Page 108 of Because of Logan

My eyes find River. She’s crying, her eyes are red, her hair in disarray.

“He’s alive, Skye. He’s in surgery. That’s all I know.”

Air, glorious air, reaches my lungs, and I suck in one breath after the other, no longer drowning. River’s words are a lifesaver. I hold on to them with everything I have.

I have to blink several times until I can see her face clearly. My cheek still stings.

“He’s alive?”

“Yes, he is, but it’s bad, Skye. We have to go. Let’s go to the hospital.”

Some of the numbness eases off.

“Did you slap me?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, but I had to. You’re hysterical, and I didn’t know what else to do. Come on, put some shoes and a jacket on and let’s go. I’ll drive us to the hospital.”

* * *

On the wayto the hospital, River tells me what she knows. She went to Pat’s to get us breakfast and Pat told her. Pat’s sister is a nurse at the hospital, and she was working when Logan was admitted. Logan was shot while trying to arrest a guy high on drugs and alcohol, and he’s in surgery. That’s all the information Pat’s sister could provide. They’re both friends with Logan’s grandparents and saw him grow up. I know Pat is fond of Logan, but I never realized how close they were. River doesn’t know when it happened.

We walk up to the information desk in the ER. The lady behind the desk moves at molasses speed. I can barely contain myself. River holds my hand and squeezes it.

“Excuse me, we want to check on the status of a patient.” River is all business and authority. The lady takes us in and shuffles closer. The nametag on her scrubs saysJoanne.

“Yes, how can I help you?”

“We need to know about a patient who was brought in today or last night. His name is Logan Cole.”

“Are you family?” she asks.

I freeze, but River just goes on.

“Yes, she’s his girlfriend.”

I flinch at the word. I’m not. I’m no longer his girlfriend, but if a lie will get me information on him, I’ll be his grandma, for all I care.

The lady looks nervous all of a sudden and looks behind us at where a few people are seated in the small waiting room.

She whispers, “I’m sorry, did you say girlfriend?”

“Yes,” River and I reply at the same time.

She presses her lips together as if trying to figure what to say next. She continues in a low voice, intended only for us.

“I’m sorry, but information can be released to family members only, but the people in the waiting room behind you are related to the patient. His parents, and”—she takes a deep breath—“and his fiancée.”

“What?” River’s voice sounds loud in the quiet space.

I look over my shoulder, seeing the faces this time. An older couple, the lady in her forties, the man late fifties, and a woman in her late twenties. The woman is breathtakingly beautiful. And she looks at me like I’m something she wants to scrape off the bottom of her very expensive shoes.

I whisper back to River while the lady behind the desk watches us.

“That’s his ex. They broke up over four years ago.”

“You know her?”

“I know of her.”

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