“If you want to see him, I’m sure she’d bring him by.”

“I wanted to watch him.” He peeked up, disappointed.

“I’m not sure if your father would like that,” I explained. “I’m not going to be able to really take care of him for a couple weeks, and—”

“I can ask him!” Oliver scrambled out of the chair and raced to the door before I could speak up. “He’s right outside.”

My voice vanished, lost somewhere in my constricting throat alongside my held breath. Blood raced through my veins, leaving me paralyzed in silence.

Logan was there. Of course he was.

“Daddy!” Oliver pulled open the heavy door, struggling to keep it from closing on himself until a large, familiar hand grabbed the other side, holding it open from the hall. “Daddy, come in.”

I froze, unsure of what to say or do. Logan was seconds from seeing me, and for some reason I was overly concerned that I looked like hell.

What was wrong with me? After everything he put me through, and still…I found myself attracted to just the thought of him. Maybe he’d come in and see the shreds of his check covering the floor. That lightened the heaviness filling my chest.

My hands gripped the blankets for dear life when Oliver grabbed his father’s arm and nearly dragged him into the room. He seemed…different. He looked tired, and was dressed in faded blue jeans and a grey T-shirt that peeked out from his wool coat.

“Hello.”

The word was entirely too soothing, and I felt walls beginning to encase my heart, protecting me and reminding me his voice was nothing more than a lie—a deceitful charm.

I sat silently. Oliver spoke up, tugging at Logan’s coat.

“Can Scout stay with us? Please, Daddy!?”

Logan’s eyes never strayed from mine as he answered. “Of course, if Cassandra doesn’t mind.”

My head bobbed twice. That was all I had, and luckily it was enough. Oliver squealed, thanking both his father and me until Julia wrapped her hand in his and leaned down to whisper in his ear. It took all my effort to keep my eyes focused on Oliver, but by the uncomfortable tingling of my skin, I knew Logan was still watching me intently.

“Okay,” Oliver answered Julia. He smiled at me. “I have to go so Daddy can talk.”

Julia half chuckled, and I had a feeling he wasn’t supposed to say that part.

“But you can talk to me, too,” he added.

Before I could agree with him and tell him how much I wanted to talk only to him, Julia chimed in. “Why don’t we go see if they have Jell-O in the cafeteria?”

Oliver’s big blue eyes brightened. He looked at me and smiled. “Do you like red Jell-O?”

“It’s my favorite.”

“Mine too! I can bring you one.”

“Sounds great.”

Julia began to lead him from the room when he stopped and looked back at Logan. “Just tell her you’re sorry, Daddy.”

Chapter Two

Strength

“You got the flowers, I see.”

That was it? His first words to me after a shallow ‘hello’ were a frivolous observation about the flowers? How could he stand there and talk about flowers?

I met his gaze and gave a drawn out, “Mm-hmm.” No way was he getting a ‘thank you’ out of me.

‘Awkward’ was the only word to describe the tension building between us the longer he stood there. He finally shifted his gaze, which flickered from the flowers, went once around the room, and landed on the floor beside my bed.

Confused, I watched the tormented look soften his face as the corner of his mouth curled up. He bent down, picking up a piece of the destroyed check.

Pride filled me. That’s right—I’m not one to be bought.

“I see you’ll be needing cash next time.” His voice was sweet and almost humorous, nearly breaking my resolve to stay cool and urging me to act on impulse by chucking the vase of flowers beside me straight at him.

Grinding my back teeth, I narrowed my eyes. “Go for it, and you’ll have some expensive confetti for your next orgy,” I hissed. I hadn’t realized exactly how pissed I was until I’d seen that damn grin on his gorgeous, unshaven face.

He held firm, unaffected. “Never been to an orgy. Not my scene.” He gave a tight-lipped, easy smile, as though we were enjoying a casual conversation.

“Julia could have brought Oliver herself, so why are you here?”

His gaze fell to my chest when I sat up further, a frown marring his once-calm expression. I tugged at my blankets, pulling them higher to hide the deep bruises peeking out.

He cleared his throat, soft and remorseful eyes rising back to mine. “A few reasons—one being my son insisted I come.”

He was a good father, yet that didn’t change a thing, I told myself.

“However, it all comes down to the fact that I couldn’t stay away any longer. I promise, I tried. These past days have been pure hell, my nights restless with nightmares tormenting me.”

I knew all about nightmares. He got no sympathy from me.

“As hard as I tried to give you space and keep myself from stepping foot in this damn hospital, I can’t do it any longer. I’m going mad not being near you, not knowing that you’re really okay. That you’re safe.”

I had no response. His words cut through me, leaving me further muddled. Truthfully, I just couldn’t deal with the emotions his words awoke inside me. Instead, I rolled my head to the side, facing the window, ignoring his movements around the room.

“You can go,” I said finally, closing my eyes so tight that bright-yellow spots were all I could see beneath the lids.

“No, I think I’ll stay a while. Oliver is coming back up with your Jell-O, so I’ll wait here till then.”

“Suit yourself.”

Please leave, please leave, please leave. The ache from his presence was too much to bear. My breathing grew more ragged with each passing second as anger stewed within.

“Cassandra, I—” I heard him sigh, then felt the bed dip.

He was not sitting on my bed!

I looked back and pushed him off. His face was stunned, almost hurt. Good!

“Get the hell out, Logan! You’ve won, all right!?” He stood there, staring at me. “You proved I was just like every other girl you meet, ready to hand herself over for you to devour. Now LEAVE. ME. ALONE!” I yelled. My head rolled back to the side and I buried my face in the pillow, too numb to cry and praying he’d just leave.

I maneuvered my body to lie on my side, my injured leg still flat on the bed and my back to him. To my relief, he never spoke again, but I could feel him inches behind me, my body soaring to life when his warm hand settled on the back of my neck.

Something inside me broke. His touch was so tender, so soothing; it devastated me that my body still reacted to it. I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. My throat constricted, heart racing as sobs bubbled inside me. I sucked in a deep breath, cringing at the agony my chest endured. Hot, thick tears sprung to my eyes, but I fought to hold control—fought to keep them from pouring out.

I couldn’t allow him to see the real damage he did under the surface, beneath my bruised and battered body: the gaping hole he left in my heart.

Logan’s fingers drifted down my spine and back up again, attempting to soothe me further. But the problem was that it was him causing the need to be soothed. His fingers slid down again over the fabric of my gown, enraging me, reminding me of the harsh reality of what I was to him.