Logan Romano took the NHL like a hurricane- dark and brooding.
With his natural talent, brute force and sheer determination, he goes completely unchallenged both on and off the ice.
He's notorious. Both for his success and his stormy personality...
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"Happy New Year, sweetheart!" Mom practically screams down the phone, her beaming face filling my screen as I FaceTime her from the hospital waiting room.
"Happy New Year, Mom. You look happy." I chuckle as she proudly shows me the full glass of white wine in her hand. "That's one of many drinks, I assume?"
She rolls her eyes like my accusation is insulting but I can still hear my sister snickering in the back. "It's New Year's Day for God sake! Is a woman not allowed to enjoy herself and celebrate?"
"Easy, easy." I hold my free hand up in defence. "I'm not judging, just asking a question. No need to be so defensive."
"I'm not defensive I just-" Her brows quirk up as she quickly straightens in her seat.
"Wait. That's not your apartment. That looks like a-" She pauses, squinting at the white walls behind me and no doubt listening to the distant noise of nurses, monitors and gurneys rolling down the hall. "Logan Romano, are you in a damn hospital right now?"
I bristle in the plastic armchair and sigh. "Yes but before you freak out, it's not what you think-"
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Mom screeches down the phone, drawing the eye of every passer-by.
"Mom, I'm not here for me I-"
"What kind of son is hospitalised, on New Year's Day no less, and doesn't tell his Goddamn Mother? I have no idea what goes on in that messed up head of yours, child!"
Nice, thanks, Mom. My lips are set into a firm line as I bluntly ask, "You done?"
"Not even close, young man." She points her finger at the screen and gives me a threatening glare. "You tell me what is going on right this second or I will be on the first flight to New York, you hear me?"
"Well," I start smugly. "If you had just listened to me first instead of throwing a damn fit, you'd know exactly why I'm here."
Mom brings the phone closer to her face and clearly shows me her displeased face. "Do I look amused, smart ass? Tell me. Now."
Damn, that wine-induced cheer has quickly dissolved..
"It's Nova's D-"
"It's Nova? Is she in the hospital? Is she okay?" Mom rushes out in one breath, my sister now joining her in the frame with an equally concerned face.
"She's not pregnant is she? Because I just read this article that said a woman dies every 2 minutes from-"
"Jesus, Gabrielle! No, she's not fucking pregnant. What's the damn matter with you?"
