Shutout

Chapter 20 - Kane

It's late as I begin to tuck myself into bed. My teeth are brushed, and my face is washed. All the lights downstairs are turned off, and Harold is curled up on the other side of the bed against the pillows. I stayed up a bit later than I usually would on a night with no game, waiting for my doorbell to ring and Logan to stand there and hug and kiss and make up and figure out what the fuck was wrong. But I haven't heard back from Logan since this morning when he finally responded to my admittedly tons of texts and phone calls. 

Logan🏒💜: I'm ok. Can we wait to talk about it until I'm back? Thxs.

I'm not sure what the fuck that's supposed to mean. I can understand how this whole situation can have a horrible impact on Logan. Even if the team went back to normal—meaning after sources said Bac's ex-hockey player dad flew down to where they were, and Bac came back looking like he sustained serious damage in the fight, at least all the players are back—the media did not. It's been two whole days full of shitty covering of the fight. 

Barely censored slurs in the headline, and no bad shit mentioned about the guy who literally said all the homophobic shit. Instead, they focus on Logan. Because he was the only faggot goalie on the Cardinal's team (that we know of). The fight was so clearly about him. It also didn't help that Logan let in too many pucks into the net over the two games, making the Cardinals sink in defeat. The media was in a frenzy. Players and coaches alike on the Cardinals deflect all comments that aren't regarding the performance of the players, and in fact, the captain, Toi, as Logan calls him, looks visibly frustrated as he hastily escapes from the mini-press conferences being held. All that has been released by coaches of both teams in the incident is a statement condemning the use of homophobic language. 

I constantly flip-flop between being too pissed off to read the sports news nad social medias and being desperate to know what's going on since i can't get ahold of Logan myself. It's a vicious cycle that has worn me out enough that Harold and I watch my emergency movie, Starstruck, which I pirated years ago. It is a shitty movie, but it always calms me and lightens my heart. Harold thinks the main actress is attractive, but he won't admit it. 

I've had my phone set on the nightstand and bedside lamp for maybe fifteen minutes when there's pounding on the door downstairs. It terrifies me at first because it's so deep and loud, echoing through my silent house. But I try to scramble to get down, forgetting my glasses along the way and almost tripping down the stairs. I grab my pocket knife from the basket by the door just in the off chance it's not who I think it'll be—the knocking has thrown my guesses off.

I flip the hallway and porch lights on and carefully unlock the door. At the moment, I feel like I'm in a horror movie where the gay crip is murdered first, just as a message to the other actors. However, as I peeked open the door, I saw a man in a suit standing before me.

It's fucking cold out at the beginning of December, but Logan is only wearing a navy suit. I can tell he's trying to stiffen his body, but it still shakes coldly. His head snapped up to meet my eyes when I opened the door all the way. 

"Hi-"

I drop the knife from my defensive pose.

"-hi, whatever. Jesus, get inside. It's like -3 degrees out," I grab a fist full of his suit jacket and try to yank Logan inside as well as I can with my strength. Logan allows me to pull him inside, still shivering but also still staring at the floor. "How long were you outside? You're freezing. Come get under some blankets and warm up."

I may be a bit pissed off that he's refused to talk to me the past few days, but the idiot froze himself on my porch. I can't stand by and watch him shiver pitifully. Logan doesn't say anything; he just lets me push him from behind into the living room, where I flick on lights as well as I can see. I take some of my millions of throw blankets and dump them onto him once he's sitting on my couch.