Chapter 36: Ellie

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The apartment's darkness and silence greeted Logan and me when we arrived home. He changed out of his suit and into a T-shirt and sleep pants while I headed into the kitchen and pulled out leftovers that I'd made earlier, just some leftover chicken and vegetables since tomorrow was another grocery run.

Mental note, Sunday I need to do an Ellie's Kitchen update too.

"Thanks." Logan sat down at the table with a sigh.

"You okay?" I placed my closest hand on his shoulder, which was tight with tension.

"Yeah," he replied in a low, flat voice, absently ran one hand through his hair, then rubbed at the back of his neck. "I can't believe Emmitt got hurt."

He didn't have to say where his thoughts were, how quickly the game changed or even potentially ended for a player. I'd held that concern for Jake, still did if I thought about it. Once Logan was my boyfriend, I'd clutched onto Grace's hands during every high school game of his that I'd witnessed, and the same nervous apprehension rose inside me once his cleats trotted out onto Huskies Field.

All of the guys took the risk of injury every time they walked on the field, in practice or games, which was stressful and concerned their family and loved ones. While I was glad that Logan had won today's game, I knew the victory was bittersweet.

"Charlie texted me that he'd gone for some x-rays and an MRI." The uncertainty of the starting quarterback situation also hung in the air but two things I knew for certain happened if Logan became the starter. First, he'd take the position by storm and never look back, but second, his attention level increased one hundred-fold.

His hand on his neck moved and rubbed over his throwing arm's shoulder. "I'm not gonna lie, stepping out onto the field was awesome. I couldn't have imagined a better experience, even though we have a lot of improvements on offense. But still -"

"I know." I squeezed his shoulder muscle, then before my movements registered in my brain, walked behind him, grabbed his throwing arm's shoulder in both hands, and kneaded my fingers and palm into the tight muscles. I certainly was no Charlie but had seen how she worked over sore muscles enough times that I least mimicked the movements.

"Ahh..." Logan groaned, dropped his chin to his chest, then rolled it sideways and stretched his neck. I moved my hands up and rubbed the pads of my thumbs against the tension knots he held there, until he put one of his hands warmly over mine and stopped me. In one breath, he lifted one of my hands to his lips and pressed a soft kiss there.

"Thank you," he murmured into the back of my hand. "Let's eat though, please."

"Sure." I took the seat next to him and slowly worked my way through dinner. Honestly, I wasn't very hungry and the longer we sat in silence, the more I just pushed food around my plate.

Logan and I had slipped into some oddly domesticated lifestyle together, nothing that was forced but had just happened. There was an odd, homey comfort to his presence and, for the first time since I'd been shocked at the sight of him, I was genuinely glad that he was here.

That comfort did nothing about the giant lump of guilt that took up residence in my stomach at what I needed to tell him. Dr. Stern's suggestions that I led with his feelings resurfaced, despite one thing that obviously needed to happen.

I need to apologize to him.

"You played great," I finally broke the silence with an admission that suddenly made me feel shy. "I... didn't say that earlier."

"Thanks." His eyes lifted to me but they were full of an unreadable emotion, like he knew that wasn't the direction I steered the conversation towards. How he felt about that though, I wasn't sure.

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