Chapter 32 - Logan
Logan
“How many times do I have to tell you I’m fine, sweetheart?”
“At least a few more,” Gwen mutters in response.
Ophelia sighs from the recliner in her living room while Gwen flits around making sure she has something to drink. A snack. The remote. Her phone. Everything she could possibly need within reach so she doesn’t have to get up unless absolutely necessary.
We made it to the hospital this morning in record time.
For once, the highway gods were on our side, and we didn’t pass a single cop car that would usually lay in wait on the side of the road.
Gwen stared at her phone, squeezing it in her grip as if it would fly away, the whole time.
Every once in a while, I reached over to remind her I was here, and she would shoot me a sad smile.
Our eyes caught a couple of times, and memories of our shared night flashed before us.
That brought the sadness in her smile to a smirk.
Until we blinked and were reminded of why we were rushing down the highway.
By the time we finally got there, she had been given the okay to be discharged in a few hours.
I stayed by Gwen’s side, prepared to catch her if she fell either physically or mentally.
She told me I didn’t need to stick around many times, and every time I told her no.
Wild horses couldn’t drag me away from this woman and the people she cares about most in the world.
I knew the helpless feeling that was coursing through her right now. I wouldn’t let her handle it alone.
Not that she was alone. Piper was there, waiting with open arms when we got to the hospital.
Gwen rushed to her, sobs wracking her body when they collided.
After they calmed down a bit, Jackson came out and directed us to the room Ophelia was occupying.
I waited outside the door, allowing them all the needed privacy, until a few moments later Gwen stuck her arm out, her hand reaching out for me.
I didn’t hesitate to grab it and follow her in. And I continued to hold her hand every chance I had between then and now.
“Hey,” Jackson calls to me from the front door. Nodding his head, he motions for me to follow him out to the front porch.
With one last look, I find Gwen tucking a blanket around Ophelia, who is staring at her granddaughter with sadness etched on her face.
I found Jackson leaning against the railing, his position allowing him the perfect view to still see them inside. I matched his stance beside him, making sure I could see if Gwen needed anything.
“You and my little sister, huh?”
I wasn’t sure what he was going to say, but I guess I should have guessed this was coming. There was no denying it when we had been attached at the hip all day.
“Yes, me and your sister.”
I know he’s trying to pull a scare tactic. While I appreciate his protectiveness over Gwen, I want him to know it’s not needed.
He grunts in response, both of us still looking in through the window. My heart aches when I see Ophelia reach out and stop Gwen from fluffing her blanket, again.
“How long have you known?”
I don’t know if Gwen realized it just yet, but her brother clearly knew more than he was letting on today.
“I’ve suspected something was going on for a couple of months. She hasn’t been herself lately. But I didn’t realize the extent until this morning.”
I scratch at the scruff along my chin. “A brain tumor. That’s…” I struggle with the proper word, so I just let my sentence trail off.
Jackson understands as he nods his head, his arms crossing over his chest as he angles toward me.
“Are you serious about her?”
I don’t need to ask for clarification regarding who he is talking about.
Matching his stance, I say matter-of-factly, “Yes”.
I’m not going to go into detail with him, not until I have a chance to dig into the feelings I have for Gwen.
Not until I can talk about it with her. He must see it written all over my face after a moment of scrutiny, because he just nods again, furrowing his brow in contemplation.
“You know I’ll murder you if you do anything to hurt her, right? I don’t give two shits if you’re the future mayor of this town or not. When it comes to her and her happiness, nothing will stop me, you understand?”
“One hundred percent. If I ever hurt her, which I won’t, I’ll let you.”
“Good,” he turns back to the window. “She’s going to need someone to help her through this. I suspect she’s going to want that person to be you.” His head tilts toward the window, and I follow his line of sight.
Gwen sits next to her grandmother, her head on Ophelia’s knee while she brushes through her hair. Gwen’s eyes are on me though. And when she sees that I’m looking back at her, her lips try to lift in a smile but it’s wobbly at best.
“I’ve got her,” I promise him.
My phone vibrating in my pocket has me reluctantly removing my gaze from the woman inside.
“Fuck,” I mutter as I read the screen. “I’ve gotta take this,” I tell Jackson while stepping toward the porch steps. When I’m out of reach for Jackson to overhear, I place the phone to my ear.
“Where have you been?”
“Hello, father. How are you?”
“Don’t bullshit me, Logan. I have been trying to reach you since last night.”
And I’ve been ignoring your calls since last night, is what I want to say. But I hold my tongue. “I had to go out of town. You wanted this to be the best festival ever, right? Gotta bring in that extra money to look good is what you told me.”
My father scoffs in my ear. “Leave it for that girl. We’ve got bigger problems.”
I want to react to his comment, but the latter part of what he says has my ears pricking. “What are you talking about?”
“The Willow Grove Gazette and the hack job of a journalist they have employed asked if I have a comment on the whispers that we are expanding the town. Care to explain why some lowly reporter would have the thought to even ask that question?”
My feet slowed from the pacing I had been doing. “I haven’t said a word to anyone.” No matter how badly I wanted to, I kept my cards close to my chest. “Maybe you should ask your business partners over at Triton.”
My father is silent for a moment. “If I find out you’re lying, boy–-”
“You’re going to what? Force me into a life I don’t want? Too fucking late for that.”
I can practically hear the steam releasing from his ears. “You ungrateful piece of shit.”
I roll my eyes, no longer affected by the words he spews at me after all these years.
“I better see you in the office first thing in the morning. I have a gag order on that paper, but I can only hold them off for so long. We need to prepare.”
Not waiting for my response, my father disconnects the call, leaving a ringing in my ear. Either from his shrill voice nagging me or the stress he has me under, I’m not sure. But I need to get a handle on it fast because I think whatever plan I might have imagined just ramped up quickly.