Read Online Them (Him #3) by Carey Heywood - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Carey Heywood
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chew on the bottom of his jeans with each step he takes. We’re sitting back, TV on, new puppy chewing on a toy, when Will’s phone rings.
He frowns at the caller ID and mutes the TV before answering. I can only hear his end of the conversation.
“Hello.”
. . .
“This is William Price.”
. . .
“He’s one of my students.”
. . .
He drags his hand over his face. “Where were they taken?”
. . .
“How bad is it?
. . .
He stands, weary eyes finding mine. “Yes, I’m on my way.”
As soon as he ends the calls, he turns to me. “Logan, you know, the kid who eats lunch in my class.” I nod. “He and his dad were in a car accident.”
“Are they okay? How did they know to call you?”
“They wouldn’t say over the phone, so I’m not sure. Maybe Logan had my number in his phone. I gave it to him a while ago.”
I nod, standing. “Do you want me to come with you?”
He reaches out, his hand gripping me by the back of my neck as he kisses me hard.
Too soon, he pulls away. “Stay here with the puppy. I’ll call you as soon as I know more.”
I pick up Rascal to keep her from trying to follow Will as he shrugs on his coat and then is out the door. Once he’s gone, I flip the dead bolt as she licks my neck. The silence is comforting as I pray for Will’s student and his father. I’ve never been overly religious. I don’t pray regularly, or maybe I do without calling them prayers or addressing them to God.
I sink back down onto my sofa, where moments ago I cuddled with my husband in our new puppy glow. In moments like this, when life pauses to remind us how fragile it actually is, I think of my family and friends.
Rascal is distracting but not enough. I catch myself checking my phone over and over again as I wait to hear news from Will.
Will
When I get to the hospital, no one will speak to me. I’m not family. As far as I know, the only family around is Logan’s grandmother and she’s in poor health. Trying to explain to a hospital administrator that the only reason I’m here right now is because someone from there called me is equally frustrating.
“He’s a reservist. If you won’t talk to me, can you talk to someone from the military?” I ask, frustration evident in my tone.
That seems to trigger something and she picks up her phone. She didn’t ask me to leave, so even if it’s rude I listen to her call, my stomach dropping when she tells them arrangements need to be made to inform the next of kin.
When she hangs up, her expression softens as she turns back to me.
“Is Logan. .?” I can’t finish my sentence.
She slowly shakes her head, and I cover my mouth with my hand. “Oh, God, his dad?”
She doesn’t confirm but in doing so, I know it’s true.
“What will happen to Logan? Can you tell me if he’s hurt or not? Will Social Services be called?”
She doesn’t answer any of my questions, just directs me back to the waiting room to sit until someone else can speak to me.
I call Sarah as I wait. Hearing her voice calms me, and I regret declining her offer to come with me. Sarah is the one person in the world I trust more than anything else. She gasps when I tell her I believe Logan’s father may have passed away.
“What about Logan?”
“They won’t tell me how he is or let me see him,” I groan.
I don’t hear what she says in reply as a nurse approaches me. “Honey, I have to go.”
“Are you here for Logan Turner?”
“Yes.” I stand.
“Someone from Social Services is here and wanted to speak with you.”
In a daze, I follow her.
Logan regained consciousness the morning after the car accident. He had a broken arm and a concussion. I sat with him as his social worker told him his father had passed away. When the social worker explained he would be moved into a group home as his grandmother was not well enough to care for him and he had no other living relatives, I stepped in.
Sarah and I have been his foster parents since
He frowns at the caller ID and mutes the TV before answering. I can only hear his end of the conversation.
“Hello.”
. . .
“This is William Price.”
. . .
“He’s one of my students.”
. . .
He drags his hand over his face. “Where were they taken?”
. . .
“How bad is it?
. . .
He stands, weary eyes finding mine. “Yes, I’m on my way.”
As soon as he ends the calls, he turns to me. “Logan, you know, the kid who eats lunch in my class.” I nod. “He and his dad were in a car accident.”
“Are they okay? How did they know to call you?”
“They wouldn’t say over the phone, so I’m not sure. Maybe Logan had my number in his phone. I gave it to him a while ago.”
I nod, standing. “Do you want me to come with you?”
He reaches out, his hand gripping me by the back of my neck as he kisses me hard.
Too soon, he pulls away. “Stay here with the puppy. I’ll call you as soon as I know more.”
I pick up Rascal to keep her from trying to follow Will as he shrugs on his coat and then is out the door. Once he’s gone, I flip the dead bolt as she licks my neck. The silence is comforting as I pray for Will’s student and his father. I’ve never been overly religious. I don’t pray regularly, or maybe I do without calling them prayers or addressing them to God.
I sink back down onto my sofa, where moments ago I cuddled with my husband in our new puppy glow. In moments like this, when life pauses to remind us how fragile it actually is, I think of my family and friends.
Rascal is distracting but not enough. I catch myself checking my phone over and over again as I wait to hear news from Will.
Will
When I get to the hospital, no one will speak to me. I’m not family. As far as I know, the only family around is Logan’s grandmother and she’s in poor health. Trying to explain to a hospital administrator that the only reason I’m here right now is because someone from there called me is equally frustrating.
“He’s a reservist. If you won’t talk to me, can you talk to someone from the military?” I ask, frustration evident in my tone.
That seems to trigger something and she picks up her phone. She didn’t ask me to leave, so even if it’s rude I listen to her call, my stomach dropping when she tells them arrangements need to be made to inform the next of kin.
When she hangs up, her expression softens as she turns back to me.
“Is Logan. .?” I can’t finish my sentence.
She slowly shakes her head, and I cover my mouth with my hand. “Oh, God, his dad?”
She doesn’t confirm but in doing so, I know it’s true.
“What will happen to Logan? Can you tell me if he’s hurt or not? Will Social Services be called?”
She doesn’t answer any of my questions, just directs me back to the waiting room to sit until someone else can speak to me.
I call Sarah as I wait. Hearing her voice calms me, and I regret declining her offer to come with me. Sarah is the one person in the world I trust more than anything else. She gasps when I tell her I believe Logan’s father may have passed away.
“What about Logan?”
“They won’t tell me how he is or let me see him,” I groan.
I don’t hear what she says in reply as a nurse approaches me. “Honey, I have to go.”
“Are you here for Logan Turner?”
“Yes.” I stand.
“Someone from Social Services is here and wanted to speak with you.”
In a daze, I follow her.
Logan regained consciousness the morning after the car accident. He had a broken arm and a concussion. I sat with him as his social worker told him his father had passed away. When the social worker explained he would be moved into a group home as his grandmother was not well enough to care for him and he had no other living relatives, I stepped in.
Sarah and I have been his foster parents since
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