Chapter 9 - The Fever
Rain returned to Seattle with a vengeance in late November, turning the city streetlights into blurry red dots through the fog.
It was 11:00 PM on a Thursday when Logan’s phone rang. He picked it up on the first ring.
"Claire? Is everything okay?"
"Logan..." Claire’s voice sounded panicked, frayed by exhaustion. "It's Sam. He has a high fever—103.8. I tried giving him medicine, but he threw it up. He's lethargic, and the pediatric clinic line is busy."
"I'm coming," Logan said instantly, grabbing his coat and car keys. "Don't call an ambulance yet; I'll be there in seven minutes."
Driving through red lights in the pouring rain, Logan arrived at the West Seattle apartment in six minutes flat. He took the stairs three at a time and knocked twice before Claire opened the door.
She looked exhausted, her face pale, her hair messy. In her arms, wrapped in a blanket, was Sam. His small face was flushed red, his skin hot to the touch, his eyes half-open and glassy.
"He started shivering an hour ago," Claire said, her voice shaking. "Leo is asleep in the other room, but Sam... his temperature won't drop."
Logan stepped forward and placed his large hand gently against Sam's forehead. The heat coming off the boy was alarming.
"We're going to Children's Hospital," Logan said firmly. "I'll carry him. Claire, grab his coat and shoes."
Logan carefully took Sam into his arms. The four-year-old pressed his hot cheek against Logan’s neck, letting out a small, weak whimper.
"Daddy..." Sam whispered faintly.
"I've got you, buddy," Logan whispered back, wrapping his heavy wool coat around the boy to shield him from the cold air outside. "Daddy's got you."
They rushed down the stairs to Logan’s car. Claire climbed into the back seat, holding Sam close, while Logan drove through the stormy night to Seattle Children's Hospital.
For the next four hours, Logan stood by the pediatric ER bed, holding Sam's tiny hand while nurses administered IV fluids and fever reducers. Claire sat in a chair beside the bed, holding Sam's other hand, her eyes heavy with exhaustion.
By 3:30 AM, the doctor walked into the cubicle with a warm smile. "The fever has broken. It was a severe ear infection that hit quickly, but the antibiotics are working. He can go home in the morning."
Claire let out a long, shuddering breath, her head dropping onto the edge of the hospital mattress as tears of relief washed over her face.
Logan walked over to her side. He gently placed his hand on her shoulder.
Claire didn't push him away. She turned her head, resting her forehead against his wrist, letting out five years of pent-up exhaustion and fear.
"You came," Claire whispered, her voice choked with tears. "I called, and you came."
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"I will always come, Claire," Logan said softly, his thumb gently stroking her shoulder. "Whenever you or the boys need me, no matter where I am, I will always come."
Claire looked up at him through her tears. The old wall that had stood between them for five long years—built of pride, hurt, and lies—finally collapsed into dust in the quiet hospital room.
