Full Strength

Twenty One-Logan 🏒

        "Whoa," Lillian said, putting a hand on my shoulder to steady me. Instantly, my nerves exploded, everything feeling fuzzy and warm. I tilted, my balance disappearing. Grabbing the counter for support, I drew in a deep breath.

        "Logan?" she asked, worry sneaking into her tone. I closed my eyes, doing everything I could to focus on anything else except the way she said my name.

        "I'm okay," I said, although I probably didn't sound very okay. "Just...tired."

        It wasn't a lie. My muscles were sore and my leg was throbbing in places that probably shouldn't have been throbbing. But I was dizzy and my legs were made of jelly, things that were definitely happening because I'd kissed Lillian.

        I'd kissed Lillian. I should've probably been full of regret and wondering if it had been a mistake, but all I could latch onto was the rush it gave me. The way she'd smiled, the way she'd looked at me with the entire universe in her eyes, it was enough to kill a man. I could still hear my heart beating ten times louder than usual.

        "Sit down," she instructed, pulling out one of the kitchen stools. I carefully perched on the stool, shedding my winter coat. While it did make me warm, I was still a little damp.

        "Do you want to shower tonight?" she asked, taking off her boots. "Or do you want to just go to sleep and I can wash all your sheets tomorrow?"

        Showering tonight would've been nice, to rinse away all the chlorine. Except I didn't trust myself not to fall in the shower and crack open my skull. I was simply too tired. "Can I shower tomorrow?" I asked, feeling bad about making her do all the laundry.

        "Yeah, of course. Let me grab your pajamas," Lillian said, walking into my room. Her hair hung in stringy waves, limply draped over the hood of her coat. I shook my head, trying to rattle myself back to my senses. I couldn't just keep staring at her all the time.

        She returned, now wearing an oversized t-shirt and holding my pajamas. I looked down at my leg, asking, "Should we wrap it before or after I change?"

        "Before. Right, sorry. Thanks for the reminder," she said, looking as if she wanted to kick herself as she grabbed the first-aid bag from the living room. I'd never seen her this flustered before. Granted, I was just as flustered if not more. But Lillian was all about being poised and having control of situations. Watching her fumble the tape and get it stuck to itself was unusual, to say the least.

        "Lilli?" I asked, still holding my foot out.

        "Yes?" she asked in a tight voice.

        "Are we going to talk about this?"

        She shook her head vigorously. "Tomorrow. When...things aren't so fresh and-and we can have time to ourselves so we can think. And process."

        It wasn't a bad idea. Because sitting in the kitchen, patiently waiting as she layered the bandages around my ankle, it was starting to sink in. This could be catastrophic. She could lose her job, or I could lose mine, or both. I'd known that, of course, but now it was clearly weighing on her.

        "Tomorrow," I agreed, because she was right that we both needed time to ourselves. Of course, that could give her time to go talk to the coaches or the press, but I trusted her not to say anything. I got the feeling she trusted me not to say anything, either. Yes, it was a dangerous risk to take, but telling on the other person would only put yourself in jeopardy.

         Taping off the end, she asked softly, "Is this too tight?"

          I noticed her hands. "Lilli, your hands are shaking."