Saving logan, p.1
Saving Logan, page 1
Saving Logan
Scarred Hero Romance
Kaci Rose
Five Little Roses Publishing
Copyright
Copyright © 2023, by Kaci Rose, Five Little Roses Publishing. All Rights Reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed,
or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording,
or other electronic or mechanical methods, or by any information storage and
retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher, except
in the case of very brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain
other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination.
Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any
resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies,
events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Editing By: Debbe @ On The Page, Author and PA Services
Proofread By: Laura Bowles
Dedication
To all the men and woman serving our country, past and present. To their friends and families who support them daily.
Contents
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1. Chapter 1
2. Chapter 2
3. Chapter 3
4. Chapter 4
5. Chapter 5
6. Chapter 6
7. Chapter 7
8. Chapter 8
9. Chapter 9
10. Chapter 10
11. Chapter 11
12. Chapter 12
13. Chapter 13
14. Chapter 14
15. Chapter 15
16. Chapter 16
17. Chapter 17
18. Chapter 18
19. Chapter 19
20. Chapter 20
21. Chapter 21
22. Chapter 22
23. Epilogue
24. Other Books by Kaci Rose
25. Connect with Kaci Rose
26. About Kaci Rose
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Now on to the story!
Chapter 1
Chapter 1
Logan
I know my voice is gone. I do.
But to unlearn a habit you've been doing your whole life by simply opening your mouth to speak is a little harder to undo. Every time my doctor or nurses asks me a question, I open my mouth and try to speak.
Then I get the looks of pity. Pity that I can't speak anymore. Pity that I can't remember that I can't speak anymore. Pity for the poor disabled man that they have to deal with day in and day out. Though I'm sure some of that pity is for themselves because when I realize I can't speak anymore, I just get angry all over again.
I guess that's why the hospital shipped me here to Oakside. They described it as the in-between place. While I don’t really need the hospital anymore, I still need help to get back on my feet.
Yesterday, I checked in and got my room. It was a relief to see it. Actually, it feels more like a bed-and-breakfast than a hospital. Not only do I have my own room, but there are hardwood floors, and my own private bathroom. Since there's nothing wrong with my legs other than I have to regain my strength, I was put on the second floor, so the views aren't even half bad.
The bathroom has black and white tile on the floor, and the walls are a light gray with white accents, making it nice and bright in the bathroom. I have a desk that I can sit and work while I look out of the window. There’s also a comfortable little seating area with a TV, a couch, and a couple of chairs on the opposite side of the area where my bed and dresser are. Also, I have a small counter with a coffeepot and room for some snacks as well. All in all, the room is much better than everything that I thought I would find. If I had to pick between here and the hospital, I would definitely choose to stay here.
The other benefit is that all my doctor's appointments are here, along with my physical therapy appointments and any other therapists I might need. They plan to bring in someone to help me learn how to communicate with the outside world now that I can't speak, and they have someone to help me transition into the civilian world since the military doesn't want me anymore.
The military is all I've ever known, so I have no idea how they plan to do get that accomplished. But apparently, they've worked miracles in the past.
I’m pulled out of my thoughts by a knock on the door. Turning, I look to see who it was.
"Is it okay if I come in?" Lexi asks.
When I nod, she smiles and comes to sit on the couch on the opposite side of the room from me. She's always given me plenty of space.
"I wanted to come and see how you were doing. The teacher we brought in to teach you ASL and how to communicate with the outside world is here, and I wanted to make sure you were up for meeting with her. While you can't put it off forever, if you aren't up for it this week, we could push it off to next week to give you more time to get settled."
One of the things I like about Oakside is that Lexi and her husband are the owners. It’s an old plantation home that has been turned into a rehabilitation center for injured military members. When I got here, the nurse told me that Lexi used to live here on her own before she got the idea to turn it into what it is now. To give up such a beautiful home for all of us, I know she has to be a kind person.
Forgetting for just a moment that I can't speak, I went to again open my mouth to say yes. Instead, I just nod my head. At least Lexi is one of the few people around here that does not give me a look of pity. I really appreciate that more than she will ever know.
"Okay, so her name is Faith. I’ll go get her and bring her up here. I think you two will really get along." She smiles, jumping up from where she's sitting, and leaves.
Taking a deep breath, I make my way over to the couch to sit. I know this woman is trying to help, supposedly like all the doctors and nurses before her. But when you can't talk and you are so lost in your own head, is there really anyone that can pull you out of it?
Lexi had brought Faith in to meet me earlier last week. It was a short meeting, but all I remember is that she was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. She looked like Mandy Moore and was just as stunning. Even though I’m sure Lexi remembers the meeting, I think she was reminding me of her name in case I forgot. Ironically, I don’t have anyone to tell or any way to even say that there's no way I'd forget a single detail about the gorgeous Faith.
As I think about working with her this week, my nerves start to really rack up. Before the accident, I would not have hesitated to ask her out, and I'd have loved flirting with her. But now, I have no game because I have no voice.
When she steps into the room, she pauses in the doorway and smiles. Our eyes lock for just a minute and I know it's completely in my head, but it feels like we have had a ‘moment.’
Trying to shake it off, I focus on her.
"May I come in?" she asks. I still remember to this day her beautiful voice, even though I've only heard her speak a few times well over a week ago.
I nod my head, and if it's even possible, her smile grows. She takes a seat in the chair next to where I'm sitting. The couch and both of the chairs in the sitting area are leather, and I have to admit they are quite comfortable. But after watching her sit down and sink into the chair, it gives me dirty thoughts of other things and ways we could use the chair.
Mentally, I shake my head, trying to focus on the curvy bombshell in front of me. She places a folder on her lap and opens it to look it over. My guess is it’s my medical folder that has followed me from the hospital here. Every doctor or nurse and pretty much anyone that interacts with me here at Oakside has looked at it.
"So today is kind of a get-to-know-you session and figure out your needs so I can make a plan for us going forward. I just want to verify some information in here. While I know you've probably done this a bunch of times since you've been here, but please bear with me, okay?" she asked, giving me an apologetic smile.
When I nod, she continues.
"So it says that you were injured in a plane crash and that you were in and out of it for roughly four months after?" she asks, looking at me.
Again, I just nod.
"Do you remember any of the time in that four months waking up or anything?"
Shaking my head no, because I don’t remember it. What I do remember is the panic of the plane going down and then waking up in a stateside hospital. At some point, even though I was unconscious, I guess I was stable enough to be moved from Germany here, but I don’t remember a single part of it.
"There’s a note in here that the pilot who was with you also survived. He’s here at Oakside as well, having lost his sight. Have the two of you seen... ah... interacted with each other?" She catches herself and a little blush crosses her cheeks.
I can only imagine how weird it is to have to adjust your normal ways of saying things around the men here.
Again, I nod my head. I go in and see Jenkins every few days. Sometimes his wife, Melody, is there, and she will do a bit of translating for us. He'll speak and I'll either nod my head or write on my whiteboard and his wife will read it off.
If his wife wasn't there, then Lexi would have been amazing at coming in and translating for us.
"Have to be honest, I've never worked with someone who has lost their voice the way you have. So, this is a bit of a learning process for us both. So, you will have to bear with me."
Once again I nod, not sure what else I can say. It's not like I have a choice and of course, I want her to keep coming back. If nothing else, she is easy to look at and might be able to understand what I’m going through.
She sets the folder on the coffee table before turning to look at me.
"Do you know any sign language?" she asks. But this time as she speaks, she used her hands.
I'm watching her hands instead of really concentrating on the question.
"As I talk, my hands will use sign language. You’ll get used to it and will start seeing some repetitive signs. It’s kind of like when you move to a new country and you immerse yourself in the language."
I heard many of the guys I served with say the same thing when they were stationed overseas, so I just nod my head.
"Do you know any sign language?" she asks. Again, I shake my head no.
"I know it sucks writing everything down, but as we go, you'll learn more and it'll get a lot easier to communicate," she says.
Then, reaching into the bag next to the chair, she pulls out a spiral-bound brown notebook and a pen and hands them to me. Carefully, I take it from her. Reaching into her bag again, she pulls out one that looks exactly like it, except this one is a dark blue.
"I want you to write down anything and everything. Whatever is on your mind that you want to get out, including any questions or concerns that you have. Think about the things you normally talk to people about, but can't right now. Anything that you want me to know, put it in there. I'll write in mine, and we'll swap them at every visit. Write as much or as little as you want."
I run my hands over the soft leather of the cover. Even when I was deployed, I never really wrote letters. Mostly I'd stuck to emails, not that I had a lot of people to email.
"The more we talk, the more you will pick up different signs, and the easier sign language will become. But you have to remember there are always going to be people in your life that don’t know sign language. There are constantly going to be barriers to communication, but my job is to teach you how to overcome them."
I've had many nights to think about how this is my life now. There will be constant barriers to communication. Either I write long sentences on a whiteboard or in a notebook to hand to people and watch as they get impatient, or I don’t communicate at all.
Even though I don’t know how she thinks she's going to make it any easier, but if it means her coming around more often, I'll try this.
Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Faith
There's just something in Logan’s eyes that draws me to him. Every day since we had our initial meeting last week, I've seen those eyes. I can't escape them no matter how hard I try. Those captivating honey-colored eyes I see every time I close my eyes.
His dark reddish brown hair has grown out longer than a military cut. Since he's been injured, he's got a nice looking beard. Pair it with the tattoos that I can see on his arms, and what girl wouldn't swoon? But I can't let that affect me and the treatment that I give him.
I have to stay professional. Even if under any other circumstances, I'd be trying to flirt with them. Well, that's a lie. I'd probably be a little too shy to flirt with him, but if he showed any interest, then I would.
He doesn't realize it, but his eyes and his face just say so much more if you know how to read him. That's what I learned to do in school, read people to anticipate their needs.
"You feel isolated, Don’t you?" I ask him, signing with my hands.
Once again, he nods, but this time he looks down at his feet.
It's not easy for people to open up, especially to be vulnerable after an accident like his. If they are not able to open up and allow themselves to be vulnerable before the accident, it's even harder after. What all this means is I have a completely uphill battle with him. One that I look forward to fighting.
Finally, I pull out another simple black leather journal from my bag.
"This one is for you to write whatever you want. No one will read this one. Use it to get your frustrations out when you get angry at a situation or just need to express yourself somehow. Many of my clients have found that they write in it, and then burn it, making them feel so much better."
He picks up the whiteboard that's sitting next to him and writes on it before turning it around to face me.
Thank you.
Taking a moment, I show him the sign for thank you and he masters it really fast.
"You’re welcome."
He erases the dry-erase board and sets it on his lap. He seems open to talking, so now might be my time to get more information from him.
"Is there anyone at home that also needs to learn sign language and different ways to be able to communicate with you?" I ask. He just shakes his head.
"Any family or siblings?" I ask and again it’s a no.
"Girlfriend or wife?" I ask. All the while knowing I don’t need to because I'm sure he would have said if there was. But part of me wants to know if there's someone else in his life, even if it's completely unprofessional curiosity.
Again, he shakes his head and the amount of relief I feel lets me know that this is not professional. I need to rein it in, but I still have more to go over with him today.
He picks up the whiteboard and starts writing again. This time, it takes him a bit longer. He glances up at me a few times, but I just offer him a smile. I could be as patient as he needs and I know when you have a lot to say and you have to write it out, some people aren't very patient. When he finally turns the board around, it takes me a minute to read it.
It was just me and my grandparents growing up. But they have since passed away. I have no other family. Only friends I have were in the military.
I nod, but he holds up his finger, and he erases the whiteboard and starts writing again. It's filled a second time and then he flips it around.
My best friend was on the plane with me. He's here at Oakside and has lost his sight. Sign language won't help us.
I've never felt my heart crack so completely.
"I promise you we will find a way for you to communicate. My friend Lauren is here and I believe she's the one working with him. I’ll talk with her. Her fiancé also lost his sight serving in the military. She helped him and he's going to be helping your friend as well. There are plenty of people here who understand what you're going through even if they have never been in your exact situation."
I know that he's probably heard that many times before since he's been here, but it is the truth. I hope he experiences that soon. If nothing else, for sure he would see it with Lexi and Noah. Noah was in the military himself and had massive burns on one side of his body. His face and his arms are the most visible. Now he wears them like a badge of honor. Though I know it took him a long time to get there.
When he looks away, I don’t know what else to say.
"I'm really sorry you're going through all this and don’t have someone by your side to help you. But now you have me." I probably could have worded that better and kept my words more professional.
But when he looks back at me, the tears in his eyes are visible, and I know he needed it. Seeing such a strong man on the verge of crying is almost too much to handle.
Without a second thought, I go against everything that I have been trained to do and not do, getting up to sit beside him on the couch and pull him in for a hug.
At first, he tries to fight me. It’s as if he shouldn't need the support or shouldn't need me, but I just hold him tighter and after a few more seconds he melts into me and holds me back just as tight. His entire body heaves as he sobs silently.
