Page 133 of Whenever You Call

Slipped spinal discs.

Possible nerve damage.

Third degree burns to his skin.

Punctured lungs.

Broken bones.

Lacerations to every part of him.

And the worst?

The swelling of his brain, keeping him on constant watch, day and night.

I didn’t understand any of it, but I understood that Logan’s life hung in the balance, and I couldn’t get close enough to him to do anything to tip it in his favor.

He’d undergone several surgeries already, and I didn’t take a breath through any of them. Not until the doctors or nurses came to me after to tell me that, for now, he remained okay.

At the end of day three, despite wanting to stay awake every second while Logan still took breaths, my tiredness turned to exhaustion, and before I knew what was happening, day three rolled into day five with nothing more than foggy memories of Livia and Bella holding onto me flitting in and out of my mind.

On day six, when I was rocked awake while lying across several chairs in the waiting area, it took me several seconds to open my eyes and register where I was and what had happened.

I sat up slowly, trying to focus. The aches in my limbs and muscles had taken over, but I pushed their presence aside, focusing on what Logan was going through instead.

A female nurse sat on her haunches in front of me, her smile flat as she waited for me to rub the sleep from my eyes and blink myself into consciousness.

“W-what’s happened? Is he okay?” I croaked, my voice having almost disappeared because of the constant crying over the last week.

“Come with me,” she said softly.

Hope made my heart gallop, and adrenaline shot through my veins like someone had injected it straight into them.

I followed her on unsteady legs, feeling the lack of food inside me finally kicking in. My lips were dry, and my head pounded with impending grief. I wanted to slay it like a dragon, but I pushed my hair and shoulders back anyway, not even thinking about how bad I smelled or how drained I looked.

The only thing that mattered now was him. I had to be strong for Logan.

When we finally made it to the doctor waiting outside a room in a long, white, echoing corridor, I looked up at her and begged for nothing but good news.

The thought of Logan being so close made my skin tingle.

You’re still here. I can feel you. I’m right here with you, too.

“Mrs. Moore,” the doctor said, holding out her hand for me to take. She was a tall, slim woman with deep brown eyes, warm brown skin, and a smile that made me believe she could save anyone from anything. “I’m Dr. Young. I’ve been overseeing Mr. Thomas’s care since his arrival.”

“I remember,” I said, my voice still rough. “Is everything okay?”

She pushed a pen into the top pocket of her white overcoat before bringing her hands together in front of her. “As good as we can make it for now but I’m a big believer in encouraging the patient to do some of the work, too.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Sometimes when a patient goes into a coma like this after an accident as serious as the one Mr. Thomas endured, they can become reliant on the doctors and nurses, as well as modern medicine, doing all the work for them. We like to give them a little nudge along the way.”

“How?”

Dr. Young glanced at the nurse beside me, who had her hand on the small of my back, ready to reach out to me if I decided to charge into Logan’s room. When Dr. Young’s eyes met mine again, she raised her brows. “There are a lot of things medicine and doctors can do, and there are a lot of things we can’t. We can heal the body, prevent pain, cure diseases, and medicine can allow us to perform certain miracles. One thing wecan’tdo is give our patients the motivation they need to do the rest of the work.”

“Are you saying Logan is beinglazy?”

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