So I think I need a beta reader, so if anyone is willing to be mine, can you PM me please? I'm begging...

ChelziSchmidtXD and I are working on writing a fic together. It may be posted soon. Keep your eye out for it. The title is probably going to be 'Because Of You' and it will be posted on my profile.

ENJOY!

(Kendall POV)

I was standing at the bus stop, furious with myself for being an idiot back at Logan's place. Stupid, stupid, stupid, I thought. I had definitely wanted to kiss Logan, but I couldn't. My brain said it was weird and wrong, but my gut and my heart and all the other parts of my body said that kissing Logan was so right and perfect.

I was so confused.

I heard someone coming up to the bus stop. I turned slowly, still slightly lost in thought, and saw none other than Logan. I thought he was coming back so he could talk to me and sort things out, but then I saw the look on his face. He seemed frantic and scared out of his mind. Is that because of me? I thought.

When he made it to my spot, I tried to talk to him without stuttering like a moron. "Um, Logan," I began, not sure what to say. "Look, I'm sorry about what happened at your house and I should have just stayed so we could talk about…" I paused as I realized he wasn't listening to me. Logan was looking over my shoulder, for the bus I assume, and he kept opening his cell phone and looking down at it like it would give him all the answers to the universe. "Logan," I said, snapping my fingers in front of his face. He turned to me but said nothing, just continued to look scared. "What? Are you just not gonna talk to me anymore?" I asked.

Finally, he spoke to me, "Sorry, Kendall but there's an emergency and really need to get to the hosp-"

"What happened?" I asked, cutting him off.

He carefully and quickly explained how, just after I ran out of there, he got a call from the hospital saying there was an emergency and his father was hurt in some way. He had hung up before the receptionist got to tell him what happened.

I felt so bad for him. His best friend kisses him then runs away, and then his dad has to go to the hospital. Somehow, I felt like all of this was my fault. Don't ask me why, because I don't know, but I just got a feeling in the pit of my stomach that if I had just kissed him and stayed, then none of this would've happened.

"I'll come with you," I said as the bus pulled up and people started crowding into it.

For a second, I thought he would say no, but he just nodded and headed toward the bus. We climbed on together and took a seat near the back. Logan had his eyes closed and was breathing slowly. I could tell he was worried sick, literally. He was pale and clammy. But, I'm pretty sure anyone would if they had a day like his.

About ten minutes later we were still a few miles away from the hospital and Logan was getting antsy. "Can this bus get any slower?" he muttered.

I looked forward to the bus driver then got up, leaving Logan to look at me questioningly. At the next stop, I tapped the bus driver's shoulder and he turned around in his seat. "Excuse me," I said politely. "Do you think you could go any faster?"

He scoffed. "Listen, kid," he said gruffly. "I know you're probably late to one of your stupid teenage parties and whatnot, but this old hunk of junk won't go any faster."

That kind of pissed me off. Not all teenagers were stupid party animals … only most of them were.

"No, you listen," I said angrily. "My best friend's dad is in the hospital and we don't know why. That's a bit of situation, y'know? So, unless you can find me some other way to get to PalmWoods General Hospital in the next fifteen minutes, I'm going to keep bugging you about it!"

He looked mildly angry, but also a little… impressed? He nodded slowly. "I like you, kid," he said. "You're tryin' to help out your friend and I understand where you're coming from. I'll try and speed it up a bit."

"Thank you," I said breathlessly. Then I turned and walked back to Logan who still looked confused and scared. The bus started to move again, and it was going faster.

He raised an eyebrow. "What was that about?" he asked.

I just shrugged. "Nothing. Just told the bus driver to speed up a little."

Both his eyebrows went up now. "Really?"

"Yeah."

He looked at me and his eyes softened. "Thanks," he said.

"No problem."

We both fell into a strained silence. I could tell he was going through all of the different scenarios as to how his dad got into the hospital. His face was a little twisted up and he looked just about ready to cry. I looked at him for a few more seconds. He didn't notice; he was staring out the window. I silently reached out and took his hand in mine. I wanted some way to tell him that everything would be fine and I would always be there for him, but I wasn't sure how to put that into words. To me, the easiest way to tell him that he wasn't alone was to take his hand and never let go until we were in the hospital.

He didn't look at me or say anything, but he squeezed my hand and I knew he understood what I was trying to say, and that he was thanking me for doing so.

At the next stop, I realized that the bus driver was making people get on quicker. He was ushering people around and herding them into random seats, sometimes complaining that they were going too slow. I smiled a little. It was kind of entertaining.

Eventually, and faster than I thought it would take, Logan and I were at the receptionist's desk at the hospital.

"Hello," she said. Her voice was nasally and she sounded snotty. "How may I help you?" she asked in a way that sound more like 'What the hell do you want?'

"I'm Logan Mitchell," Logan said. "I got a call about a half hour ago saying that my father was here."

She looked bored and was chewing her gum like one of those hairdressers, snapping it incessantly. Her name tag read 'Hello! My name is Leah.' Even her name sounded snotty. "What's your father's last name?"

Logan sighed and said quite impatiently, "MITCHELL."

"Well," she said clicking her pen over, and over, and over again. Logan felt to grab it from her grasp and chuck it across the room. "If you're gonna be a little asshole then I'm not letting you see anybody."

Logan slammed his hands down on her desk, making her nearly jump out of her skin and causing a few people to look our way. "Listen, bitch," he said, fuming. "If you don't let me see my dad, who may or may not be on the brink of death, then I will take that damn pen and stab you with it repeatedly until you either bleed out and die, or beg to die. You understand me?"

Leah nodded. "He's in room 305. Just go down the hall, up three sets of stairs, and then it's the seventh door on the left; you can't miss it," she said quickly.

Logan smirked. "I would say thank you," he began. "But I shouldn't have to thank you for doing your damn job."

She nodded, looking pale. Her pen was lying on her desk now.

Logan and I walked away. I was a little surprised at Logan for snapping at the receptionist like that. He never got that angry… not around me at least. But then I realized that this was his dad we were talking about and he had a damn right to be angry at the bitchy girl who wouldn't let him see his dad.

Logan took the stairs two at a time surprisingly, he did have long legs, being all tall and stuff but he was a pretty lazy boy nonetheless. I was actually slightly struggling to keep up. Maybe it was all the hockey we played.

We reached room 409 and Logan didn't bother knocking or anything, he just pushed the door open.

I came up behind him and saw someone lying in a white bed. That person had cuts and blood and bandages all over him. It was definitely Logan's dad, but not the same person I remembered from just a few hours ago.

Logan walked over to him and sat down on one of the two chairs sitting next to the bed. I took the one next to him. He sighed and looked down at his dad with I look that made my heart clench. He was obviously trying to keep himself together.

Suddenly, there was a series of loud, fast beeping noises and a bunch of nurses came running in. They hardly took any notice of Logan or me. One did, however. He looked at us and said, "Guys, you can't be in here right now."

One of the nurses turned around and looked at Logan. I recognised her as Lucy, who lived a few houses down from Logan's apartment. I didn't realize she was a nurse in this hospital.

"Mark," she said, scolding. "That's his son, just let him stay, alright?"

The man she called Mark muttered, "Fine, whatever. But if he gets in the way, he's out of here."

The doctors carefully turned Logan's dad onto his back. And right there, in the center of his back, probably on his spine, was a huge, bleeding gash. I heard Logan inhale sharply. He turned around and practically ran out of the room. I followed him.

I found him sitting against the wall near the door with his knees pulled up to his chest. He looked pale and sick and naseous. I sat next to him and he sighed. Not sure what to say to make him feel better, or if I could make him feel better at all, I put my arm around him and he put his head on my shoulder, breathing deeply. I noticed that he was choked up, but wasn't crying yet. That took real strength. To see your father, lying face down, with a huge gash in his back and still manage to hold in your tears was incredible to me. I knew Logan was hurting, but I think he was trying to be strong for his father's sake. I know Logan well enough to realize that he thinks that if he doesn't cry or complain about it, then whatever it was he was upset about would go away.

That's not always true.

About ten minutes later, Lucy came in and said she wanted to talk to us in Logan's dad's room. We all walked in together and Logan and I sat down in the same seats we had sat in the first time we were in the room. All of the other nurses and doctors had left.

Lucy sighed and looked like she had to tell us something, but really didn't want to.

"Logan," she said kindly. "Your dad was in an accident on his way home from work."

I tuned out then, looking cautiously at Logan. His eyes got filled with more and more tears as Lucy continued to speak. I got small parts of what she was saying, "Spinal injury," "critical condition," "may not make it." Then she said she would leave Logan and his dad alone for a while.

She left and I got up to follow her, but Logan caught my arm and pulled me back down to my seat. "Please stay," he said with a cracking voice.

I sat quietly and watched Lucy close the door behind her.

Almost as soon as the door clicked into place, Logan crumbled. He put his face in his hands and sobbed these heart wrenching sobs that made me shed a few tears. I quickly swept them away. I didn't want Logan to see me cry, too. That would just make it worse for him.

"I can't lose another parent," he said. His voice was nothing more than a raspy whisper. I felt my heart clench again.

"Logan," I said gently, rubbing his back. "You know how strong your dad is. He's stronger than anyone I know." Besides you, I thought. "He's a fighter. He'll pull through."

Logan looked at me, his flawless skin now stained with tears. "You said the same thing when my mom was in the hospital," he said, still crying. "And now she's gone."

As awful as it may sound, I didn't truly think his dad would make it. Spinal injuries were really serious… and really fatal. I didn't have the heart to tell him what I really thought, and I didn't know any other way to reassure him, so I brought him closer to me and hugged him. I held him tight to me and didn't let go.

I didn't know what else to do, so I just sat there hugging him and letting him cry until he eventually calmed down. I think that was all I could do at that moment.

Just be there and hold him.

This is probably the longest chapter I've written for this story. I'm so proud of myself.

Please Review!

Best Regards,

Lacey