then go home. Get some rest. Come back in the morning.”
“No fucking way,” I growled at the nurse.
“Darren.” Kiki put her hand on my forearm.
I unclenched my fist. Then I exhaled a sharp breath and glanced at Kiki. “I’m not leaving her.”
“Then we’ll stay.” Kiki nodded to a lone blue plastic chair off to the side.
I planted my ass in it. Crossed my arms. I’d chain myself to the metal guard rail of Logan’s bed if need be.
The nurse gave a relenting nod. “Make sure I have those forms in the next thirty minutes.”
Then she left. And the general buzzing in my head faded. Sounds began to filter in from the partitioned rooms beside us.
Off in a distant part of the floor, a woman wailed. Her agonizing howls continued, making the layers of other sounds—metal clanging, wheels squeaking, automatic doors whooshing, phones ringing, dozens of conversations—background noise.
The woman’s pain was unnerving. And familiar. My mind flashed to a time when I’d been in a hospital just like this with Logan. Only then, Logan was the one crying out her pain, inconsolable. I’d held her through it. Heart shredded too at the loss of our mom, I’d stuffed down my suffering and had become the rock that Logan needed.
It all rushed back to me now. The shock of it hit me like a ton of bricks, crushing my chest, making it difficult to suck in air.
In a sudden panic, I launched up from the chair and went to her bedside. I clasped her limp hand into mine. A cord prevented me from pulling it too far from the bed.
“What is this?” I snarled, angry at the fucking world.
Kiki appeared at my side and followed my gaze to Logan’s hand. “It’s an oxygen sensor, I think.”
Looked like a white plastic clothes pin had been clipped to her finger. “How does it work?” Didn’t really give a damn, but it distracted me out of my head. And I needed out of my head.
Kiki shrugged. “Not sure.”
I stared at the red light glowing faintly around Logan’s finger and began to hate it a little less. The tubes, the monitors, they were there to keep her safe. Keep her alive.
I’d failed her. Failed
Logan. I was supposed to protect one person—and hadn’t.
My breaths grew shallow. One caught, but I forced past it, sucking in a heaving lungful of air as I stared at my baby sister’s sleeping face. I failed Mom and now Logan.
What if she doesn’t wake up? What if she can’t live a normal life? What if she’s never happy? What if she tries again? And succeeds?
“Darren.” Kiki roped an arm into the crook of my elbow.
It took several seconds for me to come back out of my head again.
“Sit.” She tugged gently on my arm. “Help me fill out this form.”
On a hard swallow, I nodded. Then I realized my face was wet. I wiped my cheeks and licked my lips. Salty.
“Fuck.” It pissed me off that I’d been crying. And in front of Kiki. “Sorry.” I sat and buried my head into my hands.
I felt her hair brush over my arms as she squatted in front of me. I didn’t move.
“It’s okay, Darren. You’re human. You love her.”
All I could manage was a weak nod.
“Now,” she continued, “Logan’s full name.”
I exhaled a long breath. “Logan Amelia Cole.”
“Date of birth.”
I rattled it off.
“Social security number.”
I leaned forward, digging my wallet out of my pocket, grateful for the mind-numbing task. And thankful as fuck Kiki was here to steer me toward it.
After we finished the forms, me answering Kiki’s questions as she jotted down answers, I signed the handful of pages and Kiki disappeared down the hall. For about ten minutes, I stayed alone with Logan, machine beeping, me breathing, our curtained room’s stable sounds what I willed myself to focus on.
When Kiki returned, she handed me a paper coffee cup while dragging in a second blue chair. Without a word, she positioned the chair beside mine, then sat with me, shoulder to shoulder.
After a while, she broke the silence, “It’s not your fault.”
“Don’t be so sure.”
She laced her fingers together with mine, then squeezed.
Odd what a powerful effect that action had. Her tiny hand. A reassuring grip with hardly any physical force. But I felt it to my bones.
After she relaxed her grip, but kept her hand securely clasped with mine, she nudged my shoulder. “You didn’t give her any of it.”