Page 41 of Shattered Souls
“Can we see him?” I ask, glancing between him and Grayson.
“We’ll find out.” Grayson’s expression is a mask of determination as he grasps my hand again and marches us up the stairs and away from the ice.
Perhaps because of the fight or because there is still time on the clock, but there is no security in the hallway leading to the locker rooms.
Shoving the door open, the locker room is eerily quiet as we enter. With the team still on the ice, it is empty. “He’s not here.” I march over to his locker. His street clothes are still hanging up, so he hasn’t left the stadium.
“Treatment room,” Royce says, his words only increasing the churning in my stomach. They wouldn’t have taken him there unless he needed to be seen by medical personnel, right?
Royce leads the way, probably knowing roughly where the treatment room is from his days on the football field. He pokes his head into several empty rooms before we find the right one. Inside, Logan sits on the examination table, a butterfly bandage applied to the cut above his eye. Ice packs rest on his knuckles, and his lip is split, a stark contrast to his usually composed demeanor.
“Logan,” I breathe, relief flooding me at the sight of him, but it’s mixed with a deep, gnawing worry.
Logan’s head snaps up. His hair is damp with sweat sticking to his forehead, and his expression is a mix of exhaustion and frustration. His lips twist in an uncharacteristic frown. “I’m fine, Riley.” Except his voice lacks any of its usual confidence, and he can’t seem to look me in the eye. “Just a few cuts and bruises.”
My lips purse. He never calls me Riley. It’s always Shortcake, and I fuckinghatehearing my name on his tongue.
I step closer, my eyes taking in the full extent of his injuries. His jersey and shoulder pads are tossed on a nearby chair, his bare chest revealing red splotches that will bruise. From the waist down, he’s still clad in his hockey gear, skates discarded on the floor at the end of the bench.
My fingers itch to touch him, but I’m not sure if he wants me to. “Logan,” I say his name softly and wait until he finally lifts his gaze to mine. “What happened out there?”
His face pinches, and he shakes his head. “Nothing.”
Grayson scoffs behind me. “That wasn’t nothing. You were on a rampage. You’ll be lucky if you don’t get suspended for the rest of the season.”
Logan glowers at him over my shoulder until, unable to help myself, I touch his arm. His eyes snap back to mine, immediately softening. What looks like regret flashes across his chestnut hues.
“Tell me what happened,” I plead. “Please.”
Logan looks away, the muscles in his jaw working as he struggles to find the words. Royce steps forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We’re all under a lot of stress, man. Whatever you’re feeling, you know you can tell us.”
Taking a deep breath, Logan’s eyes meet mine. Whatever walls he’d erected when we walked in, crumble, leaving so much pain and unspoken turmoil in their wake.
“I’m sorry, Shortcake.” Pulling me into him, I wrap my arms around his waist and breathe out a sigh of relief into his warm chest.Thisis my Logan.Folding over me, he presses a kiss to the top of my head. “Just… Last night. Letting you down again. Being back at square one…” He sighs, and it’s such a defeated sound that I can’t help but squeeze him tighter. “I’m sorry.”
Face pressed against his chest, I shake my head. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Logan.” Lifting my head back to see his face, I say, “You’re always taking care of me, putting my needs first. You need a way to let out your frustration.”
Brushing his thumb down my cheek, genuine regret is carved into his features as he murmurs, “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”
“I know.”
“Maybe next time, though, you could find a way to let out your frustration that doesn’t incite a riot and get you kicked from the game,” Royce drawls.
Ignoring him, Logan gives me a cheeky grin, and my last bit of concern fades. With a wink, he lifts his face to look at Royce. “Guess I could beat on your pretty face instead.”
Royce snorts. “If you think I won’t hit you back just because you’re gonna be a pro hockey player someday, you’ve got another thing coming.”
“I might have an alternative to beating each other up…” When Logan’s teasing brown eyes slide to mine, I press up on my toes and bring my lips to his. Stunned, his lips are unmoving against mine. However, it lasts all of a second before he relents, groaning as he kisses me back with fierce possession.
My lips part, the taste of copper sliding over my tongue and adding a primal edge to our heated kiss. There’s the sound of his ice pack hitting the examination table before his hand slides into my hair, holding me still as he devours my mouth.
“Seriously?” I hear Grayson grumble from somewhere nearby, but I don’t pay him any heed. Logan needs this.
We all do.
Climbing onto the table, my crotch slides over his as my knees fall on either side of the thick pads encasing his legs. The fact that Logan only hauls me closer shows just how badly he needs this release.
He’s been setting his feelings aside to accommodate mine. To take care of me. To ensureI’mokay. But I want to take care of him, too. I don’t want him to bottle things up until they explode out of him like they did tonight.
