Page 65 of Fighting Fate (Granton University 1)

“Oh my God.” Heart pitching into his knees, he gulped. “Are you okay? What happened? Were you in an accident?”

He reached out before he could stop himself. But Paige cringed away, and he immediately jerked his hand back before touching her.

“I’m fine,” she said and shook her head. “It’s fine.”

Logan opened his mouth to once again ask what had happened but the dark, warning glance she shot him said everything. This hadn’t been an accident. His sympathy tumbled into blank shock, then outrage. He snapped his mouth shut.

But he couldn’t stay silent. “How many times has he done this?”

Paige took a deep breath as if she needed to calm herself before answering. “Look, nothing happened. Yes, he had a bottle in his hand. Yes, he was drunk, and we were arguing. But he didn’t mean to hurt me. When he swung around to face me, I-I was standing too close, and the bottle cracked me in the jaw. That’s all.”

“So, it was an accident,” he bit out, not believing her at all. To have enough force behind a swing to break skin could not be an accident. “Just like the first time, huh?”

When he reached for her arm to remind her of the crescent-shaped scar on her shoulder, she yanked away and glowered at him. “I told you it’s fine.”

“Fine?” he repeated incredulously before growling out his frustration. “Do you hear yourself right now? Do you even understand what you sound like?”

“Yes,” she hissed and glanced away. “I sound like a battered daughter trying to make excuses for her abusive, alcoholic father and deny that there’s any kind of problem. But I’m not! Those were the only two times anything has ever happened. And I swear to you, they were both complete accidents. No, our relationship is not perfect, but my father does not beat me. Okay?”

He stared out at her a moment longer before he blew out a hard breath. “Okay,” he said. But his body still shook with the need to seek vengeance.

How could anyone hurt her? Accident or not, he wanted to find her father and beat him senseless. He wanted to—

Catching his breath, Logan ran a trembling hand over his hair. He hadn’t wanted to hit anyone for three years. The thought of physical violence against another member of her family nauseated him.

Stomach heaving, he turned his back to her and sucked in an icy cold breath through his teeth. “I don’t know where Jamie is,” he said, somehow stepping away from the situation and trying to ground himself in the reason they were actually here. “Should we go ahead and go inside?”

Paige nodded, looking relieved. “Yes. Probably.”

He stepped toward the glass door until it automatically slid open. When he stood aside, letting her precede him into the clinic, Paige murmured a surprised thank you and brushed past, her posture rigid and stride stiff.

He followed her, wanting to beg her forgiveness for his reaction to her bruise, though he wasn’t sorry in the least. He still wanted to hurt her father. But he couldn’t handle her being so formal and rigid with him. But Lordy, she smelled good. Cinnamon and vanilla and pure Paige. Keeping just enough distance so he couldn’t drive himself crazy inhaling any more of her heavenly scent, he paused when she did as they reached a nurse’s station.

An attendant in bright blue scrubs glanced up from checking a monitor and eyed them curiously. “Can I help you?”

Logan shoved his hands into his back pockets while Paige spoke up. “Yes. We’re with the Granton University grief group to meet with some patients in the children’s ward.”

“Oh.” A welcoming smile spread across the nurse’s face. “You’re just in time. They’re already in the playroom, waiting for you.”

As she moved out from behind the counter, Paige glanced hesitantly toward Logan. He cleared his throat and turned to the nurse. “Um, excuse me. But what exactly are we supposed to do?”

The nurse shrugged, her grin amused. “Just…entertain them. It doesn’t matter, really. They love any kind of company.” She moved off, hurrying down the hall before either Logan

or Paige could ask anything else.

Paige looked up at him, her eyebrows arched in question. “I guess we’re just supposed to entertain them, then.”

“Entertain them,” he repeated. “Right.”

Looming large and awkward beside Paige, Logan shifted his weight from one foot to the other in the middle of the children’s ward playroom. A roomful of small, expectant faces peered up at him, assembled in a half circle around them. About a dozen sat cross-legged on the floor while another half dozen watched him from wheelchairs, and two more from beds they’d been rolled in on.

None of them had hair.

He gulped, certain he was going to mess this up no matter what he did. “Uh…hi, everyone.” He made a big, slow wave, only imaging how lame he must appear. “I’m Logan.”

“And I’m Paige,” she chirped with a bright, cheery smile.

He sent her a brief, grateful look, glad someone else was there to bumble through this with him.

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