“Hey.” She sets one cup on my bedside table and leans down to kiss my forehead. “How's the ankle?”
“Still attached.” I shift against the pillows, wince. The cast is fresh, heavy. A constant reminder of how badly I pushed myself. Six weeks minimum, the doctor said. Then months of physiotherapy. I'll be lucky if I walk without a limp by summer.
“How's Logan?”
She scrunches her nose, hands wrapped around her coffee cup like a shield. “He's... struggling.”
“He won't talk to me.”
“I know.”
The words sit between us. Heavy. Logan has been avoiding me since we got here. When I try to visit, he's asleep. When I call, he doesn't answer. Emma goes in, closes the door, stays for hours.
I should be grateful. I am grateful. But there's a small, ugly part of me that resents it too.
“He's having nightmares,” Emma says quietly. “He wakes up thinking he's still tied to that beam. He won't admit it to you, but he's shaken. Really shaken.”
“He's been through worse.”
“Has he?” Emma raises an eyebrow. “Has he ever watched his best friend sign away everything to save his life? Has he ever been beaten within an inch of his life while someone he loves was forced to watch?”
I look away, jaw tight.
“He feels guilty, Kai. He thinks this is his fault. That if he'd been faster, smarter, stronger, none of this would have happened.”
“That's bullshit.”
“I know, but guilt doesn't care about logic.” She reaches for my hand, fingers threading through mine. “He'll come around. He just needs time. And someone who isn't you to talk to first.”
“Why not me?”
“Because you're the one he feels guilty about.” Emma squeezes my hand. “He can't fall apart in front of you. Not yet.”
I close my eyes, exhaling slowly. “Thank you for being there for him.”
“He's family. Your family is my family.” She pauses. “Speaking of which... have you talked to Victor?”
The name lands like a stone in still water. I open my eyes, stare at the ceiling again.
“He's two doors down. We've exchanged a few words.”
“That's not talking.”
“It's more than we've done in years.”
Emma is quiet for a moment. When she speaks again, her voice is gentle. “He took a bullet for me, Kai. For you. That has to mean something.”
“It means he's not the complete monster I thought he was.” I run my free hand over my face. “It doesn't erase thirty years of being a shit father.”
“No. It doesn't.” She shifts closer, thumb tracing circles on my knuckles. “But maybe it's a place to start.”
I don't answer. I don't know how.
“Have you thought about talking to someone?” Emma asks. “A professional, I mean. A therapist.”
The word makes me tense. “I'm not?—“
“Kai.” Her voice is firm but kind. “Only you know what you’ve been through. I can’t even begin to imagine it. And now you're lying in a hospital bed trying to process all of it alone.” She pauses. “That's too much for anyone to carry.”
