Perfect Love

by Trina Lane

  “Do they happen often, Logan?” Ryan asked.

  “A lot less now than when I first came home. I’ve been working with Matt for the past year and half. He’s the one who helped me get the anxiety under control and taught me the grounding techniques to pull free when it does.”

  Logan saw Rick, Conor, Calleigh and the kids come rushing into the waiting area. Rick had Brandon in his arms, Conor had Michael and Calleigh tried to control a wiggling toddler. Brandon broke free and raced towards him.

  “Uncle Logan!”

  He knelt on the floor, gathering the little five-year-old close. After a couple of seconds, he saw Michael standing right behind his brother and opened his arms, so all three of them could share the hug. Small hands grasped his cheeks. He stared into the blond hair and intelligent green eyes of Michael.

  “Don’t worry, Uncle Logan. Uncle Clay will get better.”

  “I pray so, buddy. Until then, I have you to take care of me.”

  Twin blond heads nodded in unison. Logan looked up at their parents, waiting a few steps away.

  “You all didn’t have to come, but thank you.”

  Conor stepped forward. “Yer family.”

  And that said it all in Logan’s opinion. His eyes misted over as he realised that these men and women were his family. They were united by friendship and love. When he’d first come home he’d felt alone, isolated by his hearing loss, anxiety, fear and anger. Now, he was surrounded by friends who supported each other as strongly as a platoon under fire. He’d not only found love but family.

  Rick looked at Ethan. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. I was in my office, not the courtrooms. They evacuated us out the back side of the building. We were never near the danger.”

  Ryan put his arm around his husband. “Doesn’t matter if you were on the same floor or the same block. Your safety was threatened, E. That’s unacceptable. Until we know you’re okay, we’ll always worry.”

  Ethan kissed Ryan before looking back at Rick and Conor. “I know. That’s why I love you guys.”

  “Is there a Logan Callen here?”

  Logan turned and saw a nurse in scrubs with a clipboard in her hands scanning the room.

  He stood took several steps forward. “I’m Logan Callen.”

  “Mr. Callen, please come with me. I’ll take you to meet the surgeon.” She looked at the mass of people gathered in the waiting area. “Are all these people with you?”

  “Yes, this is my family.”

  She nodded. “You can bring one person with you.”

  Logan looked behind him. He figured the obvious choice would be Matt. In case it was bad news, he would need the man’s help, but his eyes drifted to the left, and immediately, he knew his choice.

  “Trevor?”

  The younger man’s head jerked up, and his eyes widen.

  “You want me?”

  “Please. You were there in the beginning. I’d like for you to be there now.”

  Trev smiled and nodded his direction. Together, they followed the nurse behind a set of doors and into another smaller waiting area. There was a small round table surrounded by some chairs and a water cooler in the corner.

  “Dr. Clinton will be with you shortly.”

  Logan couldn’t sit and prowled around the enclosed area. Trevor slouched in one of the cushioned chairs, his presence soothing and unobtrusive. A man dressed in obvious hospital garb entered and sat at the table. He flipped through a chart in a distracted manner.

  “Please have a seat.”

  Logan complied, and Trevor moved over to the table to sit beside him.

  “I understand that you are Detective Phillips’ domestic partner. Is this correct?”

  “Yes, sir.” Logan sat as the man continued to look down at the table and scribble notes down in the chart. “Dr. Clinton? I understand you’re busy, but I would appreciate it if you could look at me when you speak.”

  The doctor looked up with an expression of vague impatience until he spotted Logan’s processors.

  “I apologise. First, let me assure you that Detective Phillips came through the surgery just fine. He should make a complete recovery. The bullet, a nine millimetre jacketed hollow point according to police, passed through his vest between his fourth and fifth rib. It nicked the top edge of the fifth rib and lodged in the middle lobe of his left lung. The projectile created a perforation in the lung and caused it to collapse. We removed the bullet and inserted a chest tube to re-inflate his lung then closed the tears. Detective Phillips was very lucky that the bullet didn’t damage his heart or any major arteries. We’ll put him on IV antibiotics and monitor him closely for infection. If all goes well, he should be released in four to five days.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Clinton. May I go see him now?”

  “He’s in recovery and should be transported to his room shortly. The nurse will tell you where to go. Do you have any other questions?”

  “No, sir, not right now.”

  The doctor nodded his head then stood. He left the room quickly, and Logan turned to Trevor. Trevor held his arms open, and Logan gratefully accepted the comfort. Before he knew it, his eyes were watering, and he struggled to control his breathing.

  “It’s okay, Logan. Clay is going to heal.”

  He nodded his head. He knew that. The tears were not of sorrow but relief. It felt as if a crushing weight had been lifted off his chest. He wasn’t going to lose Clay, like he had Adams. Clay was alive. He would feel Clay’s arms around him again, feel their lips press together. They would continue to love, deeper and stronger than before, with the second or really third chance they’d been given. He sat up and wiped his eyes. Trevor handed him a tissue conveniently placed on the table.

  “Thanks, Trev…again,” he said, smiling.

  “Anytime, Logan. Now, let’s go find your man.”

  * * * *

  Logan sat beside Clay’s bed, waiting for him to wake up. The multitude of tubes entering and leaving his lover’s body was daunting, but he kept repeating the doctor’s words in his head. Clay would make a complete recovery. Right now, his skin was pale, he was being supplied extra oxygen until his lungs could support themselves, and his normally larger than life personality was silenced by the after effects of aesthetic given during the life-saving procedure. Now, it was a waiting game. That was okay; Logan had nothing but time.

  “Hey, Logan, we’re going to take the kids home. You need anything?” Rick asked, poking his head in doorway.

  “No, thank you, Rick. Tell Conor and everyone the same. We appreciate you guys dropping everything to be here. Oh and tell the boys Clay and I will take them to the aquarium as soon as he’s better.”

  Rick smiled. “I’m sure they’ll be ecstatic. You know they love spending time with you two.”

  “I’m sure you, Conor and Calleigh appreciate the free time, too. In fact, we may just take Allanah off your hands while we’re at it. Think you three could find something to occupy yourselves for an entire afternoon?”

  Logan laughed at Rick’s expression. The longing, lust and love for his husband and wife were obvious to the most casual observer.

  “Oh I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”

  “I’ll bet. Now, get out of here. Oh wait! Is anyone else still lingering out there?”

  “Ethan and Ryan are here, but Ryan was talking about getting Ethan home. It’s been a long day. I haven’t seen your buddy Trevor or Matt for awhile.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  Rick tapped on the doorframe in goodbye, and Logan looked back at the still man on the bed. He slid his hand beneath Clay’s on the mattress and rested his chin on the plastic rail. His eyes were heavy, and it was getting difficult to keep them open. It seemed like the adrenaline that had coursed through his system throughout the day had run it course and he was about to crash. If experience was any indication it would be a hard landing. He kissed the back of Clay’s hand and placed it back on the bed, then pushed the chair into a reclining
position and closed his eyes. He would just take a little nap, recharge his batteries and be ready for when Clay woke up.

  * * * *

  It felt as if Clay’s brain was stuffed with cotton. When he swallowed, someone had implanted sandpaper in his throat, and his side burned as if all the minions of hell were having a party in his chest.

  What the fuck had happened? Clay searched his fragmented mind until his memories coalesced into a clear image. Courthouse…gunman…hostages…shots fired. Oh crap, he was shot. Why hadn’t his vest protected him?

  He tried to open his eyes, but the lids refused to obey his commands. He tried something simpler. He wiggled his finger then his toes. Well, at least, he knew he wasn’t paralysed. Then again, all the pain was a pretty good indication of that, too. Clay tried to open his eyes, this time with more success. The room was blurry, but he could definitely see the plain white walls of the generic hospital room. Hospital sounds registered, and so did the soft snuffles of someone breathing nearby. He’d recognise those sounds anywhere. Logan was with him and, by the sound of it, deeply asleep. Clay turned his head and saw Logan’s large frame curled up on the recliner next to the bed. He lay on his side facing Clay and, as Clay suspected, fast asleep. It took a lot for Logan to crash that hard. Normally, the man slept lighter than a cat, waking at the slightest noise. He still took medication to help him sleep at night since nightmares were a recurring problem.

  Clay was loathe to wake his lover but wished he could see the dark blue eyes. In their depths he could read the truth. As if a genie granted his desire, the lids opened and their gazes locked. Logan jumped up from the chair and bent over his bed. A warm hand smoothed back the hair from Clay’s forehead, and the softest, most perfect lips he’d ever tasted bestowed their welcome on his chapped skin.

  “I love you, Clay.”

  “Love—”

  God, his throat hurt, and his voice was scratchy. Logan placed an ice chip to his lips, and he opened his mouth. The cool moisture was heavenly and went a long way to soothing the burn. Something splashed on his cheek. He opened his eyes to see Logan crying. Logan had shed a lot of tears since he’d started therapy, but there was something different about the ones currently tracking down his handsome face.

  “I’m okay, honey.” He had no idea if that was true, but he couldn’t have Logan crying over him. His love had suffered enough, and Clay would not add to the demons haunting Logan’s soul.

  Logan nodded. “I know. I’m sorry. When I saw you get shot, it happened all over again.”

  Wait a minute! When Logan saw me get shot?

  “Saw?”

  Logan’s head rested in the crook of Clay’s neck, and Clay felt him nod.

  Logan fumbled with the switch to raise his back then picked up Clay’s hand resting on the bed. “Trevor and I watched the whole thing on monitors in the lab. He hacked into the security cameras inside the building. When I saw you come through the door behind the gunman, my heart crashed to a halt. I swear to God, I’d never been so scared—even in the midst of the worst fire fight I could remember. Then I saw the flash of his gun, the blood spray from your chest, and I knew it was happening all over again.”

  “What?”

  “I never told you everything about the attack that day. We were on a road in the Kunduz province. We stopped to examine a possible IED. I remember the tension in the air, and the absolute silence around us. It was too silent, so naturally my instincts started screaming that something was wrong. I lifted my gun. One of my platoon members, his name was Adams, asked what was wrong. Right before I turned to tell him something was up, I saw a reflection on the hill in front of me. The next thing I knew, Adams had a hole in the centre of his forehead and all hell broke loose.” Logan took a deep breath and looked deep into Clay’s grey eyes. “Adams was my lover. Nobody ever knew, but I knelt in the dirt and cradled my lover’s dead body while chaos reigned around us. The explosion that knocked me on my head happened while I was trying to carry him back to where the rest of our platoon was hunkered down.” Logan swiped at his damp cheeks. “When I saw you go down, it was like it was happening all over again. I went into a flashback, but instead of Adams in my arms, it was you.”

  Clay squeezed Logan’s hand. “Oh Logan, I’m sorry. Did you love him?”

  “Adams? Yes, but not the same way I love you. I loved Adams as a friend, a brother in arms, a companion, but we were never destined for one another and we both knew that. He knew from the very beginning that my heart was already spoken for.”

  Despite Logan’s casual dismissal for his feelings towards his former lover, Clay heard the heartfelt emotions behind the words. Adams had been important, and his death had hit Logan hard. Maybe harder than any other he’d had to deal with during his stint in the Army. Clay could bet there were some feelings of guilt wrapped up in the grief, and part of him wondered if Logan had ever really taken the time to mourn his friend’s death.

  Logan was Clay’s entire world, and he couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to witness an assault on the man he loved. All things considered, it was surprising that Logan hadn’t regressed to the shell of man Clay had brought home. He would have to thank Matt for teaching Logan the skills he needed to withdraw from the terror inducing visions that could command him at the drop of a hat.

  “Logan? Look at me.” Clay waited until those smoky blue eyes he loved so much met his. “I can’t promise that I’ll never die because I have a dangerous job at times. I can promise I will do whatever is within my power to protect myself. When you gave me your love, you made my dreams come true. I’ve captured perfection and have no intention of letting you go, now or in the future.”

  Epilogue

  Clay rolled over in bed. His hand stretched out only to find empty space where Logan should be. The sheets still held the lingering warmth from Logan’s body, so he knew his lover hadn’t left their nest too long ago. He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The air in their bedroom was chilly despite the heater running at full steam. He heard sounds coming from the living room and, reluctantly, left the warm covers to investigate.

  After a quick stop in the bathroom, he donned some flannel sleep pants and entered the living room to see Logan kneeling in front of the Christmas tree shaking boxes.

  Clay laughed at the childlike behaviour. Logan didn’t turn around, and it was then Clay noticed his lover wasn’t wearing his speech processors. He slipped back into the bedroom and saw them in the case on Logan’s nightstand. Normally, Logan had them on before he was completely awake. Their absence was a real testament to Logan’s sense of security and excitement of Christmas morning.

  Clay slipped the devices into his pocket and retrieved Logan’s main gift from its hiding spot in his closet. He slowly walked up behind Logan—who now stood at the fireplace, moving stuff around on the mantel—and wrapped his arms around his love.

  “I knew you were there,” Logan said, leaning back into Clay’s embrace.

  Clay attached Logan’s processors and watched as Logan adjusted them to his liking. When he knew the devices had been activated, he turned Logan in his arms and planted a good morning kiss on the pliant lips waiting for him.

  “Merry Christmas, honey.”

  “Merry Christmas, Clay. What’d you get me?” Logan asked, smiling.

  “So impatient.”

  Logan nodded, grinning from ear to ear.

  “Why don’t you light a fire, I’ll turn on the tree lights then we can sip our coffee and enjoy the snow falling outside the windows?”

  Logan huffed out a breath. “Fine, but I still want to open presents.”

  Clay was doing everything he could not to burst out into hysterical laughter at Logan’s pouting expression. He flipped the switch to the tree lights and settled on the floor next to Logan. He picked up one of the gifts he’d bought for Logan and held it out. Suddenly, he had a lapful of happy man, and for the life of him, he couldn’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be.

  Twe
nty minutes later, the hardwood was covered in colourful paper, and Logan was happily monkeying around with the binaural direct-connect cable Clay had purchased for his processors along with the iTouch already loaded with Logan’s favourites. Having a personal music device was one of the things that Logan had missed the most since losing his hearing. His speech processors were capable of independent music programmes, and now, Logan could take advantage of them.

  Clay sat on the couch sipping his coffee and, as he’d suggested earlier, enjoying the warmth from their fireplace and the picturesque snow. He had one last gift for Logan and was just waiting for the right time to present it.

  Clay’s contemplations were interrupted when Logan flopped onto the sofa beside him. He set his mug on the side table then gathered Logan against his side.

  “You happy?” he asked.

  “Yes. I have one last gift for you, Clay.”

  Clay saw the small box in Logan’s outstretched hand. It looked remarkably similar to the one in his pocket. He dug his out and held it up.

  “Imagine that? So do I.”

  Logan’s eyes widened, and the brightest smile Clay had ever seen lit up his love’s face. With childish exuberance, they both tore into the gifts. Clay’s hands shook as he lifted the lid on the small square box. Inside was a dark grey titanium band. He watched Logan open his own box. Clay had chosen one almost identical for Logan, only his had hints of rainbow red and green reflecting in the polished surface. He’d thought the faint hues would be a poignant reminder of the holiday. Their eyes met, and as one, they leant forward.

  Their lips met and their fingers locked together, the boxes in their laps forgotten as they shared a perfect moment. When they finally separated, they both spoke at the same time.

  “Marry me?”

  “Make love to me, Logan? I need to feel you inside me.”