“You operated on me? I thought you were a neurosurgeon.”
He gave a soft, weary laugh. “We learn the basics for a reason. It wasn't a complicated procedure, but I wasn't about to let anyone else touch you.”
I turned my palm up to intertwine my fingers with his. “You were hurt, too…”
He touched his bandaged shoulder. “Just a flesh wound. Nothing that could stop me from taking care of you.”
“The girls?” I asked, my voice gaining a little strength.
“They’re fine. My mom flew in from L.A. this morning and is with them. You’ve been sleeping since the surgery last night.”
“How are theyreally, Logan? Not just physically. What they saw…”
“They were terrified. I had the sitter bring them here last night, after you were out of surgery. They saw you were just sleeping, and that helped calm them.”
“And Peter?”
“They asked if ‘the bad man died.’ At the time, I could say no. He was alive when they brought him in, but his condition is… dire. If he survives, he’ll spend the rest of his life in prison. We found out why he was really on the run.”
“It wasn't just the debts?”
“He killed his supplier. The new one put a price on his head. He came to New York to get money from us—to fund his escape and get his revenge all at once.”
“He was going to shoot Rory.”
“And you saved her.”
“I would give my life for them, Logan.”
“I know. But what you did… charging in there after I asked you to wait… that was reckless, Evy.”
“Oh, really?” I managed a weak smile. “And confronting an armed drug addict with a couple of kitchen knives was the picture of caution, Dr. Turner?”
“I love you,” he said, his voice dropping, all teasing gone. “I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost you. Or if anything had happened to the girls.”
“You didn’t lose me. And we didn’t lose our girls. We’re okay.”
He leaned in, and his lips met mine in a kiss that seemed to stitch my soul back together. I could have sworn the pain in my side vanished completely.
We broke apart at a soft knock on the door. Logan called for them to enter, and a nurse peered in.
“Dr. Turner, your patient has visitors. Is she up for it?”
Logan looked to me for the answer.
“Of course,” I said. “I’m fine. When can I go home?”
“In two days,” he stated firmly, then nodded to the nurse. “Send them in.”
“Two days?” I protested. “But I feel fine!”
“And who’s the doctor here?”
“I’m practically a doctor! I have nineteen seasons ofGrey’s Anatomyunder my belt!”
He rolled his eyes, a genuine grin finally breaking through. “Noted. But this time, the one with the actual medical degree is giving the orders.”
He kissed me again, quickly, as the door opened.
