Page 70 of Puck Drop
Instead of responding to him, I take a deep breath in and start writing. At first, the tip of the marker on the paper gives me the chills. It is the equivalent of what I would imagine chalk on a blackboard would be. At least that’s how my father always described it. We had a whiteboard with markers when I was in school, so I don’t know.
I write furiously with bullet points, then more bullet points to the bullet points. At some point, I run out of paper and need to flip the page over. My shoulder is a bit stiff after a while, and my fingers are cramping as they hold the marker. By the time I am done, I am completely breathless.
Dropping the marker to the floor, I flip the pad back to the first page and start reading what I just wrote. I squint as I try tomake out the words, and some things don’t make sense at all. I pause and start reading again, but I get the same results.
There’s pain in my chest as I feel something like a panic attack taking over. I press a hand over my heart and look away from the easel.
“I am literally incapable of anything,” I mumble, then burst into tears.
“Baby!” Logan catches me just as I start crashing to the floor. He cushions the fall with his body, then just holds me as I cry my heart out.
“It all made sense in my head,” I sob. “I can’t even figure out what I wrote. No wonder he thinks I’m an idiot.”
Logan continues holding me, keeping my head close to his chest.
“You’re not an idiot, baby. You are smart, and you are so talented,” he whispers in my ear. “This was a long day, and it’s almost midnight. You are stressed out…”
I nod at everything he says, but I’m still not sure that he’s right. If I was as smart as he thinks that I am, I wouldn’t be in this situation. I am as helpless as a small child.
“What am I going to do, Logan?” I wail. “What if things don’t work out with my paintings?” I ask. “And what if things between us don’t work out? I will have to go back to him for help.”
Pulling my head back a little, I use the sleeve of my robe to wipe at my nose. My face feels swollen from crying, and I’m sure I look like a mess.
Logan’s arms tighten more around me. “You’re not going anywhere,” he tells me in a firm voice. “Are you telling me that you followed me all the way here only to give up now?” I know he’s teasing me, but I can’t even smile.
I sniffle into his chest. “I wouldn’t have had to follow you anywhere had I not pursued you to begin with,” I remind him. “I ruined your life.”
That seems to anger him. He grabs me by the arms and puts only enough distance between us so he could see my face.
“Are you saying that my love for you means nothing?” he demands to know. “That you’re the only one who ever had any control over our relationship?”
His words make me sound awful and like… Like I am my father’s daughter. I drop my face in my hands and cry some more.
“I am just like him,” I wail. “Except that I don’t have his money. And that’s the only thing he has to hold over my head.”
Logan gives me a disappointed look. “No one is holding anything over your head, Lizzie. The fact that he wanted to talk to you tonight tells me that he cares…”
I snort at that. “He cares about seeing me miserable,” I tell him.
Logan sighs and pulls me back into his arms. He rocks me from side to side as he tries to calm me down. He tries to do anything in his power to make me feel better, and I try to assure him that I am okay.
But, deep down, I don’t know how I can be.
TWENTY-THREE
Logan
“Mantei, focus,”Coach bellows my way.
My timing at practice has been off all day today. For some reason, I just can’t keep my mind in the game. Now, as I skate more leisurely around the net after an intense drill, I shake my head as I try to catch my breath.
“What’s going on, dude?” Sebastian breaks his skates next to me. “You didn’t look so good just now.”
I bang my stick against the glass, and if it wasn’t made to face any abuse, I’m sure it’d break in half.
“My head is all fucked up,” I admit to him.
He skates alongside me as we do a couple more laps around the net.
