Page 1 of Staying Selfless

Chapter 1

Eli

I know how our story ends, and I’m sure you do too. I’ve had the image stuck in my head for a while now. Logan, in a white dress, red hair falling past her shoulders, walking towards me. I was sure that was our ending, or our beginning really, but now I’m not so positive. You saw our beginning, and I thought I knew our ending, but now I’m worried that the middle will change it all. I’m worried that the picture in my head will never become a reality, that it won’t be our ending anymore.

It’s been three weeks. Three fucking weeks since I last saw Logan that day in her dorm.

She drove back to California that night with way too many of her belongings, including what was left of my broken heart. To say I’ve been a mess is a gross understatement.

I went home and tried to sleep in my bed at the hockey house that night, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t sleep in the place where she first told me she loved me. That room is filled with her, but she wasn’t there. I packed a bag and drove to my parents’ house off-campus, but when I walked into my room there, I almost had a breakdown seeing the bed where we first slept together. Where she trusted me enough to take that part of her, but now it feels like she doesn’t trust me at all. She doesn’t trust that I can handle what she’s going through.

I took a pillow and threw it on the couch downstairs, creating a makeshift bed that I’ve now been sleeping on for three weeks. Three fucking weeks. Also, I use the term ‘sleeping’ loosely. In all honesty, I haven’t done much of that.

I guess the good news is that I haven’t had a single panic attack since Logan’s been gone. Well, not about hockey anyway. I’ve woken up in a panic almost every night the past three weeks, short of breath and drenched in sweat. But the anxiety I feel has nothing to do with concern over my future in hockey and everything to do with my future with Logan—or lack thereof.

I even went to the pond to clear my mind now that the ice is frozen over, but I turned around and left as soon as I got there. I can no longer find relief in the place where I fell in love with her, especially since the relief I’m seeking is from the broken heart that she left me with.

I’ve been living in a pretty colorless world without Logan’s red hair or green eyes. I don’t even know if I’d call it living. I would say I’m existing. And just barely.

I always thought I had one dream—to play professional hockey. That shifted to two dreams—that Logan would be by my side when it happened. But now, I realize my only hope is that she’ll come back to me. That the picture in my head won’t just be an image taunting me every night, but that it will become our reality. That she’ll be mine forever.

I’ve texted her every morning to tell her I love her. Sometimes I get a reply. Sometimes I don’t. I try not to take it personally, but I’m not always successful with that. I know Logan is going through it. I know she feels like she’s drowning in grief. I know this because I can feel it too.

I’ve heard about heartbreak. Either through the pages of a book or the lyrics of a song, but those don’t prepare you for what it really feels like. Real heartbreak isn’t just emotional. It’s physical, it’s spiritual, it’s absolutely life-altering, and I would never wish it on anyone.

I understand now why people are hesitant to get into relationships once they have emotional scars, but I’d go through these three weeks over and over again if I knew, for a fact, I’d get the ending with Logan that I have pictured in my head.

Christmas was an absolute nightmare. I stayed in my bed all weekend, trying to hide my sadness from my family. But they all knew because they missed her too. I think my dad feels guilty because of their conversation on Thanksgiving about her needing to grieve, but he was right. It was going to have to happen eventually. I just wish she would let me be there for her while she goes through it.

The best part about Christmas was that she actually answered my phone call. I swear to god, my voice cracked with excitement when her phone didn’t go straight to voicemail as it had so many times before. But the girl on the other end didn’t sound like the Logan I know. She sounded broken and hurt and tired. She told me she loved me, though, and that was the best Christmas gift I could’ve asked for.

She didn’t stay on the line with me for long. Instead, she asked if she could speak to my dad. They talked on the phone for almost an hour while he sat in his office with his door closed. I don’t know what they talked about, but I did notice how puffy his eyes were afterward. He cries over the people he loves, the same way I do. As much as I want to be the person who makes Logan feel better, the fact that she can go to my dad makes me happy for her. Happy that she has someone who understands her. They’ve been through the same thing, losing their families, so I’m glad he can be there for my girl.

Marc’s been struggling too. Not as much as me, but close. He loves her and feels a lot of guilt that he didn’t see her breakdown coming earlier. He feels like a bad friend, but he’s not. He’s the best friend—to her and to me. One of the hardest parts about these three weeks is that Marc has spent it in Indiana while I’ve been on campus most of the time. I had practices and games that I couldn’t miss.

My parents came to Minnesota for a game, but I played like shit. In fact, I’ve played like shit ever since Logan left. I just don’t seem to care about hockey all that much anymore. I’ve spent more time in the penalty box than I’d like to admit, but I can’t help it. I have to take my frustration out on somebody, and after punching Zac that day in the parking lot, fighting seems to be my only relief, even if the feeling is fleeting.

Maybe Logan had the right idea, getting into boxing to relieve her frustration. I’ve been doing the same, but instead of a bag, I’ve been using our opponents.

One of the worst days was when we had a road trip to Wisconsin. My away jersey was still in Logan’s dorm, and I needed to take it with me. Marc and Ali were both out of town, so there was no one to go into her room to get it for me. I used her spare key to get inside, but once I did, my heart sank, seeing how much of her stuff she had taken with her. She even took the picture of her parents and the photo of us that were sitting on her bookshelf.

That was the day it hit me that she may never be coming back.

My eyes were red when I made it on the players’ bus to head to the airport, but Cam was a good friend. He made sure no one saw me, and he took over my captain duties for the day. He’s never once asked why I haven’t been sleeping at the hockey house. I think he knows. The rest of the guys have been giving me shit about it, but they don’t know that Logan left. I only told Cam. I can tell he misses her too. They have an unexpected friendship, but I also think it’s kind of cool that he doesn’t just view her as my girlfriend, but as her own person and as his own friend.

I want to be mad at Logan. I think part of me is mad at her for running back to California and leaving me here. For not letting me in. But I can’t be mad. You can’t tell someone how they should or shouldn’t grieve. There are no rules to this.

I’m trying not to be selfish here because this isn’t about me or our relationship. That’s not the issue. The issue is that Logan is hurting and wants to suffer through it alone. It’s hard not to be selfish, but all I want is for her to come home to me.

It’s been the worst three weeks of my life, and I don’t know if there’s an end in sight.

Today is New Year’s Eve. The last day of the best and worst year of my life. There’s a big party at the hockey house for any students still on campus, but I’m not going. I’ll be at my parents’ house, on the couch, wallowing in self-pity when the clock strikes midnight.

Besides, I have to leave for Senior Showcase in Chicago in just a couple of days, and I’m not fucking around with alcohol this close to it.

I just have to get through this last practice before spending a couple of much needed days to myself. I’ve got to try to get my head on straight before heading to Chicago. Every NHL team will have a scout there, and as much as I don’t give a shit about hockey at the moment, I need to try and start caring again.

New Year’s Eve practice always fucking sucks. No one wants to be here, but our coach knows that everyone will be too hungover to practice tomorrow, so today it is.

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