She was drifting.
The black and the red mixing into a pretty bit of marble glass. Like it was a shell around her. Each time the red touched her, the black made it disappear.
I don’t want her to be alone.
Logan?
She turned to his voice.
The perfect caramel smooth tones of it. Like when he woke her in the morning. Rumbly and sleep-coated.
She wanted to roll under into his voice.
In his arms.
She tried to move her arms. She wanted to hold him.
The red was back.
I don’t want anyone to tell her but me.
Tell her what?
In the black and the red, there was his green.
The pale, spring green of his eyes.
She frowned.
Why was he so sad? His eyes so lost.
She tried to reach for him.
He slipped away.
∞♦
∞
Logan stood, his chair skittering away. “Izzy?”
“Do you want me to get the doctor? A nurse?”
He hovered over her, his knuckles denting the bed beside her shoulder. “Baby?”
“Don’t be sad,” she said in a voice that was more breath than tone.
“Izzy?”
She made a humming noise then her breathing went back to the deep sleep he’d been listening to for hours on end.
Logan touched his forehead to hers. “Dammit.”
“Rest is the best thing for her, Lo.”
“I know.” The quick flash of her topaz eyes had gone through him like lightning. Just a hint of them between her heavy lashes. Then she was gone. He wanted to hold her hand, wanted to touch her, but everything was a war zone of danger signs.
Frustration lit through his blood.
He straightened and paced away.
He was going to lose his damn mind.
A light knock at the door had him snarling. “What?”
“I can come back.”
Logan closed his eyes. “No. I’m sorry, Christian.”
His bandmate came in hesitantly, ducking his head. “If you’re sure.”
Emerson followed him in, slapping his back. “We come with gifts.” A bag from a drugstore hung on his index finger. “And I have come just in time. You do not want your girl to wake up and see you like that.”
“Thanks, everyone,” Logan deadpanned. “I’m so glad that each and every one of you have come to tell me I look like baked shit.”
Emerson made a so-so gesture with his hand. “More like burnt shit.”
“Jesus, Em,” Zeke said on a groan.
“Too soon?”
Logan dragged his hand down his face. “Give me that.” Emerson had never been the tactful one of the group, but he was a master at giving people what they needed. He opened the bag to find two shot-sized energy drinks, a toothbrush, travel-sized mouthwash and shampoo, and a bar of Irish Spring—Christ, he didn’t even know they still made that.
“You have the tact of a ninety-year old geriatric patient with Tourette’s, but you always come through.”
Emerson’s teeth flashed out of his dense beard. “I try.” He glanced at the bed. “How’s our girl?”
“Getting there.”
Morgan came up the rear with a huge vase full of purple flowers of every variety. “At least our girl can wake up to something pretty instead of your mug.”
“I’m glad you’re all saving her from my repulsive self.”
Zeke leaned on his shoulder. “It’s all for her well-being.”
“Loud.”
Logan turned and dropped into his chair. “Iz.”
She licked her lips. “So loud. Can’t you see I’m sleeping?”
He laughed and cupped her cheek. “Ah, babe. We’ve been dying for you to wake up.”
Her eyes were blurry and she definitely wasn’t focusing on him. “Thirsty.”
“Shit.” He twisted around. “Ice chips?”
“On it.” Christian bolted from the room.
Emerson placed his hand on Logan’s shoulder. “We wanted to make sure you saw the good-looking ones when you woke up.”
She made a humming sound and her forehead wrinkled. “Hands.” She looked down at the immobilizers she was strapped into. Frustration clouded her gaze. “Why?”
Logan cupped her jaw. “Easy, Iz. You were hurt.”
“The store—” She tried to sit up and the machine went haywire and she curled into herself.
“No. Isabella!” He turned to Zeke. “Get someone.”
Before Zeke could get to the door, Nurse of the No Answers came barreling through. “All right. That’s enough—too much excitement for Ms. Grace. Everyone out.”
His band shuffled out with promises to return, but he couldn’t rip his gaze off of her. Logan lowered his head to hers. “Easy, baby. Shhh.”
Her eyes were wild with pain and dawning reality. “Logan.”
“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Out, Mr. King.”
“No.”
The nurse’s face was murderous as she emptied a needle into Izzy’s IV bag. “You’re upsetting her.”
“No. No, don’t leave.” Her eyes shimmered with tears. “Don’t leave me.”
“Never.” Logan clasped her arm above the elbow. The one place that might not hurt her. “Shh, baby. That’s my girl.” He watched the drugs work. Her face slid into a calm mask as her breathing eased.
“You can’t upset her like that.”
“No.” Logan pressed his forehead into her mattress. “She surprised us.”
“She’ll sleep for a few hours now.”
Logan perched his chin on his stacked hands at the edge of her bed. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The nurse sighed and left without another word.
He watched her for hours. The sunlight faded to dusk, then darkness then to daylight again. His back screeched in protest, but he couldn’t make himself move.
A flicker of knowledge had been in her gaze. He didn’t want her chasing that truth alone. Early in the morning, a different doctor came in.
He checked her dressings, ordered new for all of them, and let him know that they had a private room she was being moved into.
“We need to get her ready to move, so you’ll have to leave.”
“I don’t—”
“Look, I get it. And I’m all for the grand gesture, but we have to do an exam and get her ready to go. So back off, Romeo.”
Logan backed into the hall.
“Mr. King?”
He blinked at the woman coming at him with a tablet strapped to her hand. “Yes?”
“I’m Nancy Blake, head of the client accounts.”
Logan’s eyebrows lowered. “Yes?”
“We got most of the information from your associate, but we have a few things to go over.”
“Information?”
“A Marcus Roth? He had her contact and insurance information. A private room isn’t part of her insurance, but I was told you—”
“I don’t care. Make it happen.”
“We’ll need some form of—” She cut off when he tossed his black Amex on her tablet.
“That should take care of things.”
“Um, yes. More than.”
“So are we good here?”
“Would you like her flowers transported with her?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“Logan?”
He turned to the next voice, his teeth bared.
“Yeah, put those away, Cujo.”
“Sarah. Holy shit.” He rushed forward. She was holding onto the wall, her arm strapped to her chest in a full shoulder harness.
“Touch me and I’ll Taze you.”
He held his hand to the side of her. “You look great.”
“Yeah, that’s what I look like.” She rolled her eyes. “How’s Princess?”
“Still pretty out of it.”
“Does she know?”
He so didn’t need to elaborate on that one. It was the screaming question on everyone’s mind. “No. She hasn’t stayed conscious long enough for me to tell her.”
It was a half truth, but one he was going to use until he found the way to do it. He had a bad feeling that the moment she had any semblance of clarity she’d know. He’d seen it in her eyes today.
He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Have you seen Adam?”
“He still hasn’t regained consciousness. It’s not good.”
“Fuck.”
He needed to go down and see his parents. Hell, he needed to contact Izzy’s parents. He knew they weren’t close, but this definitely required a call. He’d been so wrapped up in making sure she was okay that nothing else mattered.
Before he could think too hard on it, he texted Marcus. He’d pulled Izzy’s entire background and he’d remembered their names in the file.
“I gotta make a call. I wouldn’t hate it if you stayed with her.”
Sarah nodded. “Consider it done.”
A few seconds later a phone number came through. He doublechecked that Felix would be going with Izzy every step of the way and made a pit stop in the men’s room. He looked like warmed over dog shit.
Seemed fitting.
After cleaning up a little and taking care of other more pressing matters, he took the long walk down the hall toward the windows. He pulled out his phone and dialed.
Hell, he didn’t even know what time it was.
“Grace residence.” The voice clipped and definitely New England.
“I’m looking for Anna or Richard Grace?”
“This is Mrs. Grace.”
The few times Izzy had talked of her parents, it had been full of censure and aloofness. With just two sentences, he felt it. They both seemed to have less than amazing family backgrounds so they tended to talk of other things.
His father the conman who’d steal from his own kid and his dead mother. Her cold and rigid parents, that cared only about appearances. They were a real pair in the family department.
“Yes. This is Logan King.” Crap, he wasn’t even sure she’d told her parents about him. How fucked up was that?
“What can I do for you, Mr. King?” Her voice became even cooler if that was at all possible.
“I’m not sure if you’re aware of the accident that happened in Winchester Falls.”
“We are. We’ve been monitoring Isabella’s progress with the hospital.”
Logan bowed his head and dug his fingertips into his neck. Fuck, that was cold. “I was just calling to let you know she’s okay. Things have been pretty crazy here.”
“We appreciate the call. Is there anything else?”
“Do you know who I am?”
“Yes, Mr. King. My daughter is having an unfortunate relationship with you.”
“Unfortunate? I’m marrying your daughter.” His spine snapped straight.
“As I said, unfortunate. But Isabella does as she pleases, and always has. A musician is not the correct status statement for her social standing.”
“Social—” Shocked into silence, Logan took a breath. “I didn’t know there was an academic pedigree she’d been lacking.”
“We’ve come to an understanding over the years. I’m relieved that she is recuperating.”
Stunned, Logan took the phone away from his ear and looked down at it before returning it to his ear. “You are aware that her best friend and business partner died in the explosion.”
“Yes.”
For the first time, Logan heard a note of actual humanity in her voice.
“Isabella is welcome here to convalesce if you need a place for her.”
“No, I’ll take care of her.”
“Very well then. Thank you for calling.”
Anger surged into his voice. “Mrs. Grace. Your daughter will be out of reach for the near future.”
“I see. I hope she’ll let us know where she ends up. You may not understand our relationship, Mr. King, but we do keep in contact.”
Why, he couldn’t fathom it. The fact that Izzy was the warm, generous woman she was seemed even more of a miracle now. And he would make sure she stayed that way. Even with the loss of the one friend who had showed her that not all families were like her own, Isabella would know she was loved.
He was her family.
And no one would take that away.
Logan spent the rest of the day doing paperwork, praying for a new set of eyeballs, and snarling at anyone that got near him. Tired wasn’t even a word for what he was. It was sheer force of will that he was even upright.
Izzy had been moved to a private room in a new wing of the hospital. They’d sedated her heavily to move her, and she would be out for at least the better part of the day. It was a suite they used for the maternity ward, but it was available and he didn’t care what it cost to put her there.
As soon as was humanly possible, he’d have her at the house with a nurse. But right now, she was still being monitored for the liver puncture. A steady diet of platelets was the easiest way to do that. It felt very passive to him.
He was learning that the body was an ever mysterious thing. As essential as the liver was, it was also the toughest organ. Dr. Marra answered his texts when she could. Said it was easier than having him page her every twenty minutes with a question.
He knew he was being a pain in the ass. Even sitting on top of entitled asshole hill with a damn crown and scepter. But the only thing that mattered was getting her through this.
Adam still wasn’t conscious and his parents had barred Logan from visiting. It was obvious they hated him—with good reason. He’d stolen their daughter-in-law and now their son was hurt as well. Nic’s parents, the Wesley’s, had cut off all communication. He’d only met them a handful of times. They lived on the outskirts of Winchester Falls and were both retired middle grade teachers.
About as far removed from Izzy’s academic parents as was possible and still in the same field. Funny how the world worked.
The Wolfes and the Wesleys had banded together to close him out and he couldn’t blame them. He’d been a raging bear since Isabella had been hurt. If she… He swallowed. There was no way he could even think about it, let alone say it out loud. No, he definitely couldn’t blame them for hating him.
He just hoped Izzy didn’t feel the same way when she found out about Nichole. He knew she loved him, but Nichole had been her closest friend—her sister, for all intents and purposes.
Part of him screamed to take her away and lie through his goddamn teeth. Take her to the Swiss Alps in the most remote corner of the world where there was no internet or phone. To let her get better before she had to grieve.
But the part that Izzy had revived in him, the one that started to believe in people again—that part wouldn’t allow him to do that. She believed in him enough to love him, he had to believe she could deal with this.
He had to believe they were strong enough to deal with this.
His phone buzzed in his hand. Logan sighed and flipped it up to see Marcus’s name. The ignore button taunted him.
He couldn’t deal with another piece of bad news and it was pretty much a fifty-fifty crapshoot when Marcus was on the other end of the line.
“King.”
“You’re not near anything smashable, are you?”
Logan turned toward the window and pressed his forehead to the glass. “I knew I should have hit ignore.”
“Yeah, you probably should have.”
“Fucking fabulous. What now?”
“Preliminary reports from the arson investigator point toward faulty wiring. Good news for Bella’s insurance payout, bad news for us. I have nothing to tie this with Aimee.”
Logan slammed the side of his hand into the wall. The steel-reinforced frame sent a shockwave of pain through his bones and skin. But that was the only thing that pushed back the haze of anger.
“Logan.”
Marcus’s voice was a vague impression as his body shut down. Blood roared in his head and breath-stealing pain came down like an anvil.
Logan felt the hands digging into his armpits and someone pushed him into a chair. Whomever it was took his phone. He leaned forward and put his head between his knees as nausea followed the pain.
“Oh, shit.”
Zeke’s voice. He told Marcus that he’d call him back then crouched next to him.
“Logan.”
“I’m good.” He swallowed back the bile that threatened.
“No. I’m gonna say that you’re lying. If you don’t eat and get some sleep, you will be no good to Bella. At all.”
“I’m fine.”
“Oh really. Funny I haven’t seen you pull that action since we were twenty.”
Logan dragged a deep breath into his lungs through his nose and breathed through the pain. Migraines had plagued him after he found out what his father had done to him as a kid.
Betrayal, stress, starting over—all of it had pushed him over the edge as a kid. It really was a wonder that the migraines hadn’t come back earlier.
Izzy was the reason.
He knew it, but still didn’t want to face it.
Izzy was the reason a lot of his life continued to work after Aimee had made Swiss cheese of it. But he needed to be clear-headed and rational about what was going on. He didn’t have time to be weak.
Logan opened his eyes and blew out a muttered, “Shit. Help me get to Izzy’s room, will you?”
Zeke steadied him when he stood. “So, how bad’s the tunnel vision?”
“Manageable.” Fucking half the hallway was gone.
“Now I know you’re lying. You almost ran into Felix.”
Fuck.
“No comment? Yeah. Okay. In we go, buddy.”
There was no arguing when someone knew him that well. Zeke had helped him start over, helped him create All the King’s Men, and helped him trust that not every person on the planet was a scumbag like his father.
Zeke sighed. “How’s this? I’ll stay and sit by my favorite girl. I promise I won’t leave and I promise that if she even flutters those mascara-commercial lashes I’ll wake you up. We’ll get a cot in her room. She’s got her own full bathroom. You can even wash off the burnt toast aroma you’ve been wearing.”
Logan steadied himself against the wall. “Dick.”
“The least she deserves is a clean, semi-coherent fiancé when she wakes up.”
“Fine.” He’d hit his limit the day before and still had pushed. His body wasn’t going to allow it. That’s all there was to it.
“Finally some common sense. Good thing I’d already requested the cot.”
“Asshole.”
“Ahh, but I’m a smart asshole.”
Logan could hear the cheeky grin in his friend’s voice. Good thing he hurt too badly to kick his ass over it. Through the haze of the halo effect and tunnel vision, he spotted Izzy. Her face was turned toward the window and sunlight kissed her too-pale cheeks.
Zeke maneuvered him over to another bed and pushed him down. “Good night, Logan.”
“Fuck off.”
“You may go with, ‘Goodnight, John Boy’ or ‘Goodnight, my bestest friend in all of the galaxy’. Fuck off is not one of the options.”
Logan rolled onto his stomach. “Thanks, Z.”
“See? Was that so hard?”
“Yes,” he said against the thin pillow.
“Sleep, jackass. I won’t let anything happen to her.”
He’d sleep and then he’d plan a way to take care of Aimee.
For good.