Crap crap fuck crap.
I pull out my phone.
It’s only halfway through the first period. I won’t be able to talk to Logan for two hours at least. And by then I’ll be into my shift overnight.
I think about how angry he was when he showed up at our house that first night in January, how disappointed that I’d run away instead of talking to him about the problem in front of us.
I didn’t know then that he could be trusted with my fears.
But now I do.
For the second time today, I do a big emotional dump into someone’s text messages. It’s hard, but it’s real, and unlike with my mother, I know that no matter how shocking or hard it is for Logan to read them, he won’t be mad at me for being human.
Frankie
I went to the health clinic
I’m fine (my back is a bit fucked but everything else is fine)
I also asked about birth control and they do a test first before they prescribe that
(There’s no easy way to say this)
I’m pregnant
I’m sorry to drop this and go, but I have a shift that starts before your game ends
I’m thinking about my options and I hope you’re okay with that
I’m sorry if this upsets you
I’ll try to call you tonight on a break
Oh fuck, you’re flying to Boston…let me know when you get to your hotel?
I’m sorry, again, I know it’s already been a crazy day
CHAPTER 49
LOGAN
I stare at the text messages for the hundredth time, my knee bouncing.
In the distance, there’s a droning sound. An overhead announcement that doesn’t apply to me.
Other text messages appear at the top of my phone screen. I ignore them all.
My parents.
My siblings.
My agent.
Everyone waking up to the news that Logan Granger has taken a personal leave of absence from his team.
Ignore, ignore, ignore.
“Now boarding?—”
