Page 56 of Stitch & Steel
Because she was one of theirs.
Because Logan made her one of his.
A lump formed in my throat.
The door opened and a man in a white coat stepped out. The doctor. Early forties, salt-and-pepper hair, clipboard in hand.
I stood so fast the coffee almost spilled. Logan’s hand was suddenly on my back, grounding me.
“She’s stable,” the doctor said gently. “Slight dehydration, mild hypothermia, and we sedated her to help her rest. No injuries, thank God.”
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
“But,” he added, glancing between us, “this isn’t the first sign of advanced memory loss, is it?”
My lips parted, but no words came.
“We’re seeing confusion, wandering, time displacement—clear signs of progressing Alzheimer’s,” he continued gently. “It’s time to consider next steps. She can’t live alone anymore. Or drive. I know this is a lot, but safety has to come first.”
I felt Logan stiffen beside me. His hand squeezed my waist.
The doctor glanced toward the door. “She should wake in a few hours. I suggest having a calm, honest conversation when she’s lucid.”
I nodded slowly. “We’ll talk to her. Together.”
He gave a kind smile. “She’s lucky to have you.” Then he walked off, leaving the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air.
I stared at the floor, trying to breathe, trying to think. I’d known. Deep down. I’d seen the signs. But hearing it out loud, from someone with a clipboard and years of experience… it broke something in me.
“I thought I could handle this,” I whispered. “Thought I could keep her safe.”
Logan turned me into his chest and wrapped me up in his arms like I was made of glass and steel at the same time. “You did handle it. You came to me. You moved mountains for her.”
“She doesn’t even know what day it is, Logan.”
“She’s alive because of you.” His lips touched the top of my head. “And we’ll figure it out together, Bella. I promise.”
I blinked hard, trying to swallow the tears clawing their way up. “She’s going to hate not being able to live in her cabin.”
“We’ll find a way to make it okay.”
“I don’t even know where to start.”
He tipped my chin up with two fingers. “Start by not trying to carry it all on your own.”
His gaze held mine, steady and strong, and I realized I wasn’t just leaning on him—I was starting to fall into him. The man, the steel, the warmth beneath the kutte and tattoos. The protector. The storm I didn’t want to outrun anymore.
He tucked my hair behind my ear and gave me a soft smile. “Come on, darlin’. Sit with me until she wakes up.”
The morning sun filtered through the blinds in long golden slats, stretching across the pale hospital sheets and warming the room with a soft, forgiving light. The beeping machines were steady. Comforting. Familiar now, in a way I wished they weren’t.
Gran stirred just as the nurse was switching out her IV bag, her fingers twitching beneath the blanket.
I reached out instantly, brushing a cool cloth across her forehead. “Hey,” I whispered. “Welcome back.”
Her lashes fluttered, then lifted. Those eyes—so blue they rivaled the Carolina sky—blinked slowly as her focus sharpened on me. “Bella-bug?”
A breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding whooshed out. “Yeah, Gran. It’s me.”
