Full Strength

Forty Two-Lillian ❤️‍🩹

        "Okay, don't kill me for this," I said, stepping out of my bedroom.

        Logan mimed retching, bent over at the waist. "Lillian! I thought I was special to you. Someone you cared about. Apparently I was wrong."

       "You know I'd rather wear your jersey!" I pleaded. "I just...can't."

       "Good thing I got you a present then," he said, pulling a box out from behind his back. It was wrapped in Christmas-tree paper and had a red bow on top. "Apologies for the wrapping job; I couldn't find anything more holiday-neutral."

        Laughing, I tore open the paper and took off the lid to the box. I gasped as I pulled out a jersey; this one sewn down the middle to show off the Wave on my left half and the Dragons on my right half. Turning it over in my hands, I saw that even the back had been customized. The name was written "Wes-ston", split between West and Kingston awkwardly coming together. The number was partially split too, a zero on the blue and white swirled fabric, and part of a six on the red fabric.

        My eyes stung with tears. "Logan..."

        "That way you don't have to abandon your family," he said with a half-grin. "Because abandoning me is out of the question."

        "Thank you!" I squealed, throwing my arms around him.  "This is the best gift ever!"

        He was grinning from ear-to-ear. "Come on, try it on."

        I went into my room, pulling my regular jersey over my head and tugging on the new one. It fit perfectly and I couldn't have fallen more in love with it. Coming out into the living room, Logan agreed that it looked perfect. I felt like a million bucks as we headed out to the car.

        Yesterday, Logan hadn't done so great with standing and walking. Nevertheless, we'd agreed that he could go to dinner and the game on his own two feet, as long as I brought the crutches with us and that he would immediately allow assistance as soon as I recommended it. I wasn't totally convinced he'd be fine, but I felt like giving him a regular night out was the least I could do.

        "Your parents are nice, right?" Logan asked as I parked the car in the garage downtown. He was looking slightly more nervous now that we were close to the restaurant.

        "No, they're absolute trolls and hate everyone except me," I said, grinning. "Yes, they're nice. My dad is not an aggressive coach when he's off the ice. My mom is sweet; I'm half convinced she already loves you just from what I've told her about working with you."

        "Thank goodness," he murmured.

        Briefly, I reached over and squeezed his hand. "It's okay, Logan. They're going to like you," I said softly. "And if they don't, then so what? I like you. I like you a lot."

        "Right," he said with a feeble smile. "I just want them to like me. For your sake. Your parents are important to you, so I want to be at least not despicable in their eyes."

         "They could never despise you," I promised, letting go of his hand. We were on the sidewalk now, where anyone walking by could recognize him.

        As I pushed open the door to the restaurant, Logan nervously raked his fingers through his hair. It was almost adorable how much this meant to him. He knew how play through professional playoff games, no sweat, but a dinner with his girlfriend's parents was enough to send his heart racing. 

        I hadn't even spotted my parents before they gobbled me up in hugs and kisses. Was I embarrassed? Maybe a little. Was it also the best thing that had happened to me all week? Yes. I missed them so much now that I lived hundreds of miles away. Even through college, it had felt like they were always within arms' reach. Now I valued every single visit.