Page 100 of Life After You

“Hey,” I murmur softly. June walks back into the room, tugging at my shoulder with an encouraging smile.

Mac looks surprised to see me. “Hey.”

“It’s so good to see you awake at last, angel.” I say, gripping the end of the bed to keep myself upright.

“How are you feeling, Mackayla?” June asks.

“My head hurts,” she admits sheepishly, speaking like she’s recovering from a hangover.

“Okay…what about what I said earlier. Any luck?”

Mac looks at me flatly, then back at June, slowly shaking her head. June flashes her another reassuring smile before backing up. She nudges me to move with her, but that isn’t going to happen. I’m not letting Mac out of my sight. Not now…not ever.

“Let’s see if I can grab you something for your head,” Jue says, before turning to leave. I wait until the door clicks shut before stepping closer. “I was really worried about you,” I say.

Mac’s face lights up. “That’s sweet…,” she replies. My heart swells to twice its size. Just seeing her face light up like that makes the wait worth it. She’s awake, and she’s going to be okay. “But I bet you say that about all your patients,” Mac adds, her cheeks reddening.

“Only you, angel. It can only ever be you,” I say with a wink. As I sit on the edge of her bed and move to kiss her forehead, she puts her hand up to stop me.

“Cool your jets, doc.” she says, suddenly serious. “Can’t you lose your license for doing shit like that?”

“What?” I say, confused.

“Sexual harassment…it’s serious in your profession, right?”

A feeling creeps over me, cold and paralyzing. The room tilts.

“You…you do know who I am, right? Angel?”

Her expression shifts, nervous now. “You’re a doctor.” She says slowly, securing the blanket around her. I shake my head, barely breathing. The world tilts violently beneath me, like the floors been ripped away, leaving nothing but the black abyss below. My pulse thunders in my ears, drowning out every rational thought.

No. no, no, no.

This can’t be happening.

My hands tremble as I reach for the bed, needing something—anything—to steady myself.

My angel.

My Mac.

She’s staring at me like I’m a stranger, just another face in the room. My stomach knots so tight it’s physically painful.

“Mac,” I whisper, forcing the word out through the suffocating pressure in my chest. “It’s me. Logan.”

Her brows furrows, her lips parting slightly, but there’s no recognition in her eyes. Just confusion. Wary, guarded confusion.

“I—I’m sorry,” she stammers. “Should I know you?”

Something shatters inside me. It’s not just pain—it’s devastation, raw and unforgiving. I feel it crack through my ribs, splintering into something jagged, something unbearable.

I spent weeks by her side. Held her hand. Sang to her. Begged her to come back to me. And now she’s awake, and I’ve lost her anyway.

My angel is gone.

She doesn’t even know who I am.

And just like that, every wall, every ounce of strength I’ve been clinging to for weeks, shatters.

To be continued…

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