Page 121 of Puck Struck
"Your past? Cam, none of this is your fault. You were being stalked by a psychopath and blackmailed by that piece of shit Keating. And instead of being there for you, I made you handle it alone."
"You had enough to deal with. Ethan, your shoulder, your career?—"
"There are no excuses for what I did.” The words tumble out before I can stop them. "You're the best thing that's happened to me in years, and I almost lost you because I was too scared to admit I need you."
"Logan..." His voice is scratchy and thick.
"I love you," I whisper, bringing his hand to my lips, my chest swelling with emotion. I can’t believe I almost didn't get the chance to tell him. "I'm in love with you, and I'm so sorry it took you almost dying for me to get my head out of my ass."
"You love me?" His voice breaks on the words.
"Yeah. I do. And if you'll let me, I want to make this right. All of it. Whatever comes next, we face it together."
"Together," he murmurs. "I'd like that."
I lean down and press my lips to his forehead, breathing in the scent of him, grateful beyond words that he's alive, that he's here, that I get another chance to love him the right way.
"Rest," I say. "I'll be here when you wake up."
"Promise?"
"I swear."
As he drifts back to sleep, I settle into the chair beside his bed, his hand still clasped in mine. The monitors beep steadily,a reassuring rhythm that says he's alive, he's safe, and he's mine.
Tomorrow, we'll deal with the media circus. We'll figure out how to move forward, how to face the fallout from William Keating's schemes and James's attack. I'll tell him about the surgery consultation, about Dr. Patel's concerns, about how scared I am that I might not be able to save Ethan.
But tonight, I just hold his hand and listen to him breathe, grateful for second chances I didn't deserve and promises I plan to keep.
THIRTY-TWO
cam
Sharp,shooting pain. That’s the first thing I feel when I crack open my eyes. Then the warmth of Logan’s hand clasping mine soothes the jagged edges, calming me. For a fleeting second, the pain dissipates and everything feels perfect. But reality doesn’t take a breather for long. It crashes back in, memories of the past day flying toward me like bullets I can’t dodge…the stabbing, the surgery, the media shit storm that's probably waiting for me outside these walls.
"Hey," Logan says softly, squeezing my fingers. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I got stabbed by a psychopath," I say, trying for humor that falls flat.
"Too soon for jokes." But his lips quirk up slightly. "The doctor says you can probably go home in a couple of days if you keep improving."
Home. The word should make me feel better, but all I can think about is what's waiting for me out there, what I’ll be left to deal with once I make it out of the safety of these walls. "How bad is it? The press coverage?"
Logan's eyebrows knit together and he lets out a deep sigh. "It's...a lot. The stabbing is front page news, but William Keating's character assassination campaign is still making rounds too. People love fucking drama."
I close my eyes, my head sinking deeper into the pillow. "So I'm either a victim or a fraud, depending on which article you read."
"You're neither."
I open my eyes to see him standing over me. He leans forward, his voice deep and fierce. "You're a survivor who got targeted by assholes with agendas."
A knock on the door interrupts us. Rex Ashton walks in, followed by Bob Marshall and Eli Hartnet. My stomach drops. Having the GM and PR director show up in your hospital room is never good news. Maybe they’re here to tell me they’re going to pull my contract because of the news.
Fuck. I’m nothing without hockey. I sacrificed so much to get here, I can’t lose it now.
Logan doesn’t let go of my hand, and it feels like a lifeline right now, one I desperately need.
"Cam," Bob says, his expression unreadable. His eyes flicker briefly at our hands before he looks back at me. "How are you feeling?"
