ever craved. “You’re still here,” she whispered.
He swung around then sat beside her on the cot. As before, the ancient springs creaked in protest under the additional weight.
Reaching down, Logan took her hand and laced her fingers through his. “I’ll never leave you again.”
The magnetic force of his sincerity took her breath away. For one fleeting moment, every dream she’d ever had about this man and their future together seemed possible.
In the next moment, an onslaught of images beckoned for release and a feeling of dread balled in her stomach.
Her vision blurred.
Logan slung his arm across her shoulder to steady her. “Doc. Do something. She’s losing color.”
Dr. Shane was at her feet in an instant. But he was too close.
She suddenly felt trapped.
“No. Please. Step back.” She waved her hand in his direction. “I need…” She let her voice trail off, not sure what she needed. “Just…give me a moment.”
Breathing slowly—very slowly—she pressed her thumb and forefinger to the bridge of her nose and ordered her mind to slow down. But her thoughts continued running in countless directions. There were too many images fighting for release.
Sights, sounds, smells all came at her at once, attacking her in rapid succession.
“Breathe, Megan,” Logan urged softly in her ear. “Just breathe.”
She tried to do as he suggested. In. Out. In. Out.
Her efforts only made matters worse.
Blood roared in her ears.
Logan’s grip on her shoulder tightened, reminding her she wasn’t alone in this terrible, terrible mess.
Why was there no comfort in the thought?
Was she fooling herself? Was she grasping at a dream she’d built in her head over the last five years?
Confusion and panic tangled together in her mind. Rather than giving in to either, she called on one of her favorite verses. Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavey laden, and I will give you rest.
One heartbeat passed.
And another.
By the third she shrugged away from Logan’s support and tried to stand.
“Megan,” he began.
“No.” She thrust a palm in his direction. “Don’t help me. I need to do this on my own.”
Brave words. Necessary words. She had to call on her strength, like always, or risk losing more control than ever.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t quite get her feet underneath her. Logan grasped her elbow gently. Once she caught her balance, she stepped away from him.
Pain shot through her right foot. And she lowered back down on the cot.
“What is it?” he asked. “What—”
“Just wait a minute, Logan.” Dr. Shane cut him off. “Give her a moment to find her bearings.”
Logan gave an unhappy grunt in reply, but surprisingly didn’t argue this time. Keeping his eyes on her, he moved to the opposite end of the cell in three ground-eating strides, then leaned a shoulder against the brick wall.
The hard look he shot Dr. Shane reminded her of…of…
She pressed a shaky hand to her quivering stomach and felt the knots tighten beneath her touch. What was wrong with her? How could she possibly be afraid?
This was Logan. Her Logan.
Confused, she turned her attention back to Dr. Shane. There was certainly nothing threatening about him. His clear blue eyes held compassion while a hint of concern showed on his handsome face. His dark hair shot out in every direction, as though he’d run his hands through it too many times.
He slowly crouched in front of her, placed his fingertips on the inside of her wrist and began counting her heartbeats. After a moment, he nodded in approval. “Do you hurt anywhere other than your head?”
“My back aches a little. But that could be from sleeping on this cot.”
He cracked a smile. “I wouldn’t rule out the possibility.” His smile disappeared. “Where else does it hurt?”
“Sometimes…it hurts to breathe.” She drew in a sharp breath and winced. “In my ribs.”
Nodding, Dr. Shane probed the area gently. She pulled back and hissed when his fingers landed on an especially tender spot.
At the sound of her gasp, Logan pushed away from the wall and rushed forward. “Megan.”
Dr. Shane glared him back a step. Then another. Impatience flared out of both men, but Logan finally relented.
Muttering under his breath, the doctor turned back to Megan. “Do you hurt anywhere else?”
“My ankle.”
He lifted her foot and Megan stifled a gasp. The swelling told its own story. Sometime during the evening she’d acquired a minor sprain.
Still holding her foot, Dr. Shane reached for his bag. Digging inside with his free hand, he pulled out a roll of linen bandages and began wrapping her ankle with deft fingers.
“Do you remember falling?” he asked, eyes focused on his work.
Megan forced her mind to concentrate. To focus. Surely a fall that had resulted in a sprained ankle would be somewhere in her memory. “I remember…” She searched her mind. And searched. And searched. “Nothing.”
The doctor must have heard the panic in her voice, because his eyes softened. “Don’t worry.” He tied off the bandage with a firm knot. “Your memory will return with time.”
If only she could believe him. If only she could remember what had happened in Mattie’s boudoir. If only she could say that she knew, without a doubt, she hadn’t killed Cole and that she knew who did. The man who killed him was…
He was…
She glanced at Logan. Then just as quickly folded her hands in her lap and looked away. Her gaze caught sight of the blood on her dress and she choked back a sob. “I have to change my clothes.” She couldn’t hide the desperation in her voice.
“Of course.” Dr. Shane touched her clasped hands and squeezed. “Bella is gathering everything you’ll need. She’ll soon be here to help you.”
“Bella?” Logan hissed. “Who’s Bella?”
“Pastor Beau’s sister and my lovely wife.” Dr. Shane rose and turned to face Logan.
“Your wife?” Logan stared at him for a long, tense moment. “You got married?”
“Two years ago.”
Blinking hard, Logan ran a hand down his face. “You’re married,” he repeated, his voice filled with disbelief. “And I never knew.”
“Our first child is due any day now.”
“A child, too.” Something flashed in Logan’s eyes, something sad and regretful, but he didn’t comment again.
He paced.
Even in the confines of the small jail cell he moved with unmistakable authority. There was no hesitation in him, no pause. Every step he took said Logan Mitchell knew who he was and what he wanted out of life. Handsome, kind, capable, he could have his pick of women.
And he’d chosen Megan.
But five long years have passed. The thought settled over her like a heavy weight. In that time she’d changed. She’d gone from a child who helped around the orphanage to a woman in