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“No, we’re just waiting.”
Jacob clamped his hand on Logan’s shoulder. “Bella’s a fighter. Don’t count her out, son.”
“No, sir.”
“Good. I’ll check back in before I leave.”
Logan swallowed back the emotions that kept rolling up like feedback in a loop. Each time it got louder. And if he didn’t get his shit under control, he was going to blow.
As Jacob left, the rest of his band arrived. The concerned faces and hushed whispers between Zeke and Christian echoed in the hallway.
“Is he okay?”
“Is Bella okay?”
“Do they know what happened?”
Logan surged to his feet. Emerson tried to catch his arm, but he couldn’t be around all these people. Not now. Not and stay sane. He held up his hand and made a left, down another hallway.
The lights were blinding and the staff were bustling between rooms. Under it all was the pervasive scent of medicine and steady compression of air machines harmonizing with different frequencies of monitors.
It climbed into his head creating a playlist that he couldn’t change. He just needed quiet. Just for a minute.
A door swung open and a woman in scrubs and full uniform of booties and mask stopped and stared. “You can’t be back here.”
“I was looking for somewhere quiet.” He fisted his hands. “I just—”
The woman sighed, then tipped her head as recognition lit her eyes. “Oh, boy.” She looked over her shoulder and seemed to be warring with herself over something then started stripping off her mask and gloves.
Logan stood still as possible. No. This wasn’t happening. He couldn’t do the fan thing. He opened his mouth, but she shook her head.
“Follow me.”
Because he couldn’t wrap his brain around any decisions right at that second, he did just that. She took a left, then a right and finally they ended up back in the main waiting room.
“Look, I appreciate the handholding here, but I needed to get away from those people.”
“I know. Have a little faith.”
He wasn’t sure that word was anywhere in his heart right now. But instead of the huge waiting area, she pushed him near the elevators and finally to a room marked with a symbol he vaguely recognized.
“Okay. This should help.”
The room was full of chairs in different sizes and a frosted glass panel etched with an intricate tree. He wasn’t exactly religious, but the calming quiet of the room washed over him.
She put her hand over his arm. “I won’t let anyone disturb you, Mr. King.”
The slice of kindness knocked the last of his resistance out from under him. He pressed a kiss on her forehead and swallowed back the sob soaking his lungs and chest.
“I’ll let the nurse know you’re in here.”
He dropped into the U-shaped chair, his fingers digging into the fabric as he lowered his head. The inoffensive beige carpeting blurred as the fear sideswiped him. He covered his mouth to block the sob, but it wouldn’t be contained.
Nichole’s face, the horrifying angle of her shoulders under the bookcase, the breath-stealing fire. Glass and wood splintered as if a Grizzly Bear-sized five-year-old had thrown an epic tantrum.
The counter-sized hole gaping out of her windows. Izzy crumpled and pinned under the one thing that may have saved her life.
The relief that Izzy had been spared.
