Page 177 of Staying Selfless

I tried my best to sound as neutral as possible while on the line, needing to mask my excitement until I saw her in person, not wanting to give away how pumped I am.

I can’t fucking believe it.

Ignoring her texts all day was so fucking difficult, but I needed to see her in person before we had this conversation.

I jog across the street to Double G, knowing she would end up here tonight. When I asked Marc what Logan’s plan was for the night, he told me he was out celebrating, and she was going to join, so I drove over here as soon as I landed at the airport.

I hopped on the first plane out of Massachusetts, needing to get back here, needing to see Logan and have this conversation face to face.

“I’m fucking somber!” a guy shouts as he’s being dragged out of the bar by security. “Sober, I mean! I’m sober!”

Fuck no, he’s not.

He pulls himself out of the security guard’s grasp, stumbling out of the exit. An older woman wearing my jersey is frozen in his way, so I grab her by the waist and pull her out of his path of drunken destruction as security regains control of the wasted idiot.

“Oh my,” she gasps before she turns to face me. “Oh! Maddison. Honey, Maddison just saved me!” she calls out to who I assume is her husband.

“Maddison!” her husband rings out, forcing everyone in hearing distance to turn and look at me. If I ever felt like some sort of celebrity, it would be tonight. This bar is packed to the brim with fans wearing my number on their chests, drinking in celebration because of me. Because of our team and what we just did. “What are you doing here, son? You should be on your way to the Frozen Four!”

Before I can answer, the screeching skid of tires pulls everyone’s attention to the intersection behind me.

I watch it all happen.

I watch the blue SUV realize way too late that they have a red light.

I watch them try to regain control of their wheel when their tires hit the ice.

I watch them try to slam on their brakes and turn against the spin-out, which only sends their car veering the opposite way, slamming into a white Honda Civic in the middle of the intersection, giving the Civic no time at all to react.

White Honda Civic.

I just watched them slam their car into Logan’s driver-side door. I know in my gut that’s her car. I have a tethered pull to my girl, and I know she’s in that car.

The hair on the back of my neck stands up straight as my shoulders and leg muscles tighten, freezing me in place, rooting me to the ground. I blink uncontrollably as the shouts and shrieks surround me, which thankfully pulls me out of my shock-induced trance.

“Logan!” I scream. My voice is loud and strong as my legs carry me to the intersection in no time at all.

But there’s no response.

“Logan!” I yell again. This time my voice is cracked and afraid as I sprint around the car that caused the accident, trying to get a better look at my girl. Trying to make sure she’s okay.

But I can’t get to her, and I can barely see her. But that’s her red hair sprawled across her shoulders. The car that hit her is lodged against Logan’s door, creating a barrier and blocking me from pulling her out on the driver’s side. The SUV’s hood is smoking due to the impact, and I need to get Logan out of there.

A mass of people has surrounded the two smashed cars, frantic voices rising all around. Shouts and screams ring out around me, but my ears are buzzing with focus and determination as I sprint to the passenger side door of Logan’s little white car.

I push a few bystanders out of the way with the adrenaline coursing through me. Some of these people are trying to help, but most are still in shock, unsure of what to do.

Yanking the opposite door open, my stomach drops when I see Logan lying unconscious in the driver’s seat. Wine-colored hair thrown all around, and red splattering of blood on her face. The airbags are deployed, but her seatbelt is on, thank god.

I swallow the pit in my stomach and will my shaking hands to remove her from her seat. Quickly unfastening her seatbelt, I wrap my arm around her waist, bringing her limp body into mine, and pulling her out of the car via the passenger side door.

“Baby?” my shaky voice squeaks out as I lie her down on the frozen asphalt.

“Logan!” I yell, needing to get her attention as I move her hair out of her face.

Her beautiful face is covered in marks and blood from the impact of the accident.

And she’s still not moving.

---