“Logan,” I whisper, my throat raw. He stirs faintly, fingers twitching against mine. His lashes lift slowly, revealing the glassy blur of his chocolate eyes.
My tears spill before I can stop them, dripping onto his jersey. “You absolute idiot,” I breathe.
His mouth twitches, a rough voice scraping out. “Lu… you shouldn’t be here.”
“I had to,” I choke out, brushing a bloody smear from his lip with my thumb.
He tries for a smile, but it’s weak. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine!” The words crack out of me. “You’re bleeding, you’re barely holding your eyes open, and—” My voice wobbles. “And all I could think was that I didn’t say I love you before the game.”
He blinks at me, still dazed, and I swallow hard.
“My parents never left for a shift without saying it.” The words shake loose in a half-sob, half-memory. “Ever. It was the rule.”
For a beat, he just stares and I have no idea whether he’s registering any of it. Then his fingers twitch around mine, and his gaze steadies in a way that cuts me open.
“C’mere, baby,” he rasps.
I fold into him, forehead to his shoulder, tears soaking into his jersey. His arm curls around me, clumsy but certain, holding me close.
And then, voice low and rough against my ear, he breathes it back. “Love you too, Lu.”
The horn suddenly blares for end of the period, the sound crashing through the walls. Skates clatter down the tunnel outside, the low rumble of voices rising as the Storm make their way to the locker room.
A voice suddenly cuts through the air.
“Is he—”
Eli barrels through the doorway, sweat still shining on his face, jersey half-torn, hair plastered to his forehead. He stops dead, and the hopeful smile on his face drops.
Because I’m on Logan’s bed. Draped over him, my lips still pressed against his shoulder and the words I’d spilled moments ago still echoing in the air.
Eli’s face changes in an instant, from shock to betrayal to rage.
“Tallulah,” he grits, not my name so much as a curse.
The air punches out of me, and I freeze, caught between Logan’s limp weight and Eli’s fury in the doorway. I twist toward him, caught like a kid sneaking out after curfew, except this isn’t sneaking. This is my heart in my hands and Logan half-passed-out on the table.
Eli takes in everything with a single, blistering glance: me curled up against Logan, my tear-streaked face, Logan’s arm heavy around me, and Zoe hovering uselessly in the corner.
“What the fuck is this?” His gaze snaps from Zoe to me to Logan, sharp enough to cut steel.
Logan stirs, dragging in a breath that sounds like it hurts. His hazy eyes find Eli. “It—” He winces, words slurring together. “It’s a mistake.”
My blood runs cold, and the room stills. His words echo in my head, loud and ugly, and I pull back from him, his hand slipping out of mine.
Eli’s face twists. “Amistake?” His furious voice cuts through. “You think this is a fucking mistake?”
Logan blinks slowly, mouth parting and trying to speak again. “Yeah—”
But Eli’s already moving. He lunges forward, skates scraping on tile, helmet raised like a weapon.
“You piece of shit!”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” The medic’s there in a flash, hand on Eli’s chest. “Not in here!”
Zoe slides in sideways, heels skidding on the floor, throwing her arms out. “Jesus Christ, let’s remember this is themedicalroom, not a Thunderdome.”
