25. Logan

TWENTY-FIVE

It's beenthree days since that fiasco of an FBI sting. If that's how they run all their operations, it's a wonder our whole country hasn't descended into anarchy.

Alonzo Adams got the jump on us, Victoria claimed. The team by the highway saw Alonzo's van turn onto the gravel road. But something, something jamming signal, and it was several beats too late before anyone realized something was wrong. To me, it felt like hours.

By the time Victoria and the others managed to move in, the place had already been shot to hell and Alonzo was using Jared as a human shield. It was a sniper who eventually took Alonzo out. It was surreal.

I saw the little red dot bouncing around the cabin and was still wondering what the hell it was when something smacked Alonzo right in the middle of his forehead. His snarled, hate-filled expression immediately went blank and he dropped to the floor. He took Jared with him.

I rushed to him, but Jared was already out cold. There was so much blood. Puddles of it on the floor. His clothes were soaked through. The sickly-sweet scent cloyed my nose. I thought I'd lost him. I thought he was dead.

All told it was only about twelve to fifteen minutes from when the first bullet shattered the window and when the sniper killed Alonzo. At least, that's what Victoria claims. I still don't believe her, even after she laid it out for me.

How can that much damage be done in a mere fifteen minutes? It shouldn't be possible.

The cabin was destroyed. Jared was shot and choked, left lying in a pool of his own blood. I held a gun and shot it. At someone. Who died.

That moment replays itself in my mind every time I close my eyes. The look of shock in the man's eyes. The way he toppled over. The sound of him trying to suck in a breath. I haven't really slept in the last seventy-two hours.

Instead, Jared's been making up the time for me. He's barely been conscious since the paramedics arrived and dragged his ass out of the cabin. At the hospital, they took him from the ambulance straight to the operating room. The old wound in his thigh had been torn open. The bullet in his shoulder had to be surgically removed. They've given him lots of pain meds, which make him sleepy all the time.

And now I'm sitting in the recliner next to his hospital bed, arms folded on the mattress, head propped up by my hand.

The usual scruff on Jared's cheeks is getting long enough that it's not really considered scruff anymore. His eyes are ringed with dark circles. The rest of his face is covered in cuts and bruises.

He's calm right now, but sometimes he dreams. They're unpleasant dreams, I think, with him twitching and shouting incoherently. I feel awful when I wake him up and he's all disoriented and groggy. So I've started climbing into bed with him or slipping my hand into his, and he'll usually settle.

Sometimes, even when he's not dreaming, I'll climb into bed with him anyway. Because I need to feel the warm weight of his body next to mine. I need to feel the slow rise and fall of his chest under my hand. Because I need him.

Victoria says the way I'm feeling is called the letdown effect or the post-event blues. I should be elated with the outcome of the operation. Alonzo Adams is dead and will never hurt another person again. Both Jared and I are alive and recovering. And yet, I feel so fucking sad.

I've always been a happy person, always saw the best in everyone, always looked for the silver lining in every situation. But that was before I saw some of the worst shit humanity has to offer. The person I was before feels like a stranger right now, and I don't know if I'll ever find my way back to him.

The door opens quietly and Victoria and Isaac slip in. Isaac's been here a couple times, checking in on Jared. But Victoria's been a constant presence, making sure I eat and shower and stay relatively human. I think she's just as worried about me as she is about Jared.

"How's he doing?" she asks, coming around to my side of the hospital bed, and placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

"The same," I say, not taking my gaze off Jared.

"Some of your friends are outside," she says.

That catches my attention. "They are?" I haven't spoken with the guys at Mars. Not because I've forgotten about them. I just don't know what to say.

Oh, hey guys, I got abducted by a madman, got shot at, was in a car chase, let myself be used as bait, got shot at again, shot someone, killed him, but it's okay because the bad guy is dead now.

Yeah, that'll go over real well.

Victoria steps back to give me room to stand up. "Go say hello." She nods at Isaac. "We'll stay with him."

I glance back at Jared. His eyes are closed and his breathing is even. If I'm quick, he might not know I was gone. "Okay."

I hear the guys before I see them. They're whispering, but quiet isn't really a volume they're familiar with. The second I step out of the room, they tackle me, crushing me in the middle of the gayest, broiest group hug.

"Jesus fuck, Logan," Sawyer swears in my ear. "You scared the crap out of us."

"Yeah, where the fuck have you been?" Everest is at my back.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Beau's got his massive arms around all of us. "Gavin wanted to be here, but he needed to take care of some things back at the gym."

I shake my head. "I'm okay." Except the moment the words leave my lips, I hiccup, triggering the floodgates. Tears pour out of me in ugly sobs.

I bury my face into Sawyer's shoulder as the rollercoaster of the past few weeks catches up to me. I don't even know what I'm crying about. Am I sad? Am I happy? Am I relieved? I'm all of it and none of it at the same time.

"Dude, you don't look okay." Everest sounds alarmed. Thump. "Ow! What was that for?"

"Don't be an idiot, and I won't smack you on the head," Beau responds. "Of course, he's not okay."

"And it's totally okay to be not okay," Sawyer adds quickly. "The scary FBI woman filled us in. I mean, not the details. Apparently, that's classified."

"So cool," Everest mutters, earning himself another smack from Beau.

"But we got the gist," Beau says. "That shit's not normal."

"Totally not normal," Sawyer agrees.

"Whatever you need, Logan, just name it and we've got your back." Beau reaches up and rubs my head the way an older brother might.

"You want to stay with me and Preston?" Sawyer asks. "We changed his room into the guest suite and he's gotten really good at ordering delivery."

"I, uh… I'm not really good at anything that would be useful," Everest says. "Sorry."

I shake my head as the tears start to slow. "You guys…" I don't even know what to say. They are the bestest friends I could ever have asked for. Generous and understanding and they always have my back.

Beau hands me a handkerchief. Yes, an honest-to-god handkerchief, complete with his initials monogrammed on it. Have I mentioned he's from the South?

"Thanks, Beau." I use it to clean myself up a bit while the guys argue among themselves about where they should go for lunch.

I stand there and simply listen to them banter a bit. It's nice. Comforting. Their familiar voices, the easy camaraderie. I feel removed from them after everything I've been through. But I also feel the tug to get back to where they are. To that place where life is fun and carefree, and we are all oblivious to how evil the world can be.

The bout of ugly crying is a good first step. I already feel a little lighter.

It'll take time, I'm sure, but I don't want to be stuck in this gloomy, gray existence forever. We got rid of Alonzo Adams. He's in the past. What good would that whole ordeal have been if I let him haunt my future? No. I used to be a laidback, easygoing person, and Alonzo Adams will not steal that from me.

"Whatever, you guys decide." Beau rolls his eyes and turns to me, leaving Sawyer and Everest to continue the lunch argument. "So, I know you can't really talk about what happened. But I'm always here to listen if there's anything you want to get off your chest."

"Thanks, Beau. I, uh, I'm sorry I missed so much work."

He waves my concern away. "It's not like you could ask the bad guys to reschedule around your work shifts."

I crack a smile, maybe the first genuine one I've had since the cabin.

"And don't feel like you need to rush back either. Take as much time as you need. In fact, the FBI woman mentioned something about Bureau therapists? Because of clearance levels or something? Might be a good idea to set up a couple appointments."

Fresh tears prickle my eyes. Happy ones this time. "Thanks, Beau. I think I'd like to get back to work, though." I glance at Sawyer and Everest acting like manchildren and feel that yearning for normalcy again. "I miss you guys."

"We miss you too." Beau pulls me into another hug, a bone-crushing one, followed by a couple solid thumps on my back. "Everest has been helping cover the juice bar. Don't tell him, but his smoothies taste like a skunk farted in them."

"Hey! I heard that!" Everest rounds on us and points an accusing finger at Beau.

Beau shrugs, not at all bothered that Everest overheard. "I said what I said."

"Unbelievable. Totally not appreciated around here."

I giggle at their antics, feeling more confident that the old me is still within reach.

"I'm going to get these two out of here," Beau says. "Do you need anything? Want us to bring you clothes? Food?"

I shake my head. "The FBI's got it covered for now. But I'll let you know if anything comes up."

"Ooo… the FBI's got it covered," Everest says with a teasing, singsong voice.

"Shut up." Sawyer gives him a smack this time.

"Hey!"

"Come on, let's go." Beau shoos them toward the elevators but turns to call back over his shoulder. "Message me. For anything."

I wait until they disappear around the corner, then take a deep, steadying breath. Everything's going to be okay. Isn't that what Jared's always told me? We'll figure it out. We'll make our way back to normal.

The door to his room opens and Isaac pops his head out. "Hey, he's awake and asking for you."

I rush back inside.