CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Logan?” Hana shook his shoulder again, her tone urgent. “Sweetheart, wake up. Logan?”
Groggy and disorientated, Logan roused, pushing at Hana’s fingers with weak, ineffectual movements. He clapped his hand over his mouth and leaned sideways with a groan.
Hana snatched the leftover paste bucket from her wallpapering and shoved it on the floor next to him, only just making it back in time. Logan tried to sit and threw up, red liquid spattering the remnants of paste. He reeled without control and Hana struggled to hold him in place. He pushed her hands away again as he vomited and she let go, backing off. “Sorry, Logan,” she hissed under her breath. “Please forgive me.” She reached into her pocket for her phone and slid it out, letting it rest in her palm.
Logan retched
