“Like I got sideswiped by a garbage truck.” Nick attempted a smile that probably looked more like a grimace.
“You scared the hell out of everyone,” Logan said, voice dropping lower. “Especially me.”
The admission hung in the air between them. Nick didn’t know what to do with it, this concern from someone who had no reason to care. “Sorry about the drama.”
The door swung open as a doctor entered, her white coat pristine, electronic tablet in hand. “Mr. Costa, how are we feeling?” She continued without waiting for a response. “Your test results show low iron levels, but we couldn’t find anything else wrong with you. Blood work came back normal aside from the anemia.”
Normal. Nick wanted to throw the word at the wall and watch it shatter like a cheap plate.
“We’d like to keep you overnight for observation,” she continued, not looking up from her tablet. “Just to be safe.”
“No.” Nick pushed himself upright, ignoring the dizziness that followed. “I’m not staying.”
“Mr. Costa, I strongly recommend—”
“I said no.” His voice trembled despite his efforts to steady it. What was the point? Years of doctors, specialists, tests, and no one had ever found anything conclusive. Just more shrugs, more iron supplements, more suggestions that maybe it was all in his head.
The doctor’s expression tightened, but she nodded. “I’ll have the discharge papers prepared. Against medical advice, of course.”
Whatever. After the doctor walked out, Logan leaned forward, concern etched across his features. “Why are you so determined to leave?”
Something in his voice—genuine worry with zero judgment and about six tons of care—cracked Nick’s defenses. He curled deeper into himself, suddenly cold despite the warmth of the room.
“Because no one ever finds anything,” Nick admitted quietly. “I’ve been dealing with these episodes since I was a kid. Every doctor, every test, they all end the same way. I’m not wasting my time for another round of 'we don't know what’s wrong with you.'”
Logan’s brows furrowed, the vinyl chair creaking beneath him. “You’ve been dealing with this alone all this time?”
The question hit harder than it should’ve. Yes, he’d been dealing with it alone. His mom had tried, back when she was alive, but after she died, his stepdad had made it clear that Nick’s “attention-seeking episodes” were an inconvenience. Then his stepdad had remarried, but Bev had been more concerned with her cheating husband than her sick stepson.
Myron tried to help, but he couldn’t understand what it felt like to have your own body betray you while everyone told you it was all in your head.
“I manage,” Nick whispered.
Logan leaned closer, hands loose on his knees. The man’s whole body was one big offer of comfort, but Nick didn’t know how to take it. All that muscle, all that patience. Why was this guy wasting time on him?
Nick tried swinging his legs off the bed. They barely reached the linoleum. Hospital air pricked at the hair on his thighs. Logan was already in motion. His hand settled at Nick’s elbow, supporting but not coddling. Nick sucked in a breath. Warmth radiated up through Logan’s palm, solid and real and a little overwhelming.
He glanced up and met Logan’s gaze. Those eyes, dark and unreadable, watched him like he was the only thing in the room. Nick’s heartbeat tripped.
“Careful,” Logan murmured.
Nick’s knees went soft. The room spun sideways. Logan’s arm circled his back, holding him upright without effort.
“Easy,” Logan said, the word rumbling low. “Just give it a second.”
The air was too thick, and the gown was riding up. Nick just wanted out of here before the walls closed in.
He tried to jerk his arm away, but that made the dizziness worse.
“Let’s get you dressed,” Logan said.
Nick focused on the bag with his clothes folded at the bottom. Fumbling with the drawstring, he wrestled out his black jeans and faded tee. His hands shook. It took two tries to get the pants on right. Logan steadied him, fingers gentle but strong, lifting the waistband over Nick’s hips and helping him snap the button.
The shirt went easier, but Nick still missed the head hole and nearly poked himself in the eye. Logan made a quiet sound, almost a laugh, and untwisted the fabric before easing it over Nick’s head.
No one had dressed him since he was a kid.
He wanted to say something smart, but nothing came to mind, his brain replaced by static.
