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The two of them share a long look and Logan nods. “I’m ready for my shift.”
“Got yourself figured out?”
“Enough.”
Great, they’re speaking in code. “English, boys. Preferably full sentences with nouns and verbs. They teach it in school. Every year. No matter how much it blows.”
Isaiah’s mouth twitches up as he lifts his chin at me in goodbye, I repeat the gesture back, and he leaves me and Logan alone.
Logan raises his eyebrows at me and there’s that condescending, piss-ass expression on that handsome face that draws me in. For the first time since I was wheeled out of Recovery, I feel the first spark of energy that’s a semblance of me.
“You had a stuffed Barney.”
Fucking purple dinosaur. I should never have kept the singing menace or the picture of me holding him on the fridge. “It’s all lies. It was forced upon me in a moment of weakness.”
Logan pulls the chair Linus had sat in toward the bed and drops into it. “Have you slept?”
“I’ve been trying to stay awake.” It’s killing my pride to rely on Logan. To rely on anyone. “She okay?”
Logan grants me the decency of not dragging it out. “Yeah. She’s good. Alzheimer’s?”
“Yep.” And it feels like I should say something else. Something momentous. Something insightful. “It sucks.”
He readjusts the baseball cap on his head and leans forward to rest his arms on his knees. I hate that I made the two of us serious, but guess that was unavoidable.
“Thank you.”
Logan lifts his head and those gorgeous dark eyes land on me. Deep pools of warmth. “I’ve got a million questions.”
And I have no answers. “I’m tired.”
“I know.” The bags crackle as he peers into them. “Rachel and I went to the store and bought you some stuff. PJ’s, toothbrush, hairbrush. Other personal stuff. Rachel bought you a crossword book, but I thought you’d like sudoku.”
My throat tightens and I have to physically shift to get my emotions in check. Damn getting shot making me damn emotional. “You’re not going to ask?”
Logan pauses with the bag still open. “Yeah, but not now.”
I wish he could crawl inside my mind and understand how grateful I am, but my mind’s a frightening place, the playland for fallen angels so he’s safer away from me. “You’re in danger.” Because that’s a way to say thank you.
Logan doesn’t flinch, doesn’t shout how or why, doesn’t react much. Just does that indifferent stare that causes the wild in me to grin. God, he really is crazy and I hate that I like him so much.
“I’m serious,” I say. “And while I’m on subjects of serious, what the hell were you thinking running after me? You should have done what I said, and stayed in your truck.”
“Abby,” he says slowly.
“Yes,” I mimic his tone, even trying to throw in his slight country twang.
That grants me an amused glint. “Thought I made it clear. We’re not talking about it now.”
I raise an eyebrow, trying to decipher his game, but then decide I’m too tired to overly care. “Fine.”
“But before we completely drop it—”
I roll my eyes, because here we go...
“How am I in danger? Did he see me?”
Logan doesn’t have to mention he’s asking about the guy who shot me. “I don’t know. We don’t think so. Word on the street is that they know there was a witness, but they don’t know who. Can you describe him to me?”
