Page 6 of About to Fall

"Where did you even meet this guy? On the street?"

"Over at the community kitchen—at St. John's."

"The soup kitchen?"

"Yes. I volunteered with Craig and Karen tonight."

"And now he's moving in here?"

"Yes, he is. He's got a phone, and I showed him the landline that he can use anytime."

"How does somebody like that pay for a phone?"

"I don't know, Claire. But I trust him, or I wouldn't have brought him here. I told him he's free to leave whenever he wants. I locked the deadbolt, but all he has to do is call me. The room's only open as long as he isn't using any more drugs. I can't be put into another situation like Derick."

"You said after Derick that you were only going to have women up there from now on. Papa told you to turn it into an office."

"He teases me about that, but he knows I'd never do it. This room is special to me, baby. I stayed in there myself when I first came to Seattle."

"I know that, Birdy, but that doesn't mean you have to let other people do it."

"Well, you're right, and you're a smart young lady, and I'm proud of you. But I like Logan, and he's going to be in there for a while. At least I hope he is. I don't know how he ended up on the street at such a young age, but we just need to pray for him, baby. That's why I didn't want you and Max going out all night."

"We aren't going to end up like that," she said. "I'll tell Max to call you about that guy, but I don't know if he has much practice with drugs and stuff."

"He's doing his residency at the ER," Rita said. "They have to deal with everything over there. I'll talk to him, though. If he can't do it, I have a couple of other favors that I could call in."

They walked away, and Logan stood there without knocking on the door. He almost picked up the phone and called Rita to say that he wanted out, but he changed his mind.

Moments after Rita and her granddaughter left, Logan began to feel a severe upswing in his physical symptoms. He had been sleeping for a long time, and his body was past the point where it needed alcohol. He felt a sudden rush of cold sweats, and his stomach turned, causing a wave of nausea. He hurled himself to the toilet, and hovered over it, expecting to throw up any second.

***

The space of time after Rita locked the door seemed like an absolute eternity to Logan. Those hours might as well have been ten lifetimes with how miserable he was.

Every second was full of pain and misery.

It was worse than being dead.

Logan wished he was dead many times.

All through the night, he was drenched in sweat and crying out silently in anguish. He tried fifty times to jiggle the door handle, only to remember that it was locked from the outside.

He finally gave up and called Rita, and she said she'd be back to check on him within the hour. He was lying lifelessly on the bed when she came in.

In a feverish moment during the night, Logan had shed his clothes, and he was sprawled out on the twin bed in such a way that his long legs were hanging off of the side and bottom. He moaned when he heard them come in.

"I'm dying," he said. "I want to die. I need medicine or a drink." He turned his head and peered out of barely open eyes. "Help me," he said.

Logan's heart sped up when he realized that there were other people in the room. He experienced a wave of adrenaline that caused him to sit up and scramble to the corner—at the head of the bed.

The blonde. She had golden hair that was long and hung over her shoulders. She looked like she belonged on a beach in California and not in the cloud-covered city of Seattle. She was so beautiful that it was supernatural—it cut through the sickness and pain. For a second, Logan stared at her and he was transported to somewhere else besides his painful existence.

And then it hit him—a terrible wave of nausea.

Logan barely made it to the toilet in time.

"He might need to go in," the guy said. "He probably needs an IV, and don't touch him, he might have transmissible diseases.

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