Shattered (Extreme Risk 2)

“What?” Confused, I turn to look at her.

“Logan is always going to be paralyzed and there’s nothing you’re going to be able to do about that fact.”

“Jesus. You think I don’t know that?” Anger crackles in my voice, in the fists I’ve clenched by my sides, but Tansy doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t look away.

“I think you want it to be different. I think you spend a lot of time imagining how different things would be if he could walk. But he can’t walk, Ash, and he’ll never be able to walk again.”

“Goddamnit! I am well aware of that fact. I’ve seen the MRIs. I’ve talked to the doctors. I know exactly what’s wrong with my brother.”

“Yes, you do. But you can’t—or won’t—move past it. You’re so caught up in what was or what should be that you haven’t accepted what is. Logan can feel that and it makes it harder for him to accept it.”

Her words slam into me like actual physical blows and I curl in on myself. Try to protect myself from the pain of each hit. But I can’t, because she’s still talking.

“He worships you, Ash. He adores you.

And the fact that you can’t accept him the way he is now—that has to be crushing him. He doesn’t need much, but he needs to know that you love him just the way he is. The way he’ll always be from now on.”

“Of course I accept him! I love him more than anything! I would do anything for that kid—”

“I know that.” She holds me tighter, her softness seeping through the rigidity pressing in on me from all sides. “And deep down, so does he, I’m sure. But maybe you need to tell him that. Maybe you need to tell him that you love him exactly as he is. And that Logan being paralyzed doesn’t change anything important between you.”

She doesn’t say anything else, but then she doesn’t have to. Her words ring in my ears. They seep through every cell in my body, work their way into my every breath. And much as I want to scream at her and drown out the truth, much as I want to deny what she’s said, I can’t. Because it’s true.

Because somehow Tansy, with all her fragility and all her fumbling, has managed to articulate exactly what I need to hear. Not what I want to hear, but what I need to hear. What I need to know.

The realization comes at the same time it registers on me that she’s freezing, her teeth all but chattering. Remorse moves through me and I wrap her in my arms even as I walk her back into her room and close the door behind us.

Then I grab a blanket from the bed and wrap it around her, chafing my hands against her arms and back in an effort to create more heat. Fuck. I really am a bastard sometimes.

“Are you okay?” I ask her, furious at myself. Never has she felt as small, as fragile, as she does at this moment, shivering violently against me.

“I’m fine.” But she holds on to me, wraps her arms around me. “It’s you I’m worried about.”

“I’m fine, too.”

“You sure?” Her gaze searches mine.

“I’m positive.” And as I curl myself around her, trying to transfer as much of my heat to her as I can, I realize that for the first time in a long time, I really am certain. Yes, I’ve made a mess of things with Logan. Yes, I’ve made mistakes. But maybe Tansy’s right. If I talk to him—really talk to him—maybe he’ll really listen.

It’s no guarantee. But it’s more than I’ve had to hold on to for a long time. And right now, with Tansy in my arms and Logan safe with Z down the hall, it’s more than enough.

Chapter 24

Tansy

I’m hot. The realization sinks into my consciousness slowly, wakes me from a deep sleep and has me kicking the covers off in a belated, and useless, attempt to cool down. My throat feels parched and I try to sit up, only to be anchored in place by something heavy around my waist.

I jolt, start to freak out, but last night comes flooding back. After going back to his room, only to be told to get the hell out by Logan, Ash had made sure Victor would spend the night with his brother and then come back to me. It’s Ash who is in bed with me right now. Ash who has his arm wrapped around my stomach, holding me close.

No wonder I’m so hot. The guy is like a furnace, radiating heat when he’s asleep.

Pushing his arm off me, I ignore his muttered protest, and stumble through the dark to the mini-bar. I fumble around until I find a cold bottle of water, then pop the cap and drink the entire thing down in a few long gulps.

It doesn’t help. I still feel like I’m burning up.

Alarm bells start going off in my head, but I refuse to even acknowledge them. Instead, I feel my way along the wall until I get to the bathroom. Once there, I turn on the faucet and splash cold water on my face. Once, twice, then again and again in an effort to cool down.

It doesn’t work, either.