Heartbreaker (Unbreakable #1)(80)

I floored it. We both leaned to one side, then the other, as I weaved through light traffic.

“No accidents would be good.” Kiki’s nervous tone broke through my mental haze.

I glanced at the speedometer.

Eighty.

Eighty-five.

Ninety.

Common sense screamed to slow down.

It took Kiki smacking a palm on the dash for my foot to finally ease off the gas.

By the time I glanced at her, she had braced her hands and feet against every available point in her corner.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She let out a gradual breath. “I get it.”

My heart raced so damn hard, I could barely hear her past the rushing of blood in my ears.

She removed her hand from the dash once our speed dipped below seventy-five. “It’s the only control you have.”

Didn’t feel like control to me. Logan was hurt. Stable now.

Panic flooded my mind as memories of past and present blurred together: racing to the hospital on another phone call, no one bothering to tell me it had been too late. The trip to that hospital had been a formality: a way to break the horrific news.

She’s alive. I just needed to get there. Hold her hand. Assure her it would be okay.

The rest all happened in a daze. Kiki led me to the right, quickly finding a parking space. Then she told me which doors to go through. She stood by my side when the intake nurse handed me a clipboard. She held it tight when I almost flung it back at the nurse.

“I need to see her!” I shouted, desperation in my voice.

My muscles shook. Air came in short gasps. My whole body felt like it was about to implode.

When a warm hand touched my cheek, I looked down.

Kiki stared up at me, her big blue eyes reassuring. “We got this.”

I blinked heavily, not understanding. She’d repeated her brother’s words.

She gave me a light smile. “They’ll only let us back there if we’re calm.”

Calm. Nothing close to calm was even possible. But I stared at Kiki and took a slow, deep breath—let her quiet the racket in my head. Miraculously, she also slowed my rioting pulse.

When I inhaled a second time, she glanced over her shoulder at the nurse. “I’ll fill out the forms.”

The nurse arched her brows. “And you are?”

“Their sister.”

My sluggish brain processed Kiki’s lie through my fog of panic. “Sister,” I repeated.

“How they’ll let me back with you. That okay?”

I gave an absent nod and stared at the nurse, who stared at Kiki, then me.

“Please.” The one quiet word I spoke sounded exactly like the desperate plea that it was.

The nurse let out a surrendering sigh and gave us a brief nod. “Follow me.”

Automatic doors whooshed open after she punched the wall on her side of the barrier made of low desks and plexiglass windows. Sterile smells punched me in the face, bleach and antiseptic, as we walked down a white-tiled corridor. Two paramedics in navy T-shirts rushed a gurney in from a side door and chaos exploded around them, two orderlies and a doctor shouting orders and pointing toward a curtained room.

“This way.” With an arm sweep, our nurse gestured in the opposite direction of the commotion. We rounded a wide nurses’ station and passed two “rooms” before she pulled back the pale green curtain-wall of a third.

Logan.

I lunged to her side. Touched her exposed arm. Warm. She was alive. Though she didn’t look very: pallid skin, head tilted to the side, eyes shut, lips gray, plastic tube clipped into her nose.

“They’re admitting her,” the nurse commented.

“Admitting her.” Nothing made sense. I scanned Logan’s body from head to toe. Didn’t see any scrapes or bruises.

The nurse pulled the clipboard from a plastic pocket bolted to the wall, scanned the chart, then slid it back in. “She’ll be in psyche for observation.”

“Psyche?” Did they know about her depression? I struggled to connect the dots.

“Alcohol. Drugs. Then an OD on pills. They need to make sure she remains stable. Not a danger to herself.”

“What happened?” I had to know. Thank f*ck she hadn’t jumped or fallen from that roof. But drugs? Pills? None of that was Logan.

“Look” —the nurse stepped between Kiki and me, lowering her voice— “I’m not even supposed to let you back here, let alone tell you all of that. The doctor’s in emergency surgery and won’t be able to talk to you until much later.”

Translation: no info.

“Her vitals are stable. She’s been given a sedative to help her sleep, and she’ll probably be out for the night. Why don’t you two fill out the forms, then go home. Get some rest. Come back in the morning.”

“No f*cking way,” I growled at the nurse.

“Darren.” Kiki put her hand on my forearm.

I unclenched my fist. Then I exhaled a sharp breath and glanced at Kiki. “I’m not leaving her.”

“Then we’ll stay.” Kiki nodded to a lone blue plastic chair off to the side.

I planted my ass in it. Crossed my arms. I’d chain myself to the metal guard rail of Logan’s bed if need be.

The nurse gave a relenting nod. “Make sure I have those forms in the next thirty minutes.”