Page 77 of Best Kept Secret
For the first time in years, she remembered me. Me. Not Levi.
A nurse walks in then, smiling at me as she moves to the side of the bed to the IV machine my mother is attached to, and I wipe my damp cheeks with my sleeve, clearing my throat again.
Another nurse walks in, and they start moving silently about the room, and I’ve been here enough to know that they’re getting ready to roll my mom as she’s not as mobile as she should be.
Standing, I lean in and press another kiss to mom’s forehead with a whispered, “I love you, Mom.” And then, nodding at the nurses, I walk out to give them some space and my mother some dignity.
It isn’t until I make it back to my car that the weight of what just happened sinks in. Sagging back against the driver’s seat, I close my eyes, gripping the steering wheel as I take a few steadying breaths. And then, bowing my head, I cry. I cry for my mom. I cry for my brother. I cry for the father I never had. But mostly, I cry for what was, and what I know will never be again.
CHAPTER 36
MILLIE
I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve checked my phone. If I had to guess, it’d be up there in the thousands. I haven’t heard from Logan all day. Not even when I sent him an SOS to tell him that Fran knows about us. I expected something. Anything to placate me. But I received nothing.
He was only supposed to be going to practice. But when I asked Fran how long Sunday morning practice usually goes for, she said it was no more than a couple of hours.
Logan has been gone all day. And not only is it now pouring rain, but it’ll be dark soon.
My worry has officially turned into panic because what if something is seriously wrong?
I stand by the big windows that look southbound over Manhattan, the entire city shadowed by the thick cover of heavy clouds, barely able to make out the Midtown skyscrapers through the rain as it pours from the looming sky.
I consider calling Happy. As Logan’s best friend, surely Happy would know where he is. But I don’t have his number. Scrolling through my phone, I consider calling Hannah because maybe she has Happy’s number, but I don’t want to come across as some stalker, needy… whatever I am. God, I don’t even know.
I hit the call button, taking a deep breath while I wait on edge for Hannah to pick up, startled by the sound of the front door slamming.
“Hey, Millie!” Hannah answers happily.
I spin around, gasping at the sight of Logan. His clothes are all wrinkled and wet, his hair damp, eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot like he’s been crying.
“Hello?” Hannah sings through the phone. “Millie, I can’t hear you.”
“H-hey, Hannah, s-sorry,” I manage breathlessly. “I’ll… I’ll call you back.” I end the call without waiting for Hannah’s reply, tossing the device onto the sofa before running across the room.
“Logan, what happened?” I cup his face gently, staring into his eyes.
“My mom’s nursing home called,” he says quietly, his voice broken, hoarse. “She was having a… an episode. They couldn’t reach my dad, so they called me, and I had to drive out there and check on her.”
I run my hand down the front of his chest, feeling just how soaked he is, wearing nothing but a hoodie and a pair of athletic shorts. My eyes bounce between his, searching. “Why are you wet?”
He sniffs and looks down, avoiding my eyes. “I stopped by and visited my brother. Sat with him for a while.”
My heart hurts at the thought that he sat by his brother’s grave in the rain and freezing cold. He’s so broken, so defeated.
“You’re shivering, baby,” I whisper, shaking my head at a loss. “Come on.”
Before he can try to argue, I snag his hand and lead him back down the hallway, through his bedroom and into his bathroom. The moment I start the shower, the room immediately heats, steam swirling through the air thick and heady and comforting.
Turning back to Logan, I hesitate before tugging at the hem of his damp sweatshirt, inching it up. Thankfully he takes over,pulling it over his head in one go and doing the same with the Thunder t-shirt he’s wearing underneath.
Meeting his eyes, I link my fingers into the waist of his shorts and underwear, pausing. “Is this okay?”
He nods, and I stare into his tormented gaze as I push them down until they pool on the floor by his bare feet.
I turn back to the shower, pulling open the glass door for him. “You hop in and I’ll go heat up some—” My words are cut short by the feel of his hand on mine, stopping me, and when I look at him, my heart slams hard against my ribs at the sheer hopelessness in his glassy eyes.
“I need you, Red,” he rasps.
