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I nodded in agreement and then strode to my car, beeping it unlocked. As soon as I had my seatbelt on, I began making my way out of the neighborhood, heading toward the shadier part of town, my heart in my throat.
* * *
I slammed on my breaks, barely remembering to throw my car in park before I shoved open the door. I tripped over my feet, hitting the bare ground on my hands and knees. Scrambling up, I rushed to the open front door of Logan’s house. It was barely hanging on its hinges, and the house was so quiet. Too damn quiet. The tires on his car had been slashed, the frame dangerously low to the ground, and his windshield was shattered, a cement block sitting in the passenger seat.
“Logan?!” I called, rushing into the house. I gagged at the stench of shit and covered my mouth, scanning the room. I swallowed vomit at the sight of a woman’s pale body—too pale to be alive. She looked like Logan, and my heart ached for him. Because she was dead. No doubt about it.
“Logan!” I yelled again, stomping through the kitchen, my eyes scouring the small area for him. I was going to throw up. Where the fuck was he?
A sob reached my ears, and then, I heard him cry my name. My heart in my throat, my knees damn near buckling beneath me, I rushed down the hall and shoved open the door to a small bedroom that really wasn’t much bigger than the size of a closet. A twin-sized bed was squished into the corner, and a basket of folded clothes sat at the foot of the bed, squished between the wall and the mattress.
Vomit spewed from my mouth when I saw Logan. There was no fucking way I could contain it. He was on the bed on his stomach, naked, bleeding from his rectal area. Blood matted his hair, and his hands were tied to the bed frame. He sobbed again, squeezing his eyes shut, his body shaking.
Not even caring that I stepped right into my pile of vomit, I swiped at my mouth and rushed over to him, collapsing to my knees. Tears streaked down my cheeks, my hands fluttering over him. But where was I supposed to touch him? What could I even do to help?
“Let me untie you,” I croaked, finally focusing on the ropes and trying to breathe through the panic clawing at my throat. “Just hang on, baby, okay? Fucking hang on for me.” My voice was shaking, my teeth chattering. I grabbed my phone from my pocket and dialed 9-1-1 before I began to work at the rope binding his wrist with trembling fingers.
Logan just continued to cry as I relayed in a shaky voice to the 9-1-1 operator where I was, what I’d walked in on, and that Logan desperately needed help. The rope came undone just as she assured me help was on the way.
I crawled onto the bed and drew Logan into my arms, being extra careful of the bruises littered all over his body. I sobbed, snot running from my nose and sliding into his hair as I cradled him. “It’s going to be okay,” I cried, stroking my hand down his back. “It’s going to be okay, Logan.”
“H-hurts,” he sobbed. Blood coated my hand from his head wound, but I didn’t stop holding him, even if I knew I would forever see my hands stained with the rust color of his blood for the rest of my life. This scene would forever fucking haunt me.
“I know,” I croaked. “I know, baby. Help is coming. I promise.” I buried my face in his hair. “I’m so fucking sorry I didn’t come sooner.” I should have. I should have listened to my goddamn gut and come after him. I fucking knew I should have. Maybe this could have been prevented. Or at least, maybe it wouldn’t have been this damn bad. I could have come here and protected him.
Sirens suddenly began to wail in the distance. A minute later, emergency lights began to flash through the window of his room, lighting up the wall across from it. I detached myself from Logan, my heart aching something fierce when he whined, my name a low moan from his ragged, sore throat. Cupping his cheek, I brushed my lips across his, our tears mingling in our kiss. “I need to direct them back here, okay?”
He nodded and closed his eyes, slumping onto the bed. My eyes widened, and I gently shook him. “Logan?” I called. My chin wobbled. I was going to throw up again. “Logan!” I yelled, shaking him harder now. “Logan!”
“Sir, let us help him,” a kind woman said, gently urging me back. I looked at the officer through blurry eyes, a sob bubbling in my throat. She ran her hand over my hair. “Can you come with me? I promise I’ll make it quick so you can follow him to the hospital.”
Sniffling, I nodded and reluctantly followed her from the room, leaving Logan’s unconscious body in the hands of the paramedics. When I got to the living room, another paramedic was zipping his mother into a body bag.
I felt like I was on autopilot as I answered the officer’s questions. I was numb. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on. And when the officer finally let me go as they brought Logan out of his room on a litter, I realized I couldn’t recall a single second of our conversation. With shaking hands, I called a tow company to have my car towed to Spencer’s, and then, I made the hardest phone call of my life.
“Hey!” Spencer greeted, a smile in his voice. A tear ran down my cheek as I climbed into the back of the ambulance and wrapped my hand around Logan’s still one. He hadn’t woken back up yet, and I was scared. So fucking scared. “You on your way back already?”
“Spence, baby,” I croaked. I squeezed my eyes shut. “You need to get to the hospital.” I sniffled and then sobbed, hanging my head over mine and Logan’s joined hands. “It’s Logan.”
* * *
Jaxon made it to the hospital before Spencer did, and I lurched from my chair at the sight of him, tears welling in my eyes. I’d been numb since they took Logan into the back, forcing me to wait in the waiting room. But the sight of someone I knew I could lean on had me coming undone again.
Jaxon immediately marched over to me, a stormy, worried expression on his face. I broke down all over again, and he wrapped me in his arms, squeezing me to him. “He’s hurt badly,” I cried.
Jaxon rubbed my back. “Just breathe, you hear me?” Releasing me, he nodded toward the chair I’d been sitting in. “Logan has me listed as his emergency contact. I need to go find out what’s going on.”
I didn’t even have time to sit back down before Spencer rushed into the emergency room waiting area just as his dad walked off to the receptionist’s desk. Spencer sprinted to me, his eyes bloodshot, his nose red. He crashed into me, and I stumbled, wrapping my arms tight around him as I fell back onto a chair.
“What happened?” he cried, his fingers sliding into my hair and clinging tightly, sobs wracking his body.
I swallowed thickly, shakily running my fingers through Spencer’s hair. “I think he was raped,” I croaked. Spencer wailed into my neck, fucking tearing my soul apart. “Your dad will know more as soon as he can talk to a doctor or a nurse.”
Spencer’s sobs wracked through him, shaking his shoulders, and he collapsed against my chest, wails spilling from his lips. I rocked him, burying my face in his hair as we fell apart together. Shelby silently took a seat beside us, and she grabbed my hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze before she dropped her hand back to her lap so I could hold Spencer with both of mine.
Jaxon walked over to us, sadness ringing in his eyes. He drew in a deep breath. “Let’s go outside,” he said quietly.
Spencer stood from my lap, his legs a little shaky. I grabbed his hand in mine and stood. Shelby waved us off when I turned to look at her. “This is a family matter,” she told me quietly. “I’m just here for support.”
