“I haven't told her about my father. About Hammond Industries. About any of it.”
Logan is quiet for a moment. “Yeah. I figured.”
“When they admitted me, it was as Alexander Hammond.” I close my eyes. “Maddox scrubbed the records, but it took him an hour. Emma could have seen the chart. One of the nurses could have called me by the wrong name. I've been lucky.”
“So tell her.”
“It's not that simple.”
“It is, actually. You open your mouth and words come out.”
I shoot him a look. “She opened up to me. About her family. Her ex. Everything. And I've been sitting here with a secret that could blow up everything between us.”
“So stop sitting on it.”
“What if she doesn't understand? What if she looks at me differently?”
Logan shakes his head. “You're scared. I get it. But the longer you wait, the worse it gets. If she finds out from someone else, from the press, or a Google search, you're done. She'll never trust you again.”
I know he's right. I've known it for weeks. Knowing and doing are different things.
“I'll tell her,” I say. “Soon.”
“Don't wait too long.” He stands, grabs his coat. “I'll check in tomorrow. Get some rest.”
“Logan.”
He pauses at the door.
“Thanks. For looking out for her.”
His expression softens. “You would do the same for me and any woman I was serious about.”
“You know it. Hurry up and meet her.”
He snorts. “Working on it.”
He leaves. I'm alone with my thoughts again.”
The nurse comes at six to help me practice with the crutches. Young, patient, unfailingly positive in a way that makes me want to scream.
“You're doing great, Mr. Rhodes!”
I'm not doing great. I'm shuffling across the room like an old man, arms trembling, sweat beading on my forehead from the effort of staying upright.
“Let's try to make it to the window today,” she says brightly.
The window is fifteen feet away. Might as well be a marathon.
I grit my teeth, keep moving. One step. Another. Crutches dig into my armpits. Ankle throbs inside the cast. Ribs scream at me to stop.
I don't stop.
When I finally reach the window, I'm breathing hard, gripping the crutch handles so tight my knuckles go white.
“Excellent progress! Tomorrow we'll try the hallway.”
She leaves me there, staring out at the city.
