Chapter 37
Chapter thirty-seven
A lifeline. A knife. Both at once.
Logan
My skull feels like it’s been split with an axe.
The trainers called it “a mild concussion,” but there’s nothing mild about the way light stabs behind my eyes or how every sound feels like a goddamn cymbal crash.
I’ve been ordered to rest. No screens, no gym, no anything, which basically translates to: sit here and stew in my own head while ice packs sweat down my temple.
Chase was here overnight, per team protocol. He crashed in the guest room, snored like a bear, and made me promise not to move unless I had to pee. Sometime around dawn he ducked out to grab coffee and check on Zoe, muttering that he’d be back before noon.
Now it’s just me and Dusty.
The dog sprawls across the foot of the bed, chin on his paws, watching me like he knows I’m broken. Every so often, he whines, a low, restless sound, and I scratch behind his ears just to keep him calm. Or maybe to keep myself calm.
Last night is a blur. I remember the hit, the noise, the med room lights.
Eli shouting. Lulu crying. My own voice, hoarse and unsteady.
Some words I said echoing in the middle, but I can’t piece together what the hell I was saying.
Everything after that is flashes: pain, the smell of antiseptic, Chase driving me home.
Now all I know for sure is that Eli knows, and Lulu isn’t here.
My phone buzzes again on the nightstand. I’ve already scrolled through half a dozen check-ins from the guys, all circling the same message: You good? Need anything?
Eli, of course, is silent.
The rest of the nightstand looks like a battlefield—half-crushed Gatorade bottles, a rattling painkiller bottle, and the stack of birthday playing cards from Lulu. I reread every single one this morning, right after listening to the voicemail I should’ve deleted.
My dad's voice still echoes in my head: “You looked like a goddamn rookie out there. Losing your temper, throwing punches like some undisciplined goon—what the hell were you thinking? If you’re trying to prove you're not captain material, you’re doing a damn good job. Call me when you grow the fuck up."
I nearly threw the phone through the wall.
Instead, I sat there in the early light, every part of me throbbing—from the hit, from the shame—and read every card Lulu gave me. One by one. Her words, her ink, her softness. The only proof I’m not the failure he’s always believed I’d turn out to be.
Now they’re stacked neatly beside me, her handwriting a quiet calm against the glare of my screen holding the only text she's sent me.
Lu: Showcase tonight. Need to keep my head on straight. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?
A lifeline. A knife. Both at once.
Proof she hasn’t disappeared completely, proof she still wants to talk. But also the longest twenty-four hours of my goddamn life. My thumb hovers over the keyboard, aching to send something back.
I love you. I’m sorry Eli found out like this. Please don’t shut me out.
But I don’t, because what she needs right now isn’t me crowding her messages, not when her brother’s furious and the showcase is staring her down. If she’s asking for space, then space is what I’ll give her.
And if there’s one thing Lulu Parnell deserves, it’s me respecting her wishes.
The doorbell jolts me before I can spiral deeper. Dusty barks once and bounds off the bed. I ger down the hall in my gray sweats, head pounding, and swing the front door open.
“Special delivery!”
Betty breezes in, balancing two foil-covered trays like she’s about to cater a wedding, and kicks the door shut behind her. She drops them onto the counter with a clatter.
“Gluten-free on the left,” she announces, peeling back the foil. “Normal people food on the right. Choose wisely, or risk spending the day on the toilet.”
“Morning, Betty,” I mutter, squinting against the light.
She gives me a once-over, hands on her hips. “You look like a corpse. A handsome corpse, especially in those sweatpants—but still. Sit down before you fall down.”
I do as I’m told, mostly because the floor tilts. She plunks a cookie onto a napkin and shoves it into my hand.
Between chews of her own, she squints at me. “She’s fine, you know. Your sunshine girl. Just running on fumes and glitter and that sheer determination of hers.” She waggles a hand. “I’m sure she’ll circle back once the curtain falls.”
The words hit like a balm and a bruise all at once. My girl. Glitter and determination. I cling to every crumb Betty offers.
“Betty—” My throat burns, and I have to swallow hard before I can manage the rest. “She’s really okay?”
Betty rolls her eyes, swatting at the air. “She’s Lulu. She’s focused. Overwhelmed, but focused. I’m sure she’ll come talk once the dust settles.”
I sit there, cookie half-eaten, savoring her words like they’re the only thing holding me upright. My eyes catch on Chase’s jacket still hanging over the chair, proof he’s coming back. Proof I’m not totally alone.
Betty doesn’t stay long, thank god. She fusses over Dusty, rearranges my throw pillows, and threatens to install herself as my personal nurse before finally swanning out again.
“Try not to die, Hockey Boy!”
The house feels too quiet once she’s gone. Just me, Dusty, and the weight of one text message burning a hole in my pocket.
I’m still pacing the living room, trying not to cave and call Lulu, when a car pulls up in my drive. A horn honks, and I realize it must be Chase returning.
I grab my hoodie, ignoring the way my head protests when I bend to pull it on. Dusty whines as I reach for the door.
“I’ll be back, buddy,” I murmur, rubbing between his ears.
Chase is idling, arm draped out the window of his SUV, when I slowly walk down my steps. He takes one look at me as I slide into the passenger seat and snorts.
“You still look like shit, Miller.”
“Feel like it too,” I mutter, slamming the door.
“Perfect. You’ll fit right in at the hospital.” He pulls away from the curb, his usual cocky grin dimmed but still there, stretched thin around the edges.
The drive’s short, but the silence isn’t easy. I can feel him itching to say something, his fingers drumming the steering wheel. Finally, he glances over.
“Eli’s gonna be there.”
I take a deep breath. “Yeah.”
“You ready for that?”
“No.” I rub at the tender spot on my temple. “But it’s not about me. It’s about Hutch.”
Chase doesn’t argue, just turns the music up a notch, some lazy country station filling the space between us.
By the time we pull into the hospital lot, my chest is tight enough to crack. I know what’s waiting inside—scan updates, worried faces, Eli’s fury simmering like a storm cloud.
Chase slaps the wheel once before killing the engine. “Let’s go see our guy.”
Inside, the waiting room’s a cluster of Storm merch and grim expressions. Charlie’s in the corner, holding Jake’s hand. Tamara’s perched beside Eli, murmuring low, calming words he doesn’t look like he’s hearing. Zoe paces, phone in hand, hair falling out of her bun like she’s been clawing at it.
And Eli—fuck. He doesn’t even look at me when Chase and I step in. Just sets his jaw, eyes locked on the floor, fists flexing like he’s holding himself together by threads.
I swallow hard. I came here for Reid, but one wrong word, one wrong look, and this waiting room might turn into a warzone.
Zoe’s the first to break the silence. “Soon as we get word he’s out of the scan, I’m gonna head over to Lulu’s school. Big night for her.” She taps her phone like she’s already running late.
Charlie nods. “We’re all going, too. Noah and Meadow have been buzzing about it for weeks.”
“Damn right,” Tamara adds, her hand firm on Eli’s knee. “As soon as Hutch has the all clear, we’ll head over. No way she’s facing that crowd without us in the seats.”
They’re all talking about her, about showing up for the showcase tonight. Promising to be in the seats, cheering her on, ready to hold the line against every PTA villain.
And I sit there, concussed and useless, biting my tongue. Because Lulu’s already asked me to give her space, to let her focus. It doesn’t matter that every part of me aches to be there, to see her shine.
The waiting room falls silent when a woman in scrubs slips in. Her hair is cropped in a sleek bob; cheekbones sharp, expression serious.
“Family of Reid Hutchison?”
We all rise as Zoe nods.
She steps forward and flips her tablet open. “I’m Dr. Park, resident orthopedic. The scans just wrapped, and there’s a probable meniscus tear. I can’t confirm location or severity yet—I need imaging reviewed by senior staff.”
Jake clears his throat. “So… is surgery possible?”
She meets his eyes. “Yes, it’s a possibility. But we’re not there yet. Right now, the priority is interpreting all the images accurately before we make decisions.”
A shaky exhale moves through the group. Charlie presses her face into Jake’s chest. Tamara squeezes Eli’s hand, and Chase mutters “fuck” into Zoe’s hair.
Reid’s one of the best guys, both on and off the ice. Hearing he’s sustained an injury that probably requires surgery isn’t good for a pro athlete, especially not one pushing forty.
Eli’s voice is low. “When will we know more?”
She glances at her tablet. “Within a few hours. The radiologist’s full report will guide next steps.”
Dr. Park gives a few more details that none of us really absorb, then leaves us to the silence. It doesn’t last long. Zoe’s on the phone again, Chase’s leg is bouncing restlessly, and Charlie and Tamara are trying to soothe each other.
Eli still hasn’t looked at me, not once. His shoulders are coiled tight, knuckles white against the chair arms. It’s like I don’t exist, like he’s holding himself back from tearing me apart in front of everyone.
I can’t take it, so I shove a hand through my hair and nod toward the doors. “I’ll be outside.”
Chase shoots me a look, but I can’t sit here under Eli’s silence any longer.
The afternoon air is cold when I push through the doors, and when I get to the parking lot, I brace a hand on Chase’s truck. My head tips back and I try to breathe through the pounding in my skull.
The footsteps behind me aren’t a surprise. The hand fisting in my hoodie and slamming me back against the door, less so.
“Eli, I’m sorry—”
“Shut the fuck up.” His face is inches from mine, a sheen on his forehead, eyes blazing with fury. “You think you can apologize? You think that fixes it?”
I grit my teeth, pain igniting down my neck from the impact. “I am sorry.”
“Exactly.” His voice is sharp enough to cut glass.
He shoves harder, breath hot in my face.
“That’s the fucking problem, Miller. You’re apologizing like loving her is some dirty little secret.
You don’t apologize for loving her. You don’t tuck her away in the shadows and call it a mistake.
You claim her. You fight for her—or you get the fuck out of the way entirely. ”
“I should’ve told you sooner. I should’ve—”
“Yeah, if you’d been straight with me from the start, this could’ve been different.
You think I’m blind? You think I haven’t seen the way you look at her?
The way you walk her to her car, give her your hoodie and fight whoever chirps about her on the ice?
I’m not stupid, Miller. I’ve seen the things you do for her.
” His voice fractures, sharp with betrayal.
“And then you apologized, called her a mistake like she was some fucking regret.”
I shake my head hard, the world tilting. “No, no, no. God, no. I regret every second I didn’t say something sooner, every second. But never her. She’s—”
Eli doesn’t let me finish. He shoves me again, hard enough that my shoulder blades scream against the cold metal. His voice drops, carrying years of weight.
“She’s my baby sister, Miller. You think I don’t know what she is?
I’ve been watching out for her since we were kids, when Mom was pulling nights and Dad was on doubles at the station.
Every time she got left at the rink with me, every time the guys in the locker room started running their mouths, I was the one standing between her and them.
“I’ve fought off every asshole who wanted a pretty little trophy on their arm, every guy who thought she was easy because she’s beautiful. She’s pure fucking sunlight, and you think I’m gonna sit here and watch you call her a fucking mistake?”
The words hit like body blows, each one sinking lower and deeper, because he’s right. I suddenly realize exactly how it must have sounded last night when I rasped those words out in front of him and Lulu.
It was a mistake.
My stomach lurches, and my ribs feel like they’re caving. “She thinks I was calling what we have a mistake? Calling her a mistake?” I can barely say the words without them tasting like poison.
Eli’s grip tightens, his knuckles pressing into my chest. “Didn’t you?”
“No!” My voice cracks, desperate. “No, I meant it was a mistake not telling you sooner. I never meant her. Never.”
His jaw flexes as his eyes search mine, peeling me open.
He’s not just raging, he’s carrying the history of every time he played parent, every time he shielded her from the world.
And last night, I became the very thing he’s always sworn to protect her from.
My chest heaves, praying he can see the truth, see how gone I am for her.
“Christ, Eli,” I rasp again. “I never—”
“Do you love her?” Eli’s eyes burn into mine.
The world tilts again, heavy and absolute. There’s no space for hesitation, not with the way he’s staring me down.
“Yes.” The word rips out of me. “Yes, I’m so fucking in love with her.”
For a beat, Eli just studies me, chest heaving. Then he finally lets go of my hoodie, shoving me back against the truck one last time.
“Then start acting like it.”
He stalks off, leaving me braced against the cold metal, his demand echoing in my head—a warning or an unhinged blessing, I’m not entirely sure.
But either way, I know he’s right. If I don’t fix this, if I don’t prove to her that I never considered her a mistake, I’ll lose her.