THIRTY-FIVE
Kaylan
TWO WEEKS LATER
“We have removed a part of his skull to allow the swelling in his brain to subside. The medically induced coma should last a few more days.” The doctor spoke but all I could hear was the relentless beeping of the machine. It was supposed to be reassuring, that monotonous beep, but it grated on my nerves, echoing too loudly in the sterile silence of the hospital room.
I couldn’t understand how a sound that was showing his lifeline could irritate me. I didn’t want to have to listen to this sound. I craved the sound of his voice, the warmth of his eyes softening when he looked at me smiling. I wondered when was the last time I smiled. Probably when he told me he loved me.
‘Being in love with you is how I know I can forgive myself one day.’
Lies. All lies wrapped in a heroic guise. He had thrown himself into danger, a futile sacrifice on the altar of his own redemption. It was his plan, his foolish gambit, and now it was costing me my fucking sanity.
Anger bubbled up inside me, hotter and more fierce than the sorrow. Was I furious because I believed, somewhere deep down, that he could have chosen differently? That he could have chosen to stay, to fight, to live—to not leap into the churning waters that nearly claimed his life? Dr. Mendoza would have a field day with him when he wakes up.
My spiraling thoughts were abruptly cut by Zarek’s voice, tinged with a hesitant pessimism.
“Does that mean we have a chance for him to wake up soon?”
I wanted to punch Zarek in the face. It wasn’t about chances. It couldn’t be. There was no alternative, no other ending I could accept.
Logan had to wake up, there was no other choice.
I hadn’t moved from my chair next to Logan’s bed for days, maybe weeks; time seemed irrelevant. I felt like a fixture in that hospital room, a silent guardian rooted to the spot, watching over him while the rest of the world moved in a blur around us. I was no better than a piece of furniture lying inanimate near him.
People came and went, some trying to coax me into eating, others merely checking in. The food they brought grew cold beside me, untouched and forgotten. I ate sometimes, used the private shower for no more than three minutes every now and then.
At one point, Delara, still draped in her hospital gown and sporting her own set of battle scars, wheeled herself into the room with a jello cup in hand. She maneuvered around like it was a social visit, chatting away to Logan as though he could respond any minute.
“You have to wake up soon, Logan. Push the date up. You don’t want a skeleton of Kaylan to remain, do you? And tell her to fucking eat, Logan. You’re a horrible boyfriend.” Her voice would wobble every now and then, but she never strayed from the feigned bravado.
Leora was a constant presence too, her vigil nearly as unwavering as mine. Dylan and Zarek seemed almost to have set up camp just outside his door, their faces etched with concern and fatigue. The last update on Sebastian was not promising; he was battling an infection post-surgery and had been strictly advised against any movement.
The days melted into each other, marked only by the steady strengthening of Logan’s heartbeat. Each time I checked his charts, I absorbed the numbers, tracking every slight improvement like precious clues in a vast, uncertain puzzle.
After three long weeks and another delicate surgery to reattach part of his skull, the doctors decided it was time to try waking him up. I never left his side. That night, Leora and Zarek stepped out, leaving me alone with him, trusting me to monitor his recovery. Every so often, I checked his pupils, acutely aware that a stroke was a looming threat.
At precisely 3:03 AM, something happened—Logan’s eyelids fluttered. He started breathing on his own, the ventilator suddenly unnecessary. My training as a doctor kicked in, but my hands shook so much I barely managed the task. Thankfully, a nurse arrived just in time to assist.
Logan’s face, once pale and still, now flushed with life as his eyes opened fully. I made a silent vow—if he didn’t recognize me, I’d probably murder him. But as I wiped the tears from my cheeks and forced a smile, his eyes locked onto mine with a spark of recognition.
“Chaos,” he croaked out, his voice rough and weak.
“It’s me!” I half-sobbed, relief flooding through me.
I helped him sip some water, gently supporting him as he took in his surroundings. His eyes finally settled on me. A relenting gaze, drinking me in as though making sure I was not in that endless nightmare of Tyka’s hold. Then, he broke the silence.
“I am a horrible boyfriend, aren’t I?”
“No,” I whispered back and shook my head chuckling. “You’re just incredibly stupid sometimes.”
He laughed, then winced from the pain. “I’ve been occasionally called a self-sacrificing moronic ass.”
His gaze softened as he looked at me, his voice tender yet filled with remorse. “You haven’t been taking care of my Chaos.”
“I was too busy trying not to lose my mind,” I retorted, the seriousness of our situation making my voice waver.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he murmured, his eyes clouding with pain.
“Shh,” I soothed, stroking his hair gently. “Save your apologies for later, okay?”
Just then, the nurse cleared her throat, a reminder of the world waiting outside our little bubble. “I’ll get the doctor to check on him. Do you need me to call anyone?”
I shook my head, my focus fixed on Logan. “I’ll take care of it.”
Logan
I barely noticed the nurse slip out, my focus glued to that ugly bruise marring her temple. It screamed at me, a vivid, cruel reminder of the violence she’d endured. The intensity of the purple shade hinted at pain—deep, throbbing pain—that I couldn’t fathom. The reality of time lost crashed into me, leaving a nauseous twist in my gut.
“How long was I out?” The words stumbled out, heavy with dread.
Something flickered in her eyes before she composed herself.
“Almost three weeks,” she said plainly.
Three weeks?
The knowledge punched the air from my lungs. Imagining Kaylan alone, watching over me, filled with dread and hope, was unbearable. A tightness constricted my chest, and impulsively, I reached out, the IV line stretching with my movement, to touch her cheek gently.
“I’m so, so sorry, Chaos,” I murmured, my voice thick with unshed tears. “I didn’t see any other way. I saw him... hurting you, and I just reacted.”
She nodded quickly, her eyes glistening as my thumb caught a solitary tear trailing down her cheek. “It’s okay,” she whispered, her breath warm against my skin. “You saved me.”
That brought a smile to my face. I had finally saved her. Despite the pain, the fear, and the regret, I had managed to protect her. That was what mattered. I just wished it hadn’t cost us those lost weeks together.
Her gaze flitted away briefly, her fingers dancing over her phone before she faced me again, her smile a fragile thing.
“Zarek and Leora should be here in a bit,” her smile was soft yet strained.
She brushed a strand of hair from my forehead, her eyes searching mine intently, almost pleadingly.
“What’s wrong, Chaos?” I prodded gently.
She hesitated, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, then looked away. “I was so fucking scared I’d never see those eyes again. I watched them, every day, checking for any sign… afraid they’d dilate one last time and I’d lose you,” her voice cracked, and a sob escaped her. “I thought I might lose you forever!”
Her grief washed over her in waves, her body shaking as the sobs took hold. I reached out, helpless in the face of her pain, my heart squeezing tight. Another pain I had caused, another scar I had left on her heart. But as I watched her break down, something within me shifted. This time, I understood—she didn’t need my sacrifices; she needed me, simply and profoundly, just me. I vowed then, silently but fiercely, to never let her face such fear alone again.
???
“Would you fucking stop?” Leora’s sharp voice sliced through the kitchen noise, her irritation clear as crystal. I was elbow-deep in soap suds, trying to clean up after our dinner—a small contribution, but one that sparked yet another dispute.
“I’m just washing dishes, Leo. I can handle standing up now,” I said, rolling my eyes, a bit amused by her fuss.
She marched into the kitchen, her movements swift and decisive, as she nudged me aside to take over the sink. “We’ve got this. You’ve been home less than three weeks, Logan, and you’re already overdoing it.”
Her frown deepened, her hands moving briskly over the plates that I had intended to wash. I watched her for a moment, perplexed by her persistent worry.
“Leo?” I tried to catch her attention, but she continued scrubbing fiercely, ignoring my attempts.
“Leo, look at me.” Firmly, I placed my hands on her shoulders, turning her to face me. Her eyes met mine, a mix of frustration and concern swirling in them.
“What now?” she scoffed, her voice thick with exasperation.
“What’s going on?” I probed gently. “You’ve been so distant since I got back from the hospital. You barely talk to me, and when you do, it feels like you’re always pissed.”
She let out a heavy sigh, the kind that seemed to carry the weight of the world. “You died twice on that operating table, Lo. Then you were in a coma. And now, just because you survived, you act like you’re invincible. You’re not, Logan. You’re not invincible.”
And then she went from angry Leora to openly sobbing Leora. “How many time do we need to lose you?”
For a moment, I was speechless, absorbing the full impact of her fears. I’d been so caught up in proving I was still strong, still capable, that I’d completely overlooked the toll my near-death experience had taken on everyone around me. They’d seen me wither away. Again .
Fuck .
I’d been so blind, so selfish. Caught up in squaring things with Kaylan, focusing on expediting my recovery, I’d almost forgotten how my own battles were affecting everyone else. It hit me hard, realizing just how tough it would have been for them to face losing me again. Especially for Leora.
“Listen,” I began, the words heavy in my throat, “I’m sorry. I know those weeks in the hospital were probably hell. I’m trying to rest up properly now—for Kaylan’s sake, for all of our sakes.” I paused, taking a deep breath. “I’m itching to get back on my feet faster, so I can help out. Kabir and Amelia are neck-deep in dismantling that Crazon device, you and the others are wrangling information from the prisoners, and Kaylan’s swamped with her new role at the Blackthorn clinic. I feel useless, Leo.”
Leora gave me a gentle smile through her tears, her arms wrapping around me in a reassuring embrace. “You’re not useless, Logan. You saved us back there—Kabir, Kaylan, and me. Without you, Garret’s men might have had their way.” Her grip tightened, her presence a comforting weight. “You need to rest, really rest. Stop trying to rush your recovery.”
I nodded, resting my head against hers, a wave of gratitude washing over me as I kissed her temple softly. At that moment, Zarek walked in, Kaylan in tow, eyeing us with a mix of concern and curiosity.
“If you made her cry again,” Zarek began, his tone half-joking, half-warning.
“Relax,” I chuckled, rolling my eyes. “We were just talking.”
Releasing Leora, I made my way over to Kaylan, my legs shaky. Leora was right; I needed to slow down, to really take the time to heal.
That night, I scrapped my overly ambitious one-month recovery plan for a more realistic two-month-long schedule. Kaylan listened intently as I laid out my new plan. Her agreement was immediate. It dawned on me then—she’d been carrying the same weight as Leora.
Feeling overwhelmingly thankful to be surrounded by people who loved me enough to accept my temporary helplessness, I embraced my slower pace. Kaylan was a constant during my physio sessions, supporting me, ensuring I stayed active even after the therapists had gone.
Each day, I discovered new facets of Kaylan’s strength and resilience, her assertiveness blossoming in ways that both surprised and delighted me.
We started to heal together, as I had once promised her we would. My love for her deepened, a steady constant that reassured me no matter how much time it took to heal, she and I were in this together. And day by day, as I learned more about her, my heart secured her place in it forever.
I kept falling in love with her—more and more daily until I knew the cycle would never stop. She would forever be etched into my heart.