Chapter 35
Chapter thirty-five
This is the medical room, not a Thunderdome
Lulu
Logan goes down, and the world rips out from under me.
The crack of his head on the ice is still echoing when the scream tears out of my throat, so loud and raw, before I can even think to stop it.
Charlie jolts beside me, clutching Theo tighter as he starts to wail, confused and frightened.
“Oh my god,” Charlie breathes, white-faced, trying to shield Theo’s eyes.
“Holy cuntballs!” Zoe cusses so loudly, the people in front of us whip their heads around.
On the ice, Logan’s sprawled out and motionless. His helmet’s skidded halfway across the rink, blood streaking bright across his cheek and jaw. Medics are already vaulting the boards, sliding and scrambling across to him.
I can’t breathe. “I have to get down to him.”
Tamara’s hand clamps around my arm. “Lulu, why are you—” She cuts herself off, eyes darting between me and the ice. “Why do you want to get down there so bad?”
“I just—” My voice cracks, breaking in two. “I just have to.”
Charlie’s torn between covering Theo’s ears and watching in horror, while Zoe’s narrowed eyes cut to me, reading me in a way no one else understands right now.
“Shit,” Zoe mutters, low enough that only Tamara and I can hear.
Tamara’s still wide-eyed and clutching my arm, trying to make sense of my panic. But I’m already fighting her grip, tugging my arm free as my heart hammers out of control. Every part of me is screaming to move, to bolt down the stairs, to get to him laying motionless on the ice.
The medics reach him fast, and my nails bite into my palms as I watch one kneel by Logan’s head, while another waves for the boards to open. Logan doesn’t move. The entire arena’s breath is held, all eyes trained on him.
Then—thank god—he stirs. But barely. Blood on his lips, eyes glassy as they haul him upright with a medic under each arm. He’s not skating so much as stumbling, dragged inch by inch toward the tunnel. The crowd roars anyway, on their feet again, thundering his name.
“MILL-ER, MILL-ER, MILL-ER!”
I start sobbing, and can’t stop. My hands are over my mouth, and my body shakes so hard it feels as though my bones might rattle loose.
“I need to get down there.” My voice breaks as I repeat it, trembling but resolute. I turn wildly on Zoe. “You can get me down there. You’ve got the pass—take me.”
Her eyes flare. “Lulu, you can’t—”
“I don’t care!” The words rip out of me louder than I mean them to. “I swear to god, Zoe, if you won’t—”
“Lulu!” Tamara’s voice cuts in, tight and disbelieving. She opens her mouth but then falters, glancing at Zoe, then back at me. “Oh my god. You’re actually… You’re sleeping with him, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m not just—” My chest heaves, panic clawing at my throat. “I love him!” The confession spills out before I can stop it. “I fucking love him, okay?”
Charlie’s jaw drops, and Tamara’s lips part in shock, the color draining from her face. For a beat, the world goes quiet, as if the noise of the arena has been swallowed by my panicked confession.
Zoe exhales a long, low whistle, shaking her head. “Well, shit. Guess subtlety just died a violent death. You may as well rent a plane and skywrite it at this point.”
“I don’t care who knows!”
Tamara stares at me, unable to process what she’s hearing. “You… You’re serious.”
I nod and twist toward Zoe, frantically clutching her shoulders. “Please, Zoe. Please. You have a pass. You’re the only one who can.”
Zoe groans, scrubbing a hand over her face. “Unbelievable. Absolutely un-fucking-believable.” She glances down at her shoes, then back at me with a sigh. “Fine. Fine. You’re insane though, you know that, right?
“I know,” I breathe.
She jerks her chin toward the stairs. “Then let’s go before you actually jump the boards and make SportsCenter.”
She shoves me toward the stairs, cussing as she goes. Tamara and Charlie stare after us, stunned, but I don’t care. I’m already moving, half-dragged, half-running, every nerve in my body locked on one thing.
Logan.
When we get to the tunnel it’s chaos, staff hustling everywhere, skates clattering as scratched players are herded off for intermission. Zoe’s pass gets us waved through, though the security guy shoots me a look.
The medic room is just off the entry, door hanging open, and my heart seizes when I see him.
Logan’s slumped on a stretcher bed, his jersey half peeled up, shoulder pads hanging awkwardly.
Blood streaks along his jaw, his eye already swelling.
He looks both too big for the narrow cot and frighteningly small all at once, with his head tipped back and lashes fluttering.
He’s clinging to consciousness by a thread.
The medic moves toward us. “Christ, Zoe, what are you—”
“She’s his wife,” Zoe says flatly, cutting him off with a shrug, as if that declaration trumps everything.
My head snaps toward her. “What—”
Zoe’s elbow digs into my ribs. “Go. You've got about two minutes before someone calls bullshit.”
The medic groans but waves me through. “Fine. Just stay out of my way.”
I don’t even nod. I’m already moving, sinking onto the edge of the bed, gathering Logan’s hand in both of mine.
It’s warm and heavy and not nearly as strong as it should be.
“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. “A mistake?” 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 the medical room, not a Thunderdome.”
Eli’s chest heaves, glare darting over Zoe’s shoulder. “You hear that, Lu? A mistake. That’s what you are to him.”
“No.” My voice cracks. “That’s not—”
“Lulu…” Logan’s eyes flutter, glassy and confused, his hand twitching toward me.
He barely gets my name out before the medic leans over him, voice sharp. “You need to stop talking, Miller. You’re concussed.”
Logan’s head lolls back, trying to focus, and the next words tumble out thick and broken. “Shouldn’t’ve let it get this far,” he mumbles, the sentence slurred and indistinct.
It sounds like guilt. Like regret.
The medic’s too busy adjusting his neck brace to react, but Eli hears it. Zoe, too. And every syllable is a knife straight through me.
Eli jerks forward a half-step before Zoe’s arm shoots out again, stopping him cold. A bitter laugh breaks out of him. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he mutters, the words shaking with barely contained fury.
“You need to walk it off, Parnell,” Zoe says sharply, still blocking him from Logan. “He’s out of it, he’s bleeding, and I’m pretty sure you’ve still got a third period to play. Can’t exactly beat the crap out of your teammate if you’re supposed to be defending the blue line, right?”
The medic snorts despite himself, and even Eli falters, teeth grinding as he drags his glare back to me, then to Logan.
“Yeah, well, he’s said enough anyway.” His eyes land on me, dark and shaming. “Unbelievable,” he spits, before turning on his heel and clattering back down the tunnel.
“Okay!” Zoe barks, turning so sharply toward us she nearly takes out a tray of gauze. “Three cheers for successfully stopping Elijah Parnell from committing murder in a medical facility.”
It’s supposed to be funny, but it’s not. I can’t feel the humor right now, because my eyes are stuck on Logan’s hazy ones.
“It… was a mistake?”
He groans, eyes unfocused as he tries to turn toward me. “Never should’ve happened,” he mumbles, voice rough and slurred. “Should’ve…”
His words slur, trailing into nonsense as his head tips back. He tries again, but it’s broken, lost in the noise of the medic barking orders and Zoe trying to get me to move.
But I’ve already heard enough. He thinks we never should’ve happened.
I take another step back, my chest aching and the walls closing in. All I can hear are those words over and over.
A mistake.
I don’t wait to be escorted, I turn to the door and stride out. Zoe swears and scrambles after me, catching up in the tunnel.
“Lulu, wait!”
“Don’t.” My voice rips raw out of me, tears stinging so hot I can’t see straight.
She grabs my elbow anyway, tugging me around to face her. “He’s concussed out of his damn mind—”
“He still said it, Zoe.” My throat burns, the words shredding me. “He called us a mistake.”
Zoe shakes her head hard, eyes sharp even through the chaos. “I don’t think—”
“What the hell are you two doing in here?!”
The voice cracks down the tunnel like a whip.
I jolt, dragging my sleeve across my face as the Storm’s head of PR, John Raines, barrels toward us, suit jacket straining, expression thunderous. His gaze slices over Zoe, then lands on me, trembling and blotchy-faced.
“You can’t be here,” he snaps, lowering his voice. “This is restricted access. Out. Now.”
Zoe mutters a string of curses under her breath, her hand firm on my elbow again. “Come on, Parnell,” she says, hauling me forward before I can argue, before I can breathe, before I can hear anything except the words still lodged in my chest.
A mistake.