Addiction

Chapter 17-2

TRAGEDY HAS A WAY OF making a ruin of the best laid plans. And so it was that as they walked home an hour later, Sophie got a call on her cell. Not recognizing the number, she'd sighed, saying a tentative hello to the person on the other end.

Logan watched as all the color leeched from her face and she collapsed, her butt hitting the wet pavement hard in shock. “What is it?” he asked, a lump forming in his throat. It had to be bad. Worst case scenario bad. But he hadn't been prepared for just how bad it was.

Marie and Harry were broadsided on their way home an hour previous, their car mangled, bits of it spread all across the blacktop like discarded sweet wrappers, still shining and pristine, despite being torn apart. They had to get to the hospital. Now. He bundled her into a cab, holding her tightly to his side the entire journey, both of them lost in a fog of disbelief.

“I'm sorry,” the doctor repeated, looking straight at Logan. “There was nothing we could do to save him.”

Harry was dead, the impact killing him in less than a minute, or so the doctor claimed. Massive injuries and a dicky heart. He hadn't had a chance. Marie lingered on, tubes and wires sticking out of her body like a laboratory experiment. The doctors had no hope for her survival. Too much trauma, they'd told them.

The soft and rhythmic shht-shht of the ventilator seemed to lull Sophie as she held her mother's hand. It was cold, Logan knew, as if she'd already started to leave her body behind. Her chest rose and fell in stutters, as if even with the help of the machine, her lungs were hard-pressed to do their job. Various lines and squiggles that meant little to either of them measured her mom's vital signs.

Standing behind Sophie, his hand resting on her shoulder, Logan kept his silence. The atmosphere was stifling, a weight of sorrow seeming to wrap them up in ropes of misery.

Marie's mouth was lopsided, the weight of the breathing tube pulling it to one side and the elastic strap dug into her soft skin as she lay motionless, unresponsive to her daughter's hiccuping sobs. One hand – the one that wasn't holding her mom's hand – was fisted tightly as she gnawed on it. Logan was loathe to disturb her, but if she kept going, she would have no knuckles left.

He leaned over her shoulder, taking her free hand in his, squeezing just enough to let her know he was not letting go. He smoothed his thumb across her damp skin, wanting nothing more than to take her pain and make it his instead.

“Tell me it's gonna be okay,” she whispered, her voice broken and pleading. “Please, Logan.”

His heart shattered. He couldn't lie to her. Not about this. “I wish I could, Soph. I wish I could.”

Her hair flowed over their joined hands as she turned her head to look at him. She seemed so lost that he wanted to gather her up, but she needed to be here. “She's dying, isn't she?”

Eyes burning, Logan nodded once. “I'm sorry.”

Tears overflowed and poured down her face unchecked as she nodded once. “I know.”

Alarms shrieked, their high-pitched whistle-like beeps grating. Sophie whirled, staring at her mom for a moment in confusion. As if in a dream, Logan dragged her to her feet, nurses appearing seemingly from nowhere. “Clear the room!” they shouted.

He had to pick her up and carry her from the cubicle, so rooted to the spot had she become. “Sophie. Sophie, look at me.”

Her tortured eyes met his, making him want to cry. “Don't watch,” he ordered. “Just look at me.”

From the corner of his eye, Logan could see the nurses working hard, trying to bring Marie back. A long beep followed by a series of shorter stuttering ones indicated they were attempting to defibrillate. “Clear!” one nurse announced. The sound, when it came, was shocking loud, like a metal punch, and Sophie jerked, launching herself into his arms with her eyes screwed shut. Enough was enough – he pulled her farther from the doorway, murmuring nonsense all the while, drowning out the commotion and the ordered panic from the room.

He had no idea how long they'd been standing there when a doctor approached, his face serious and his hands clasped in front of his stomach. Logan wanted to tell him to turn around and walk away, but he stood mutely as the man opened his mouth and destroyed the girl in his arms.

“I'm so very sorry,” he began, his face showing that indeed he was sorry. “There was nothing we could do.”

Sophie crumpled to the floor, all the strength seeping from her in great heaving gulps of breath, expelled on soft, keening moans. Logan knew he had to do something. He sat on the floor behind her, a leg either side of her curled up body and pulled her into the V of his legs. He rocked her, for what felt like hours, as staff gave them a wide berth and tried to pretend like they weren't both falling apart in front of them. Privacy, they called it. Guilt, he renamed it. They felt guilty for not being able to save their parents – not that he blamed them, no – and couldn't face their grief.

After a while they were ushered into a nearby room, where they were left to themselves and each other for the remainder of the night. A little sign was hung on the door. He imagined it said something along the lines of 'grieving family, enter at your own risk'. Sophie looked up at him a few hours later, cried-out and shivering. She was a mess. He was a mess too, but he had to hold it together for her. She spoke for the first time since hearing her mother's last breaths. “You're all I've got left, Logan. You're the only family I have. Uncle Troy is stationed on the other side of the world. Aunt Maureen has her hands full with Lucy, and I hate Great Aunt Tess. You're it. You're all I have.”

He felt his heart constrict and shrivel in his chest. He was the only family she had left. He could never ask for more – not now. Not when she was falling apart at the seams and he was the only one holding her together. “I'll always be here for you, Soph,” he told her, smoothing her hair off her damp face. He placed a tender kiss on the tip of her red nose, and vowed to keep his feelings for her hidden no matter what. “I'll always be your family.”

She nodded, curling herself around him once more. He noticed that she'd been rubbing the penny he'd given her – no doubt wishing for her mom back, but that was one wish he couldn't grant her. All he could do was silently swear to be there, day or night, whenever she needed him.

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