Prairie

 

I take the familiar elevator up to the ICU, balancing a tray with three coffee cups in one hand and a bouquet of pink daisies in the other. Sharon had called this morning while Logan and I were still under the covers. She said that Brooke had woken up last night but she didn’t call me right away because the doctor wanted to order some immediate tests. She was still lucid when they brought her back to her room early this morning and her doctor gave the go ahead for visitors.

I watch through the glass sides of the elevator as we ascend, trying but failing miserably to shake off my concern for Logan. I couldn’t sleep last night and happened to look out my window to see him sitting in his truck outside my building. The first thing I noticed was the broken taillight and smashed rear window, a lump of fear sitting in my stomach as I knocked on the window. I took him in the minute I slid into the passenger seat. Swollen knuckles, red and scraped. The splattering of blood on his otherwise clean white T-shirt, and that vacant, shameful look in his dark brown eyes that I’ve seen so many times but have been unable to fix.

I’m not stupid, I know he wasn’t just working at the club. Something happened, something he feels he needs to protect me from. But the thing is, the more we keep from each other, the more we’re holding ourselves back from a healthy future. And I realized then that as tempting as it is to turn a blind eye and simply focus on the good parts, I don’t want that with Logan. I want more. I want messy, I want complicated and I want to be honest with each other. We deserve a second shot at making it work.

That’s why I’m going to a meeting tonight. I want to talk to Holly and get her advice on how to broach the subject of my assault with Logan. He isn’t just anyone to me, he’s everything. He has been since I was seventeen. And he needs to know what he’s getting into. He needs to know that some nights I wake up in a panic, surrounded by rumpled bedsheets and bad memories. He needs to know that I still have triggers, a deep voice or someone innocently sneaking up on me has the power to rip open my neatly stitched together wounds and the pain sometimes last for several days. And aside from all of that, I need to know exactly what he’s doing for Zavier Kane and how we can get him out of it.

Turning the corner, I see Sharon chatting with one of the nurses at the ICU desk and I make my way over. I put my thoughts of Logan and our future to rest for the time being and give in to the smile that forms on my face the minute Sharon spots me and returns the sentiment.

“Am I too late, is she still awake?”

She takes the coffee from my hand and smiles gratefully before she replies, “You bet she is sweetie, and she’s been asking for you.” She links her arm with mine and we head for Brooke’s room.

“How’s your mom doing?” she asks.

“She’s good! Her and Neil went to Vegas recently. She loved it,” I grin.

“That’s wonderful, good for her. You make sure and tell her that I say hello.”

“Of course, actually I think tha- Trevor?”

We reach the doorway and I’m surprised to see Trevor standing in the corner of the room, his arms crossed over his chest, his stare on Brooke who’s currently getting her IV changed.

“He’s been here all morning,” Sharon whispers. “Brooke never mentioned that she was seeing anyone.”

Before I can respond, Brooke looks up and blinds me with a soft smile. I wait until the nurse is finished before I walk to the bed and set the flowers on the end table. I sit carefully beside her and tuck a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

“Hey,” I say with a smile.

“Do you think I can use this experience as a sympathy card for future auditions?” Brooke asks, her voice hoarse.

“As in, please give me the part because my current job is super dangerous and this one time I got shot?”

“Exactly.”

“Oh Brooke,” Sharon sighs.

I can’t help but chuckle when Brooke shrugs her shoulders innocently. “I think for now we should focus on you getting better. Then we can worry about how to spin this whole thing in your favour.”

A grunt from Trevor behind me has me turning to face him, but his expression remains neutral.

“Prairie, have you met Trevor?” Brookes asks.

“I have actually,” I say. He offers me a nod and remains where he is.

“Brooke honey, I’m going to run down to the cafeteria and fetch your father. We want to speak to the doctor again about your homecare.” Sharon places a kiss on Brooke’s forehead and squeezes her hand before she blinks quickly and leaves the room.

“As I was saying,” Brooke continues. “Trevor has found himself hopelessly in love with me.”

“I’m not in love with you,” Trevor states.

“Did I tell you that the first time I met Trevor here was after our night out at Delve?” Brooke asks me. “He turned me down flat that night, and yet, here he is. I’m telling you, I think he’s obsessed with me.”

“I am not obsessed with you,” he mutters.

I manage to suppress my laugh as he uncrosses his arms and runs his hands over his face in frustration.

“Then why have you been here all morning?” she asks simply.

“I was just checking in. Christ, if I had known you were gonna be a huge pain in my ass, I would have phoned instead.”

“Aww, is this our first fight?” she asks.

“Brooke, stop torturing him, I think he’s had enough,” I tell her with a smile.

“You’re probably right,” she sighs. “You’re free to go. As you can see, I’m fine,” she tells him.

He seems to consider it for a moment before his gaze softens for a split second and he responds, “I’ll be back tonight.” He doesn’t give her a chance to reply before he’s out the door and striding down the hallway. I give her a questioning look but she seems just as confused as I am.

“What was that all about?” I ask.

“Beats me. He was here when I got back from my X-ray,” she shrugs. “I thought I was hallucinating.”

“So, nothing happened that night after the club?”

“Nope. I gave him my best and he didn’t even nibble.”

“Hm.”

“Right?”

The humor vanishes from Brooke’s eyes for a split second when she shifts in the bed and readjusts herself, waving me off when I lean forward to help her.

“Brooke, I don’t know what I would have done if someth-“

“Hey, I’m gonna be fine,” she says. “Everything’s fine. So, get those tears out now girl, cause we have several days of gossip to catch up on,” her voice cracks.

I wipe away the moisture from my cheeks and she does the same. She slides over carefully and pulls me down to the bed. We lie side by side and she gives me a detailed play by play of how she plans to give Trevor a hard time. A small price to pay for bruising her tender ego, she says. When exhaustion claims her, I stay right beside her, staring up at the white tiled ceiling.

Amidst the confusion and uncertainty that currently looms over my future with Logan, I find myself incredibly grateful that Brooke is okay.

 

*

 

When Allan and Sharon came back to the room, I slid from the hospital bed and left Brooke to rest. They still weren’t sure when she’d be able to go home but Sharon said they planned on moving her from the ICU tomorrow if everything continues to go well.

I’m on my way to a meeting now, hoping to catch Holly so we can talk privately and I can get her advice. It’s a short walk from the bus stop to the church, but it’s starting to get dark and I can feel my legs automatically quicken their pace out of habit. As I approach the old building, I spot a couple of regular attendees outside smoking cigarettes. I say hello as I pass and head downstairs to the basement where the meetings are held. Holly is standing near the refreshment table, putting on another pot of coffee when I drape my coat over an empty chair and set my purse down. She glances up just as I head her way.

“Hey, I didn’t know you were coming tonight, I would have picked you up,” she says.

“Oh it’s fine, I was at the hospital and I had a couple errands to run anyways.” She gives me a questioning look and I fill her in on Brooke and the robbery.

“And how are you holding up?” she asks. “Has this brought back any triggers for you?”

“No, actually. I was surprised but I think maybe I’ve been too busy dealing with the shock of it all, and Brooke. I just haven’t had time to make it about me I guess.”

“You let me know if you need to talk to someone,” she says with concern.

“Of course, I will,” I assure her. “Actually, there’s something else I was hoping to talk to you about.”

“I’m all ears,” she says.

I give her the long, undiluted version of me and Logan. Including his time in prison and how we’ve reunited unexpectedly.

“I want to be honest with him,” I say. “I want to tell him, but I just don’t know how. I know he’ll take this on as something he’s to blame for.”

“Because of how he ended up in prison?”

“That, and because it was him that essentially ended things the first time.”

“Do you think Logan has anger issues, is that a concern as well?”

“I don’t know, honestly. He’s never gotten angry like that with me, or ever threatened me and I know he’d never do anything to hurt anyone he cares about.”

“Hm. Has he thought about counseling?”

I explain what Logan told me about anger management in prison and how he felt like it was a waste of time.

“I imagine it felt that way,” she says. “But I think he’d really benefit from therapy. Physical violence might be a way for him to cope when he’s overwhelmed emotionally. If he didn’t have much stability growing up, it could be a way for him to let it all go, so to speak. Aside from that, I think it’s important for you to outline with Logan what exactly you need from him. Explain to him that you need him to be present and clear headed when you do tell him. Don’t be afraid to voice what you need out of this conversation.”

“Okay, thank you,” I sigh. “I feel better actually, talking it out.”

“I’m here whenever you need to talk,” she says. “And if you decide that you want to go back to counseling or after you talk things through with Logan, maybe you want to go together, just say the word and I can help you find the proper fit.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I tell her. She wraps her arm around my shoulders and squeezes tightly.

“Why don’t you share tonight if you’re up for it? We’ve got a few new faces.”

“Yeah, I think I will,” I agree.

Once everyone filters into the room and takes their seats, Holly begins the meeting by sharing her own experience and reminding everyone where they can find additional counseling and therapy should they want it. I walk up to the tattered podium and introduce myself before I begin telling the story that I’ve told countless times before. When I’m finished and I feel Holly beside me, I look up at the group in front of me and my heart drops into my stomach.

Logan.