“She’s awake, and she’s asking for you.”
I closed my eyes and hung my head. Christ. I almost fell to the floor, but caught myself. I nodded. The doctor had been waiting for me. He gestured down the hallway. “If you follow me, I’ll take you to her.”
I turned. Logan and Sam had come closer. Logan shot a confused look at Nate and folded his arms over his chest. Sam never looked away from me. A wave of tenderness came over me. I just wanted to hold her, tell her everything was going to be fine, but I couldn’t. I turned, without saying a word to my family, and followed the doctor. I had a different girl to comfort right now.
CHAPTER TWENTYEIGHT
SAMANTHA
We were waiting in that lobby for what seemed like forever. I couldn’t handle it anymore and went outside to get away. Nate had seemed dazed when we came in, but he told us what happened. Hearing that Marissa had been hit instead of Mason filled me with so many different emotions. I was grateful it hadn’t been Mason. I was angry at Marissa, even though I didn’t know why. That anger turned to Nate’s fraternity. They wanted to hurt my soul mate. I breathed because of him, and they wanted to threaten that? To hurt him? I wanted to hurt them back. Then all of that faded as I pictured Marissa crumpled on the ground, then in a hospital bed. I’d been there almost a year ago.
I was a mess.
“I thought I would’ve found you on the phone with Jax.”
Logan had come outside. His hands were pushed in his jeans, making them slip down an inch, accentuating his already lean body. As I stared at him, all the bullshit from the year came back to me and I admitted to myself that I could’ve loved Logan. I really could’ve, but it was Mason. It was always going to be Mason. I meant the words I had told Jackson, that all roads would’ve led to him.
He was my life. He was my breath. He was my heart.
I couldn’t lose my heart.
“Sam?”
“Oh.” A husky laugh came out of me. “No. Knowing Heather, she’d be in her car and headed here. I meant it, Logan, when I told you before that it’s the Threesome Fearsome again.”
“Oh.” He sounded sad, but he shook his head and came to lean against the wall beside me. Keeping his hands in his pockets, he leaned forward, his head hanging down for a moment. He glanced up at me and gave me a brief smile. “That doesn’t mean you can’t have a friend. I didn’t mean it like that.”
He was hot and deadly to others, but he could be adorable. His brown hair had grown an inch longer and some of it had slipped over his forehead. His dark eyes had a slight mischievous glint in them, and the corner of his mouth was curved up in a half-grin, half-smirk. Without thinking, I reached out and pushed some of the strands of hair back, smoothing my hand over his forehead. He closed his eyes, and I finished, tucking more strands back behind his ear. As my hand fell away, he opened his eyes. A soft smile came over him. “That felt nice.”
My heart was heavy. I loved them both so much, but I couldn’t keep it in anymore. A whisper left me, “It’s Mason for me.”
He closed his eyes again. “Sam,” he started in a murmur.
“Stop.” I touched his shoulder. “I have to say this. I know you want to wait until he knows, but this is what I’m going to say to him, and you’re wrong. We don’t have to wait to talk about this before he knows. It won’t make a difference. I love him. He will always be the one for me. There might’ve been the possibility of others, but when Mason came into my life, all those possibilities left. My future’s been set ever since I met him. I told Jackson before, my path will always lead to Mason. The only way it wouldn’t have is if I had never met him.”
“Sam.” He straightened. He sounded so tired. “Stop. Please.”
“No. Even if it isn’t true, what Tate said, it doesn’t matter.”
“You’re right.” He pushed off from the wall and stood facing me. “It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you kept it to yourself. You never should’ve done that. Something like that, something that big, would only have caused distance and problems. Fuck, Sam.” He lifted his hand and raked it through his hair.
I held back a grin at his gesture. Whenever he was frustrated or nervous, his hand always went to his hair. He’d grab a handful like he did now, and he would keep his hand there, just holding onto it.
He noticed my reaction. “What?”
“Nothing.” But I couldn’t keep it in. A slight chuckle slipped out and I pointed to his hand. “You always grab your hair.”
“I do?” He released his hair and laughed. “I had no idea. That’s embarrassing.”
“It’s cute. It’s you. It’s Logan.”
He rolled his eyes and groaned. “What was I saying? Oh yeah.” He snapped his fingers and pointed at me. “You.”