Logan Kade (Fallen Crest #5.5) - Tijan Page 0,108

I grew misty-eyed, giving him a silent ‘thank you.’ He gave me the slightest of nods back, and that was when I knew everything would be fine. I had my friend back and as I stood there now, I couldn’t deny myself what I was seeing.

There was a sparkle in my dad’s eyes and laugh lines around his mouth. Even the bags under his eyes had lessened. My dad was happy.

“So.” Carol drew closer. She looked like she was going to take my hands so I tucked them back. I wasn’t ready for that stuff yet. She bit down on her lip and wavered back on her feet. “Oh. Okay. Uh.” She still smiled at me. “I know you’re one of my students so I wanted to wait till after the semester to let you know.”

Finals had been last week.

She added quickly, “And this is part of the reason I’ve been so absent, too, why I had Jeremy do more than normal for his TA position.” She continued to eye me. “Are you...okay with this?” She had moved a step forward so my father moved behind her, and she reached back, resting her hand on his chest. The whole gesture came so naturally to them, and that was the problem. It was natural. They were natural...my dad really had moved on.

My throat burned, but I looked into my father’s eyes, and I smiled. I really did smile. It wasn’t forced or fake. It was real, and he relaxed seeing it. I nodded. “If you’re happy—”

He said, “I am.”

“—then she’ll be happy.”

“She?” Carol’s eyebrows pinched together, then she got it. Her eyes widened. “Oh.”

Water pooled on the bottom of his eyes, but my dad coughed and blinked a few times. The water went away, but his voice was hoarse when he murmured, “Thank you, Taylor.” His hand rested over Carol’s shoulder, and I noticed how her eyes closed, how she leaned into his touch, how it was the same way when Logan would touch me. His touch gave her strength, and with my dad beaming at me, I was okay.

No. After texting Logan to come and get me, I was more than okay.

Ten minutes later, as he pulled into the driveway, and I got inside, I was so much better than okay. Our lips touched, and I was fucking fantastic.

He pulled back, looked harried, but touched my lip. “How’d it go?”

I told him, but once I was done, I asked, “What happened?”

He grunted, reversing the vehicle back to the road. “My dad’s getting married.”

“What?”

“When you meet her, you’ll understand.” He held my hand and laced our fingers together. “You ready for this?”

No. “Yes.”

“You want me to read it?”

Yes. “No.” I had to.

“Okay.” He squeezed my hand. “But I can, if you can’t.”

“I know.” I squeezed back. “I’ll get through it.”

THE LAST

LOGAN

I stood back.

This was Taylor’s time to speak and she did, raising her head and clearing her throat. She began, “It’s not for the weak or faint of heart.

It will take a toll on you. Your body will hurt. Your soul will ache. Your family life will suffer. No one will understand what you do or why you do it, but you do it. You will work nights. You will work weekends. Holidays. You will bathe the elderly, the weak. You will clean their body, their bodily fluids. You will have to know every medication, what it does, when to stop it, when to give it, and how to get it into people. You will have to know how to interpret blood tests, when the doctor must know. You will have thirty seconds to start an IV, how to hook up an EKG machine. You will need to know how to interpret tracing or when you should give or take away oxygen. You will experience joy, grief, and sorrow in a day, sometimes within the same hour.

You are the glue between the patient, the family, the doctor. It’s you who will keep everyone happy, as comfortable as possible. Code blue. Trauma evaluation. Labor. Delivery. Surgery. Babies. Postpartum. Psychology. These and more will all need to be learned. And when you think you know everything, you don’t.

You’re just starting.

I was asked to write this essay on why I want to be a nurse. I know that I wrote all that will be demanded of me, and the reason for this was because I know what it takes to be a nurse. I know the joy and the sorrow. I know the suffering,

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