Page 15 of Sticks & Serpents

Still waiting! Let me know if you’re okay.

As soon as I hit send, dread settled heavily on my shoulders like an unwanted weight. Why did it feel like there was a shadow hanging over this whole night?

I leaned back in my chair, forcing myself to breathe slowly. I had promised not to overthink it. Maybe Logan’s phone died. Maybe he got caught up at the rink, talking strategy or something important with the guys. It happened.

You need to chill.

But then I noticed something—a ripple of whispers weaving through the bar like a current. My heart began to race as I strained to catch snippets of conversation floating on the air.

“Did you hear about Logan Hartley?”

The name struck me like a punch to the gut. My stomach dropped, twisting into knots.

“Fight—no, worse than a fight.”

“Hospital.”

Each word seemed to slice through the ambient noise around me, sharpening my focus and heightening my fear. A chill spread through my fingers, turning my hands ice-cold as dread pooled in my gut.

I shot a glance around the room, desperate for context, searching for familiar faces who might know what was happening. A group of guys near the bar looked serious, their heads bowed together like conspirators hatching a plot.

Panic twisted tighter inside me as I scrolled back through my texts with Logan. Had he been in some kind of trouble? The whispers continued, swirling around me, growing louder and more frantic.

“He didn’t deserve that,” one girl said, her voice laced with shock. “He was just out for a run.”

A run? My thoughts spiraled out of control. Was Logan hurt? I bit down hard on my lip, feeling the sting of anxiety threaten to spill over into tears.

I couldn’t stay here any longer—not while everyone gossiped about his fate like it was some kind of sick game.

With shaking hands, I grabbed my phone and stood up abruptly from the table, scanning for any sign of movement at the entrance or anywhere that could lead me closer to answers. The waiter approached again with a curious look.

“Are you all right?”

"I… I have to leave. I'm sorry."

"Can I do anything to help?"

I waved him off but didn’t stop moving toward the door. My heart raced as fear clawed at my insides—the last thing I needed was another round of whispers about someone I cared about being in danger.

I hurried out of The Pour House, the cool night air hitting me like a splash of cold water. My heart raced, pounding in my ears as I navigated through the clusters of people lingering outside. A few couples laughed, their voices echoing into the night, but I felt completely disconnected from their joy.

As I approached my car, a worn-out Honda parked at the far end of the lot, doubt gnawed at me. Maybe I was being dramatic. Maybe Logan just wasn’t interested anymore. He had been so excited about tonight, but perhaps that had changed.

I fished my keys from my bag and clicked the unlock button, the soft beep slicing through my swirling thoughts. It would suck if he didn’t want to see me again—if this was just another disappointment layered on top of all the others.

But then I remembered those whispers:“Fight... hospital...”

What if something had happened to him during his run? What if he’d gotten hurt? I could almost picture it—a twisted ankle or worse. My stomach churned at the thought. It would be awful, and yes, I would check on him. But that didn’t mean it had to be anything more than concern for someone who might need help.

I slid into the driver’s seat and closed the door behind me, leaning against it for a moment as I collected myself. The inside felt like a small cocoon—familiar and safe—yet anxiety still crackled in the air.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, jolting me back to reality. I fished it out and glanced at the screen. No new messages from Logan; just a notification about an upcoming game.

Frustration bubbled within me as I tossed my phone onto the passenger seat. It shouldn’t feel this complicated—wasn’t it easier to let things be?

I turned on the ignition and felt the engine rumble to life beneath me. Maybe this time I should take a step back instead of jumping into things headfirst like always. Perhaps that was what all these chaotic emotions were telling me.

Still, as I backed out of my parking space and into the street, unease settled deep in my chest like an unwelcome guest refusing to leave.

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