Page 88 of We Were Something
Logan is facing something that is probably his worst nightmare. The best thing I can do is focus on making his life as easy as possible right now, whatever that looks like. If feeding his mom’s cat and grabbing a few things from her house will alleviate some of his stress, I can do that.
If being nice to his bitchy ex will make it easier for him to deal with everything, I can do that, too.
This isn’t about me. It’s about Logan and being here for him on his hard days, regardless of what that looks like for me.
CHAPTER17
LOGAN
I stare through the glass wall, wondering how the hell we all ended up in this place. Wondering what possible destiny or karmic consequence could have led to this outcome.
To my mother fighting for her life in the ICU.
Her body is here, feet away from me, but her mind?
We won’t know until she’s well enough to breathe on her own.
Ifshe wakes up.
Right now, she has a machine breathing for her. Giving her the oxygen she needs to stay alive. To keep her organs from failing. To keep her from flatlining.
Extraordinary measures. It’s the term we use when we talk about keeping patients alive if their bodies wouldn’t be able to make it on their own.
Intubation. Ventilation. Defibrillation.
I’ve seen it all.
But never on someone I love.
That all changed last night.
By the time I got here, Mom was already in surgery. Her doctor said she had abdominal trauma and they were operating due to internal bleeding around her heart and lungs.
She has other injuries, too. A broken wrist. Lacerations on her face. Things they’ll probably focus on once she’s stable and can go in for another surgery.
Because right now, she’s not stable. She’s on a ventilator because she’s not able to breathe well enough on her own.
So for now, it’s all a ‘wait and see’ kind of game.
I’ve had these conversations with my patients’ parents. Telling them it will be several days before their children wake after they’ve gone through an intensive surgery, or reminding them that energy levels are significantly diminished following trauma.
It’s different standing here on the other side of the glass, watching her chest move up and down because of a machine and a tube that’s been shoved down her throat.
My phone buzzes in my hand and I glance down, seeing a message from Paige saying she made it to my mom’s house.
Just yesterday morning, I was sleepily making love to her for the first time. Now I’m standing in a hospital ICU while she digs around for pajamas and feeds my mom’s cat.
How the fuck did I get from there to here?
I close my eyes and allow my head to dip forward, resting on the glass window. Giving myself just a moment to escape back onto the boat with Paige, to our magical morning together.
It came out of nowhere—the sex. I’m not entirely sure I was ready for it to happen. I mean, we haven’t been together for that long.
But in the early morning and pressed against her naked body, both of us warm and sleepy, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Like breathing.
It doesn’t hurt that it was the most amazing sexual experience of my life, not that I’ve had many. The two women before Jen, and then the past two decades with my ex-wife.
Still. It was phenomenal. Earth-shattering. Everything I could have imagined and more. All the things I thought sex was supposed to be like when I was young.
