Page 61 of Speed

“Not stayin’… Logan… long.”

He smiled. “No, not for long.”

I concentrated hard. “I want to be with you.”

He kissed my nose. “And I want you.”

The door slammedopen so hard it rattled against the wall, my grandfather storming in, his face twisted in fury. My security guy gripped his arm, his expression tight, ready to remove him.

“I’m his grandfather!” he barked, his voice echoing in the sterile hospital room.

I barely had the strength to lift my hand, but I managed to nod, a silent command to let him through. Still, I gestured for security to stay close. He might have forced his way in, but I wouldn’t be alone. Not completely.

He stopped at the foot of my bed, his gaze raking over me, taking in the hospital gown, the wires, the dullness in my eyes. I could see the moment realization struck, the confirmation he was looking for settling into his rigid posture. “So, it’s true,” he said, his voice thick with disappointment.

I stared at him, waiting. For what, I wasn’t sure. Some words of encouragement? Doubtful. An ounce of concern? Even less likely. But I couldn’t force words from my throat, not when my body still felt like it was recovering from being torn apart.

His lip curled, disgust in his expression. “You’re broken,” he spat. “Worthless to me. Apparently, you’re queer? Jesus. A waste of my time.”

The words should have hurt. Maybe a few months ago, they would have. But now, they didn’t touch me, sliding off like water. I’d expected nothing more from him. Still, the venom in his voice, the sheer disdain in his eyes, twisted something inside me, a final severing of whatever fragile tie had remained.

Logan’s voice was a snarl as he stepped forward, shoving between us, rigid with fury. “You are a hateful, small, pathetic excuse for a man.”

Grandfather’s eyes flicked to him, looking quite unimpressed. “I don’t give a shit what you think. You were never the one I invested in. You were never worth the time.”

Logan let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “And look where that got you. You wasted all your time, effort, and manipulation—on what? On someone you could control? Someone you could mold into the second coming of you?”

Grandfather’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists. “I built this family. I gave him everything when your worthless excuse for a father messed everything up.”

“You used him,” Logan shot back. “You used all of us. You treat people like tools, like pawns in some game you think you’re winning, but guess what? You lost. You lost us all.”

The old man’s face darkened, and for a second, I thought he might lunge at Logan and spit more venom, but then he turned back to me. His expression was empty of warmth. “Well, you’re no use to me now.”

He turned on his heel and walked out, his steps sharp, measured, final.

The room was silent except for my ragged breathing. Logan vibrated with rage; his hands clenched at his sides. The tension was suffocating.

I swallowed and tried to force words past the tightness in my throat. “G-good riddance,” I stuttered, my voice hoarse and uneven.

Logan turned to me, his expression relaxing. He exhaled, running a hand down his face before sitting at my bedside. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Good fucking riddance.”

Noah came in, two coffees—one for him, one for Logan—and a lemon Jell-O Cup for me. My favorite flavor. Who knew I’d have a favorite Jell-O in the hospital?

“What did I miss?” he asked Logan, then stared at me. “Brody?”

“N-nothing ’portant.”

“Tell me.”

So, Logan told him, and I think he needed my hug as much as I needed his.

The next day,words made more sense in my head, and I must’ve been making sense to others because Noah was smiling a lot and tension had eased in Logan.

Avery had just left, and I was still smiling after she'd sat on my bed and told me a story.

“Do you want kids?” Noah asked when we were alone.

I turned my head to look at him, his expression open, vulnerable. “What do you mean?”

---