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As my feet carry me towards the campus gym, much quicker than they ever have before, my eyes begin to sting as I think about the grief that Logan is going through right now. I take a deep breath as I hold onto the gym door, trying to compose myself and be strong for my girl before I walk in.
When I step inside, I realize the gym is completely empty, most likely because winter break has officially begun, but I spot my angry girl wildly throwing punches at a bag as her red ponytail flails around her.
In the times I’ve watched Logan box before, the first thing I notice is how composed and in control of her movements she is. Today, she’s not. It’s as if she’s trying to get all her thoughts and feelings out of her body and into the bag as quickly as possible.
I can see how weak she is from here, and that’s never been a word I’ve used to describe Logan before.
“Logan!” I yell, trying to get her attention. Trying to distract her from the anger spewing from her fist, but she ignores me. Or she doesn’t hear me. I’m not sure.
“Logan Josephine Leo!” I bound towards her angry body, but again she doesn’t respond to me.
I cautiously wrap my arm around her waist from behind as I avoid her gloved up fist. “Baby,” I softly say, now that I have her in my grasp.
Logan throws a few more halfhearted punches before falling forward, leaning her forehead and fists on the bag as her anger breaks into a grief-stricken sob.
Her body heaves in my arms as her cries fill the empty gym, the place she’s always been able to find relief. But today, there’s no relief for her as she collapses in my embrace.
I sink to the ground, taking her with me as she continues to cry uncontrollably. I turn her body into mine as she hides her tear-soaked face in my chest. I wrap her up as tightly as I can, knowing that this helps me when she does it, and not sure what else to do as I try to mask the pain I feel for her. She’s never once needed me the way I do her, but she does right now, and I have to step up and be strong for her.
I sit here with her for quite some time, not saying a word but letting her feel it all as I gently run my hand over the length of her back. When Logan’s cries quiet a bit, I take off my jacket and drape it around her before wrapping her legs around my waist and standing with her in my grasp. She tightens her arms around my neck and buries her face in my shoulder as I carry her against my body back to her dorm.
When I make it to her hall, I spot Marc and Ali standing outside Ali’s doorway, faces plastered with concern when they see the broken girl in my arms.
Marc has never seemed more worried in his life, but I give him a look, trying to tell him that I know what’s going on without saying the words.
Closing Logan’s dorm room door behind us, I sink to the ground with her straddling my lap and my back leaning against the door. She stays hidden in my nape as I remove her gloves, tossing them to the side before gently unwrapping her hands.
Logan gasps for air between cries as her warm tears continue to fall onto my chest, soaking my shirt.
“I’m sorry,” she squeaks out.
What? What does she have to be sorry for?
I run my hand over her messy hair, trying to calm her down. “You have nothing to be sorry for, baby.”
“I’m sorry I missed your game,” she says against my skin.
“I don’t give a fuck about my game, Logan. I’m worried about you.” I pull her face away from my body so she can see my concern.
Her green eyes search mine for a moment before she climbs off my lap to stand, swiping at her tears.
“When do you leave?” she plainly asks as if she’s not in the middle of an emotional breakdown right now.
“Leave for what?” I stand from the floor, completely confused.
She takes a deep breath before looking at me, but I’m having a hard time recognizing the sad girl in front of me. “Leave for Dallas.”
I furrow my brows and shake my head. “I’m not going to Dallas. Not yet, anyway.”
“But soon,” she says, and I can’t quite tell if she’s telling me or asking me.
“Maybe.” I walk up to her, wiping another tear from her face. “I don’t know for sure yet. We don’t need to worry about that right now, Logan. We need to talk about how you’re feeling and what you’re going through.”
“I’m fine,” she states, looking at me with vacant green eyes. The look on her face is almost chilling. It’s as if she’s being haunted by grief.
“Logan, stop trying to act all tough right now. You’re not fine, and it’s okay not to be fine.”
She keeps her face turned away from me as she takes a seat on her bed, not wanting me to see just how much she’s hurting.
