I roll my eyes at my reflection and trudge out into the bedroom.
Master Niall is sitting on the edge of the bed, texting, but he looks up and gives me a tired smile when I emerge from the bathroom. He holds his arm out. I sink onto the bed next to him and let him hug me.
“Shaan and Vashi’ll be here a little after noon. D’yeh want some breakfast before we go to the hospital?”
I shake my head. I can’t even contemplate eating.
“I won’t force yeh to eat before we see Logan, but yeh will eat at least two meals t’day, Emily,” he says, giving me a stern look.
Pushy Dom. I don’t object. I can’t imagine anyone taking as good care of me as Niall has. I know Logan would have done the same thing if the tables were turned, but that doesn’t lessen how grateful I am to Niall. “Yes, sir.”
“Ah’right. Cab’s on the way. We’ll check out and yeh’ll spend the night at ours t’night.”
I don’t remember where Niall, Shaan, and Vashi live. Vashi mentioned it, I think. Every thought beyond seeing Logan has gone straight out of my head.
“C’mon, storeen, let’s get yeh to yer daddy. It’ll be ah’right.”
He’s promised me that a hundred times. Maybe two hundred. Maybe a thousand. I’ve lost count. It doesn’t matter how often Niall says it. Until I see Logan awake, until he can talk to me and I know he’s okay, no one’s assurances mean anything and nothing else matters.
Niall keeps up a one-sided conversation as we check out, find our cab, and wind our way through the beige and white corridors to the critical care waiting room. A nurse behind a glass window takes our names and consults her computer screen.
“James Logan hasn’t been moved up from the ICU yet,” she tells us.
Fear makes my knees so weak, I have to grip the ledge of the window to remain upright. Niall slides his arm around me and pulls me tight to his side.
“Is he worse?” I ask, forcing each word around the broken glass filling my throat.
“I’ll have a doctor come speak to you, if you’ll take a seat?” She gives us a wide, fake smile that has me clutching at Niall as he steers me to a row of plastic chairs.
Niall rubs my back as we sit and wait. No doctor comes for what feels like forever, but it’s only fifteen minutes by the clock on the wall, which must be broken. It’s at least five years, while my eyes prickle and my palms grow clammy and my head pounds.
Finally, a woman in blue, surgical scrubs comes and sits down next to me. “Emily Martin?”
I nod.
“I’m Dr. Lacey. I assisted with James’s surgery and I’ll be his treating physician until he’s released.”
“Is he-he’s going to be released?”
“Yes, in a few days. His surgery was successful as Dr. Watts told you last night. He regained consciousness this morning but he’s very disoriented and aggressive, so he’s been restrained. It can be distressing to see a loved one restrained, so I’m not allowing him visitors while he’s in the ICU. This kind of disorientation usually passes within a couple of hours. Once it does, I’ll have him brought up and you can see him.”
Restrained? Oh, no.
“Is he speaking?” I ask.
“Yes. He knows who he is and that he’s been injured. He’s asked to speak with you and a number of other people.”
“Can he have his phone?” I ask.
“Not while he’s restrained.”
Daddy, poor Daddy. He’ll be going crazy.
“Is there any way I can see him? He might, um, he might be aggressive because he’s worried about me.”
“He has asked about you a number of times. He seems very concerned about your safety.” The doctor’s dark eyes flick from my face to Niall’s arm around my shoulders. “Are you in any danger, Miss Martin?”
“Me? Oh, no. Logan’s just very protective of me.”
Dr. Lacey nods. “Do you think seeing you will calm him down?”
“Yes.” Please, God, let seeing me calm him down. I can’t stand the idea of Logan being hurt and restrained.
“Have you ever seen anyone restrained before?”
More often than I could possibly explain to this woman.
Beside me, Niall grunts. “She’ll be fine. She’s a tough little ‘un.”
I stretch my arm around Niall’s broad back and give him a squeeze.
“Okay. Miss Martin, if you’ll come with me?”
I give Niall a grateful smile. When he releases me, I shiver at the loss of his warmth, even though the whole hospital is warmer than an August day back in Syracuse. I haven’t been able to get warm since I saw my daddy lying on the floor in a puddle of his own blood.
I wrap my arms around myself and follow Dr. Lacey through the beige and white corridors. As she leads me down two flights of stairs, I feel like I’m descending into a prison. Is this where they’re keeping my daddy?
The corridors are quiet. Occasionally, a soft-footed nurse appears and disappears ahead of us. Other than footsteps, there’s no noise. Shouldn’t there be noise? Machines pinging? People talking? How do they keep anyone alive down here in this silence?
As we turn a corner, I hear a sound, thin at first, but as we go through a door, it swells to a bellow.
Daddy.
I start forward, but Dr. Lacey puts a hand on my arm. “The most important thing you can do for James right now is to be calm.”
I nod and center myself.
Dr. Lacey leads me into a room with three empty beds. White fabric curtains are drawn around a fourth. There’s no roaring now, but I hear metal rattling, a noise that belongs in a dungeon, not a hospital.
Dr. Lacey puts her hand on one of the curtains but holds it closed for a moment.
“Calm,” she reminds me.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She gives me a tight smile and pulls the curtain back.
Logan’s propped up in a big bed. His head’s
