Page 85 of Puck Struck
Twenty minutes later, we're back in the lobby. Tessa is with Ethan getting his blood drawn, and Logan is pacing the small space like a caged animal ready to pounce. I want to help, to fix this somehow, but there's nothing I can do except be here.
Maybe that’s enough. For now, anyway.
My phone buzzes with a message, and I suck in a breath, my insides plunged into an ice bath when I see the sender.
Hope your boyfriend's family is doing well. Heard there was a medical emergency.
I press a hand to my forehead, my heart jumping into my throat, nearly choking me. How the fuck does he know about this? How does he know about Ethan?
Another message follows.
Turns out this business deal needs an upfront investment. And since you put me in this position, I think it should come from you. Show me you're as invested in my future as I am in yours. $250,000. Consider it compensation for lost opportunities.
My hands shake as I read the words. A quarter-of-a-million dollars. Is he fucking kidding me? Where does this end?
You have one week to transfer the funds. Instructions to follow. Don't disappoint me, Connor.
"Cam?" Logan's voice cuts through my panic. "You okay?"
I lock my phone quickly, forcing a smile. "Yeah. Fine."
But I'm not fine. I'm drowning without a lifeline.
A couple of hours later, we pick up Logan’s car at theairport and I follow him home. Ethan's bloodwork showed elevated liver enzymes, but nothing requiring immediate hospitalization. Dr. Patel wants to see him again in two weeks, and they've adjusted his medications in the meantime.
"Thank you for coming," he says quietly. "That was... above and beyond."
"I wanted to be there."
He glances at me, something unreadable in his expression. "Why?"
"Because he matters to you. And you matter to me."
The words hang between us, landing heavier than I intended. Logan doesn’t say anything. Tessa takes Ethan upstairs for a nap. The kid barely stirred when Logan carried him in from Tessa’s car. That seems to rattle Logan more than any test result.
"You want some coffee?" Logan asks as he walks into the kitchen.
"Sure."
I watch him go through the motions of measuring grounds, adding water, and setting the machine to brew. His movements are mechanical, precise, like he's holding onto routine to keep from falling apart. And we both know he’s on the brink of unraveling.
"He's going to need a transplant," he says suddenly to the empty mugs he set out on the counter, not looking at me.
"You don't know that."
"I do. I've been reading about it for months to prepare. His progression, the symptoms…” He shakes his head. “We're running out of time. It’s the only option now. He’s been on a transplant list for months, but because he was never an emergency case, he hasn’t been called yet with a donor. He might not get one in time.”
"Logan, slow down?—"
"I'm a match." He keeps talking, like I haven't spoken. "I got tested last year. Tessa wasn't, though. Her blood type is incompatible. The doctors mentioned some other factors, too. Bottom line is, I’m the guy. So if he needs the transplant, I'm doing it. But it’s not an easy surgery.” His shoulders slump as he turns to look at me. “Recovery for a living liver donor, including the ability to return to most normal activities, usually takesthree to six months.But with the condition my shoulder is in, three to six months may turn into the end of the game for me. Literally. I’m barely hanging in there now. I just don’t know if I’ll be able to continue."
Logan's entire identity is wrapped up in hockey, in being strong, in being the provider for his family. The thought of losing all of that for Ethan's sake should terrify him.
Instead, he just looks resigned.
Silence stretches between us, the machine percolating. The rich scent of brewing coffee permeates the air.
"You'd do that without question," I say. Because it's not a question. I already know he’d give his life for Ethan and Tessa, no questions asked.
