That alone meant more than Logan could fully comprehend.
For years, his father had ignored him whenever he stepped out of line, whenever he wasn’t who he was supposed to be.
But now, he was standing in Adrian’s hospital room, holding a large bag filled with gifts while Cole carefully placed a small plastic Christmas tree in the corner.
And that meant everything.
“What are you doing here?” Logan asked, his voice hoarse with sleep, his fingers absentmindedly squeezing Adrian’s where they still lay between them.
He turned to Adrian, who was already looking at him with that small, knowing smile, the one that made sweat beads form on Logan’s skin and butterflies flutter in his stomach.
“It’s Christmas Eve,” Jane said matter-of-factly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. She arched a brow at him, her tone caught somewhere between exasperation and affection. “You didn’t think we’d just sit at Mom and Dad’s like everything was fine while you were here, did you?” She had that big sister voice, the one that was lined with “you’re stupid vibes” without ever saying the words.
Logan blinked at them—at all of them—his throat tightening as the weight of it settled behind his ribs. No. He hadn’t thought they would come. But here they were, every one of them, carrying Christmas with them into the pale light of this hospital room.
And so they stayed.
Through the night, through the slow passing of hours beneath the soft hum of machines, they sat together, sharing food, passing plates, laughter rising in gentle waves against the sterile air.
Samantha sat comfortably beside Adrian on the small couch in the softly lit room. Her voice was bright and inviting, imbued with warmth and a relaxed ease, as if they had known each other for years. She asked him questions effortlessly, her tone friendly and curious, eager to learn more about him. Logan could see how it steadied Adrian, how it drew something soft across his features that had not been there in weeks.
And Logan, with Jane’s little girl tucked in his arms, let himself lean into that moment. He played with her through the evening, making faces, whispering nonsense sounds that sent her into fits of delighted giggles, her tiny hands reaching for his nose, for his chin.
Adrian watched them with a gaze that shimmered, the corners of his mouth tilting up in a smile that spoke of longing and love all at once.
“Wanna meet Uncle Adrian?” Logan cooed, voice soft as he shifted Olivia closer, mindful of the lines trailing from Adrian’s body, of the fragility beneath the smile.
Olivia gurgled, babbled something that might have been agreement, her hands reaching again. Logan held her carefully, close enough for Adrian to see her, to let her tiny fingers curl against his own trembling ones.
And Adrian melted, a soft sound leaving him, a tenderness pooling in his gaze as he traced every inch of her with his eyes, as though memorizing her for some future that felt both too near and too far.
Later, over dessert, Jane leaned back in her chair with a knowing smirk. “You know,” she said, her voice full of teasing affection, “you used to swear you’d never be the kind of guy who got all gooey-eyed over a baby. I think I’m watching you eat those words, little brother.”
Logan rolled his eyes, but there was no heat in it, only a quiet glow beneath the weariness.
Even their father, slow to thaw as he always had been, began to soften by degrees. A word here. A faint smile there. And in the hush that followed one shared glance between them all—a breath caught between one heartbeat and the next—the world, for just a moment, felt almost okay.
March 18, 2021—Seattle, Washington—Three Months Later
Loganstoodalonenearthe arrivals gate, hands buried deep in his coat pockets, the seams worn thin where he’d been rubbing his thumb raw these past weeks. Logan spotted them before they saw him—Tammi and Aaron, their faces worn by time and worry. In just four months, grief had carved its way into their posture, their expressions, the very way they walked.
Logan stepped forward without hesitation, heart pounding. The Hebrew he’d been practicing wasn’t perfect yet, but it was enough. He wanted them to know they were safe, that they were wanted here. He had insisted on picking them up himself, despite their protests.
His mother had been the one to insist they stay in the guest house, not a hotel. “They’re family,” she said simply, and that was that. No argument had stood a chance against her quiet conviction. Logan was grateful for it—for her, for all of them. His family had folded Adrian into their lives without pause, and when Logan had begun to break under the weight of it all, they held him together.
The drive home passed mostly in silence. Logan watched them in the rearview mirror, saw their quiet awe at the sprawling trees and wide streets, the way their fingers fidgeted in their laps, the silent worry in their eyes. He filled the silence with what he could—updates on Adrian’s treatment, reassurances laced with honesty.
At the house, Logan carried their luggage despite Aaron’s half-hearted protest. He didn’t say much, but Logan saw something flicker in his eyes—relief,maybe, or something gentler. The guest house was modest, warm, tucked into the quiet edges of the property.
They stayed just long enough to drop their bags, take a quick shower, change into fresh clothes, and exchange a few gentle words with his mother, who welcomed them with open arms and her calm, steady demeanor unique to her.
And then it was time.
The walk through the hospital was quiet, and every step seemed to weigh a little more than the last. Logan could feel the tension in the way Tammi clutched her purse, in the slight tremble in Aaron’s jaw. He guided them gently, like you might guide someone blindfolded through a dream they never wanted to enter.
The nurses greeted Logan with soft and knowing smiles as they passed through the corridors. They had seen him every day, had watched him fold himself into the chair beside Adrian’s bed, memorizing every shift in his breath, every tremor of pain, every exhausted whisper. They had seen him fall asleep with his forehead pressed against Adrian’s frail shoulder, as if willing his strength into the body that once held so much life.
When they reached the door, Logan paused—just long enough to steady himself—then opened it and stepped aside to let them in first.
