Page 210 of Staying Selfless

So that’s what I’m doing now. I’m living with hope for our future instead of sadness for our past.

My days have been strenuous. Morning workouts, skating constantly, the travel, the game schedule, the studying, the therapy sessions, it’s all been nuts. But it’s also helped keep my mind off Minnesota and the girl who has my heart as I try to focus on the task at hand, which is to earn a long-term contract.

But even with my insane hockey schedule, I still mostly think of Logan. I think about how she’s handling the distance, how she’s feeling, what she’s wearing, what she’s eating, and what she’s doing. I want to know every detail about her day, but I can’t ask her all the little details because then I’ll just want to come home and be a part of them all.

I’m homesick, not for a place, but for my person.

I really fucking miss her.

The hardest part of the last six weeks is that I never allowed myself to video call her. After the first time it happened, before my first pro game, the image of her injuries stuck in my mind. They glued themselves to every crevice of my imagination, constantly reminding me that my girl was hurt, that it was partially my fault, and that I wasn’t there to help her recover.

I couldn’t see her beautiful face again, not until I knew I was coming home. Not until I achieved the thing she sent me here to Texas to do.

And I did.

We’ve talked every day through phone calls and texts, but I’d be lying if I said that it was as much as it should’ve been. And that’s on me. The days when I was missing her more than I could breathe, we talked less. I had to put some distance between us because I couldn’t focus on hockey when all I could think about was wanting to go home to her.

But how do you tell someone that every time you look at them, every time you see their injuries, you’re reminded of the worst night of your life? That you’re reminded of that sickening feeling when you thought you were going to lose them? You can’t say that without sounding like the worst person in the world, so I haven’t.

There were days that I knew if I heard her voice or saw her face, I’d hop in my truck and drive straight home, leaving all this behind.

She hasn’t been able to travel to any of my games yet. Between the injuries from her accident and finishing her school semester, the timing hasn’t worked out. But it’s for the best because if she showed up at the arena to watch me play, I’m pretty sure I’d walk out and leave with her. There’d be no way she could convince me to go back to Dallas while she flew home to Minnesota. No way.

When I first met Logan, there was a quick worry that she would be a distraction, that she could cause me to lose focus and never make it in the league. But that wasn’t the case. She’s always been my biggest supporter, and she still is.

Although now, the distractions are ones I caused myself, unable to get her out of my mind after seeing her face that day of my first game. I needed to do this for her, and I felt like I couldn’t if all I could think about was going home.

But I did it, and I get to go home. I get to go home to her tonight.

I’ve mostly packed up my little apartment here in Dallas. I didn’t bring much with me because I had no idea how long I’d be staying at the time.

Team management hooked me up with this spot to stay while I was here. It’s insanely nice, right in the best part of the city. My flat is within walking distance of restaurants, bars, and anything else I’d want to see.

But I haven’t seen any of it. I haven’t tried to make Texas my home because nothing is my home unless Logan is here. I’ve stayed inside these four walls, eating, sleeping, and studying, keeping my eyes on the prize and making sure I go back home to my girl with a contract in tow, ready to give her the future she deserves.

I no longer view hockey as my be-all and end-all. I view it as an avenue that I’m blessed to do well in and as a way to provide a future with financial freedom for my family. As a way to give Logan everything she deserves in life.

As I’m packing up the last of my clothes, my phone begins buzzing on the nightstand. I have yet to tell Logan I’m coming home tomorrow and why. I jog over to pick it up, but instead of my girl’s pretty face, Zander’s ugly mug is the one covering my screen with his caller ID.

“What’s up?” I quickly ask, wanting to get off the phone so I can send Logan the picture I’ve been keeping stored, ready to show her if and when the time came.

“What kind of greeting is that?” Zanders asks as I put him on speaker, leaving my phone on the nightstand as I continue to pack up my apartment.

“One that says, ‘I don’t have time right now.’”

“Well, make some time, you little shit. I’m trying to check in on you. You guys just got knocked out of the playoffs last night. How are you handling it?”

“I’m fine. Don’t get me wrong. My head was fully in it. I was ready to go all the way to the cup if we could, but now that the season is over for us, I’m ready to get home.”

“No shit,” Zanders laughs. “Twenty-four hours after your first season ends, and you’re going home. You know guys usually hang around a few days, turn in their things, hang with the team.”

“I don’t have time for that. I need to be home tomorrow. I told you if we lost, I needed to make sure I was back in Minnesota before noon.”

“I know. I’m just giving you shit. That’s awesome, Maddison.”

“Can we not get all sappy as fuck on the phone right now?” I project my voice from across the room, putting my things into boxes with haste.

“Sorry, let me try that again. You’re still a little bitch, and the fact that you’re rushing home tomorrow just proves that your girl has you completely pussy-whipped.”

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