Or maybe it was from the other members of DGM? Ed clenched his jaw. rex? Quirky, kinda sentimental, pricey without being ridiculous: that seemed Logan’s speed. He wondered which, if any, of the gifts had come from Logan. It rotated in the breeze of the hospital’s ventilation system, flashing Ed his own reflection every few seconds. And a solitary two-dollar Mylar balloon tethered to the floor with a plastic figurine. rex with its arm in a sling ( kitschy, so it probably cost more), no fewer than three pink teddy bears grasping plastic hearts that said “We miss you” (clearly on sale). The collection had definitely grown since yesterday’s visit, and as Ed took a mental inventory, his brain automatically calculated the net cost of all the crap: a sad-eyed puppy holding a Get Well sign ( $14.99), a T. Massive bouquets covered the floor near the window, a zoo of stuffed animals piled up around them. The room smelled of freshly cut flowers mixed with cleaning astringent, the same scent that seemed to permeate every hospital he’d ever visited. He took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly through parted lips. He could have led the entire Bishop DuMaine marching band in a figure eight through her room and wouldn’t have gotten so much as a twitch in response.

It wasn’t like she was actually sleeping. He placed a metal chair next to Margot’s bed, careful not to make any noise. Tall and blond? No, that wasn’t his type at all. Hell, if Ed were into dudes, Logan would probably be the kind he’d swoon over too-tall, athletic, blond, charming.Įd’s hand drifted to the pocket of his jacket, his fingers brushing the rumpled piece of paper he kept with him at all times. It wasn’t Logan’s fault Margot had fallen for him. He’d only seen it a few times: once in the assembly when DGM humiliated Coach Creed in front of the entire school, once in the computer lab when she and Bree brought him into the DGM fold, and once in the hallway at Bishop DuMaine when she was talking to Logan Blaine.Įd’s chest tightened. He closed his eyes and pictured her smile. Just a heart rate monitor, its slow and steady blips a constant reminder of Margot’s comatose state. Other than the IV tube taped in place on her left arm, she wasn’t hooked up to any machines that artificially enhanced her vital functions. Ed stood in the doorway of the fifth-floor hospital room and stared at Margot.

Get Dirty by Gretchen McNeil