Feeling better about everything, I head back to Logan's room, hoping his guest has left. When the door clicks open, the man seems to be talking about me.

"Ah, there he is," the man says, greeting me with a smile and a brief nod. "I'll leave you two be. Seems as though there are things you need to sort out." He pauses, looking back at Logan with a tenderness I recognize from my father. "It was nice. Having you as our guest. I apologize I can no longer give you the care you need. Perhaps he can. Goodbye, Logan."

With that, the man leaves, patting my shoulder as he passes. I'm mildly confused about how much the guy knew, but shake myself when I see Logan's less-than-pleasant glare. A lump forms in my throat, and I attempt to swallow it.

No luck.

"You're up!" The words are simple, and I know the exhaustion in my voice kind of destroys the high energy I was going for. Instead, they fall flat and sour my tongue.

"Not interested," Logan rasps weakly as I step forward.

My heart drops, and my stomach clenches. There was a part of me that warned against this, but I'd ignored it, shadowed it with a hope that's now being crushed. My eyes aren't wet yet, and I take a deep breath to ensure it doesn't come.

"Hey," I start again, sitting beside his bed. I try clearing my throat again. "My, uh…friend. He's a cop. Told me about your place."

Logan scoffs. "My place. It was just—"

Wracking coughs interrupt him, and I catch the tremble of his body as each one takes the little energy he has and obliterates it.

"Maybe you shouldn't speak for a bit," I offer, earning me a scowl. Still, I gotta keep trying. "Listen, if you don't have a place to stay, you're more than welcome to stay with me."

Distrust is a set of heavy clouds blurring the deep color of Logan's eyes.

"Maybe if you have someone looking out for you, you could go back to school?"

Logan shakes his head, his eyes falling to the sheets he lays upon. "I don't want to live with you, Aden," he says, ignoring the sting I know lingers in his throat. "No one's looked after me, and the one I thought would," he continues, pausing briefly to meet my eyes with poorly concealed betrayal, "didn't."

I know he's talking about me, but I don't want to make excuses for the past. I want to endeavor to do better in the future. "I'm sorry, Logan. I am. But it's different now. I don't live at the estate anymore. Mary's not around to make decisions on my behalf."

"And when she inevitably comes around?" he snaps, aggravation furrowing his brows. "I know you live under a roof your parents provide. Don't fucking offer aid when you know damn well it'll just fall apart again."

"It won't fall apart again."

"You don't know that!" Logan lashes out.

A passing nurse steps in, irritably reminding us where we are. I grumble out an apology that he doesn't care to respond to. That's fine. It's not like I actually felt any remorse. Douchebag.

Heart heavy, soul compressing beneath Logan's vindictive glare, I set aside the bag with our food and rake my hands through my hair. "Look. All I'm saying is that you need somewhere to stay. A roof over your head. I can provide that, and I'm sure there are ways to negate Mary's bullshit."

Logan's eyes widen at my mother's name. He wasn't around when mom became unusable. She didn't deserve that title, no matter that she was the one who birthed me.

"If we have to, I'm sure a move is…plausible."

Henry comes to my mind when the words leave my mouth. I know he'd shelter us if we needed it, but I also know his house is a work in progress. Roof full of holes, floorboards rotted out. Smoker stains splotching the otherwise beige walls. He bought it as a fixer, so that kind of came with the territory. It didn't mean he'd started repairs, though.

"You're very unconvincing," Logan quietly muttered. His voice was getting worse, the pain in his tone rising.

I take a deep breath, knowing full well that my following words will either convince him to stay with me or further embolden him to leave. "Logan, I will do whatever I need to do to get you off the streets. I know whatever happened with that man lost you your home, and you're fucking kidding yourself if you think I want you back out there.

"I can handle bills and groceries. If all goes according to plan, I'll have a job by the turn of the new year, too, and Mary's influence will be nonexistent."

"And if it doesn't go according to plan?" Logan challenges, though, thankfully, his eyes have a faint glimmer of hope in them.

"Then I'll follow you out." The words come out before I can think about them, but honestly, there wasn't much to think about. It has—and always would be—a fact that Logan is the love of my life. Unless he tells me to fuck off, I have no intention of leaving his side again.

Logan rubs his face with both hands and groans. For a moment, I think he's about to tell me to leave, that he never wants to see me again. But then….

"Seeing as I don't have many choices," he says, taking a steadying breath and dropping his hands, "I suppose that'll be…fine."

Forcing the words out like that concerns me, but I set it aside. He agreed! He actually agreed! And I'll take that win for what it is. I know an overbearing grin has split my expression, and I do nothing to fix it. "That's great!" I manage through my excitement, picking the cafeteria bag up again. "I got breakfast, so let's dig in!"

He's still wary when I place the burrito in his hand, the foil still warm. I only have to wait a few seconds before he's fervently digging into it.

We don't talk for the rest of the time I'm there, with his throat having gotten worse. But he returns my goodbye with a wave, and I leave with adrenaline coursing through my veins. It was the little things that counted, and boy, were these worth having.