Page 147 of That Last Secret

Then I see the giant cast on his leg, lifted and elevated a few inches off the bed by a device hanging from the ceiling.

My gaze finally lands on his face. My hand flies up to cover my mouth as I suck in a sharp breath, still standing close to the door.

I want to run.

I want to cry.

I want to scream.

How did this happen? How did we get here? One minute, I’m telling him I love him, and the next, he’s walking out my door without another word, only to end up in a hospital bed.

I take slow, tentative steps into Logan’s room as I approach the side of his bed. My body tingles with nerves. Being here is the scariest thing I’ve ever seen. Which says a lot based on what I’ve seen working in the emergency room.

But no one prepares you for seeing the love of your life hooked to a machine keeping him alive.

“Logan,” I breathe out.

He doesn’t move. I don’t expect him to.

But one thing I learned through school is that even in a coma, the person on the other side can still hear you, even if they can’t respond.

“Logan,” I say a little louder, hoping if I say it enough, he might just wake up for me.

Nothing.

There’s a chair already on the edge of the bed, likely from one of my brothers visiting him. I round the bed, not taking my eyes off him because I don’t want to miss even a single movement he might make.

I sit down, wrapping my arms around myself.

“Why you?” I whisper. “This isn’t fair.”

Looking down at his hand resting on his side, the urge to climb into bed with him and wrap my body around him is so strong.

I reach for his hand, taking it in mine. It’s warm and soft like I remember it to be. It’s the kind of warmth that, when you touch it, provides you with a type of comfort that nothing else can.

“It’s me, Emiline,” I tell him. Even though I’m sure he knows my voice. “There’s a lot we have to talk about. I know you can’t answer right now and I don’t expect you to. The way we left things…” I swallow past the lump in my throat full of emotions. “I know that’s not the way it’s supposed to be. This isn’t the way we’re supposed to end, Logan.”

I let the tears fall and emotions emerge like a broken dam. I grip his hand with a three-pulse squeeze the way he’s always done for me and let my forehead fall to the side of his bed.

“This isn’t how we’re supposed to end. Come back to me. Come back to us. I can’t do this alone.”

I let everything out right there on the edge of his bed.

To a man who can’t say a single thing back.

“I meant what I said. I love you so much, Logan Bennett.” I cry harder. “Fucking come back to me. I’m begging you.”

I lift my head to look at his face.

Bruised and swollen to the point it doesn’t even look like him. I stand up from the chair and cup his face, pressing my lips to his forehead. Keeping them there for one, two, three heartbeats.

No response.

I fall to the chair, sitting back and just stare at him. Shifting my eyes between him and the monitor. My tears quickly turn to anger. Rage for him being in this situation.

“Come back to us!” I shout before I fall apart again.

My upper body falling over his waist.

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