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“I’m not going,” I plainly state.
“What?”
“I’m not fucking going.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I’m not fucking going, Marc! Not when I don’t even know if Logan...” My voice falls off, unable to finish that sentence.
“EJ, Logan was going to go with you. As soon as she found out about the pregnancy, she decided to go with you. She wants this for you.”
“No,” I tell him, shaking my head. “She gives up everything for everyone else. Finishing grad school here is the one thing she wanted. I’m not letting her give that up, too.”
I lean back in my chair, covering my face with my crossed arms. “She wasn’t moving at all, Marc.” My chest heaves in a cry. “What if she’s not okay? What if they’re not okay?”
This thing between her and I is supposed to last forever, but what if her forever is shorter than mine?
Chapter 45
Eli
The coffee in my hand is getting cold as I pace the hospital hallway, but still, I don’t drink it. I have so much adrenaline coursing through my veins that I could go without sleep for days at this point. I don’t need the added caffeine.
And I’m sure as shit not going to calm down until I get some kind of update on how my girl is doing.
It’s well after midnight, and the only word I’ve gotten is that they’re still doing tests. That’s it—nothing else.
I toss the cold coffee into the trash can at the end of the empty corridor, which draws attention to the sleeve of my shirt. I don’t know how I didn’t notice it until now, but it’s covered in blood.
Logan’s blood.
She had a pretty nasty gash on her forehead when I pulled her out of the car, and there were streams of red coating her face when I brushed her hair away.
And it’s all my fault.
It was my fault that she was there, in the car, driving to a bar to celebrate my victory.
If I would’ve just called her the second I got off the ice, if I would’ve just told her as soon as my coach informed me that Dallas had called me up, if I would’ve just asked her to stay home because I was on my way, none of this would’ve happened.
That driver was drunk because he was celebrating my victory. He was at that bar because of my team. And he couldn’t control his car when the tires hit the ice because he was under the influence from celebrating me.
The fucking ice on the roads. Things could’ve been different if the streets weren’t frozen over. The driver could’ve reacted differently instead of letting the ice dictate where his car would go.
Ironic, really, that my life has always been defined by the ice, playing hockey, but now it has the power to take away my entire reason for existing.
I’ve always loved the way the ice feels under my blades. The cool calmness that takes over when I glide along its smooth texture. The power I have over it.
I love the ice when I’m in charge.
But when I’m not in charge of it? When it has the ability to take away the most important person in my life? To strip my family away from me? It’s suddenly my worst enemy.
I was so concerned about Logan driving that fucking Honda during the winter, but it didn’t even matter what car she was in because it wasn’t her fault. It was that fucking drunk driver’s fault.
And it was my fault.
The guilt crashes hard onto my chest as I lean my back against the hallway wall. I slide down until my ass hits the ground, my knees tucked into me and my elbows draping over them. There’s a thickness in my throat that I can’t swallow. The guilt sits heavily on me everywhere.
I’ve never related more to Logan than I do right now.
