The Way We Touch: or Wrangling the Wide Receiver (The Bradford Boys)

“Has he been going to therapy or something?” Garrett is at Logan’s bedside, waiting to help the large male nurse get him into the wheelchair.

I stand at the door with his bag of clothes and toiletries.

“Don’t know.” Logan slides to the edge of the bed.

“Was he drunk?” My brother teases.

“I’ve never seen my father drunk.” Logan looks up at the man in scrubs gripping his arm. “Is this really necessary? I can walk on the crutches just fine.”

“It’s the rules,” the nurse says.

“They’re all out there.” He gives the guy a look of please, but nobody’s getting anything past Logan’s nurse.

I almost wonder if that’s why he was assigned to my tall, dark, and stubborn boyfriend.

“We have security on standby if we need it.” The man nods to Garrett, who steadies Logan’s other side.

Logan drops into the wheelchair with a frustrated grunt, and my brother and I follow as we slowly make our way to the elevator. Nurses and staff smile and applaud, and Logan forces a smile, nodding his thanks.

We’re safe inside the hospital, but when the elevator doors open at the first floor, hoards of fans and spectators are visible through the glass doors. They’ve lined the streets, hoping to catch a glimpse of the injured celebrity.

He looks up at me. “You want to go on ahead?”

“Do you mind?” I reach down to hold his hand.

“It would actually make me feel better, since I’m stuck in this chair. It’s going to take forever to get me out of it and into the SUV, and I’d rather not have you standing around exposed.”

“Okay. I’ll be waiting for you.” I lean down to kiss his cheek before hustling ahead of him to the waiting vehicle.

I brace for my exit from the lobby. Logan’s driver sees me and stands waiting with the door open. As soon as I emerge from the hospital, I duck my head against the throng.

Some people call my name and cheer, but others boo and yell at me. I’ve never had people vocally dislike me this way, and it’s a shock. It hits me hard every time, twisting my stomach and making me want to hide.

I’m a nonstop topic of discussion with some people saying I’m a real person, just what he needs. Others say I’m a gold digger or at the least, a distraction. Since his injury, a new group has emerged, blaming me for what happened.

They point to the replay where he looks up at me after the catch, just before he gets hit, as proof I distracted him. Like I’d want him to be hurt that way. Like I’d want his career to be cut short.

Those shouts hurt the worst. My heart hammers in my chest as I reach for Fred’s hand. He helps me into the black SUV, and as soon as I’m inside, I go to the very back doing my best not to cry.

Logan gets so angry about all of it, and he’s got enough on his mind right now. He hasn’t said much about how he feels, and I know from personal experience, he’s still processing this injury and what it means.

When I broke my foot, it wasn’t until the day I was supposed to return to ballet practice that it hit me. When I realized I wouldn’t go anymore. Ever again.

Then it all came crashing down at once. It was a painful, black day, and I’m ready to hold his hand through it.

I know from watching my brother Zane, the men think they have to be strong all the time and never show their emotions, but I’m hopeful.

Logan and I started our relationship sharing our hurts and dreams and disappointments. It’s how we grew close in the early days. I’ll be here when he’s ready to talk.

I hate that I have to go home tomorrow. I took an extra week off school to be here for him until the doctors released him, but Christmas is coming. I have the school show, Mia and Austin have been working hard, and I can’t abandon them as much as I want to be here for Logan.

Cheers and clapping break out, and I know it means Garrett is bringing him out of the hospital in the wheelchair.

The look on Logan’s face tells me all I need to know about how he feels about being wheeled out in front of all these onlookers. He hates it.

“Easy…” Garrett locks the brakes as he tries to stand.

Logan’s not as big as my brother, but at six-foot-two, two hundred pounds, he’s not easy to manage.

I get on my knees inside the vehicle holding out my hand. “Can I help?”

“It’s okay.” Logan’s face is red from exertion.

He’s not as strong as he’s used to being, and I see the anger rising in his chest. I move back to my seat to give him space.

I hear my name yelled, but I block it out. This isn’t about me. It’s about him and making his transition as easy as possible.

Finally, the door slams and Garrett falls hard into his seat. “I’m going to pop one of those motherfuckers if I hear another word about Dylan.”

The muscle in Logan’s jaw moves, and my heart hurts. I feel like I’m causing him even more stress than he needs.

“It’s okay.” I lean forward in my chair. “I don’t care about them.”

“I do,” Garrett grouses, shifting in his seat. “Assholes.”

I place my hand lightly on Logan’s shoulder. “The team hired a nurse to check on you. I know Garrett will be there, but if you need something, you can give her a call.”

Blue eyes flash to mine, and he frowns. “Where will you be?”

“I have to get back to Newhope.” I blink rapidly. “I have my classes, the restaurant…”

“Right. Of course.” He looks down, and guilt floods my chest.

My cheeks grow hot, and I look at Garrett in a panic. He gives me a subtle wink and nods like it’ll be okay. Only, I know what’s coming for Logan, and the last thing I want is to leave him alone—even if he’ll eventually recover. He’s lost the best season of his career.

“Maybe you can come for Christmas? We’d love to have you.”

He doesn’t speak, and I swallow the knot in my throat. I’d drop everything and stay here with him if I could, but people are counting on me. I can’t let Mia down.

Back at his apartment, he watches quietly as I pack my clothes into my suitcase. Outside it’s gray and rainy, and I wish I could think of something encouraging to say.

“I’m sorry I asked you to come here.” His voice is quiet, and my heart falls.

I do my best to keep my voice even. “You are?”

I imagine him doing what Zane did, building a wall and shutting us out. Don’t push me away, Logan…

“I watched the replay. It was pretty bad.” His tone is grave. “It was everything you told me you never wanted to see, and I asked you to come and have a front-row seat to your worst nightmare.”

Dropping the dress I’m holding, I rush over to where he’s sitting. I kneel beside him, taking both of his hands in mine.

“Yes, it was horrifying to see you hurt. It was my worst fear realized, and I almost broke when you didn’t get up…” My heart races in my chest, and my thoughts jam together in my mind. I take a slow breath to calm myself before continuing. “But it would’ve been a million times worse if I’d been at home. Here, I could hold your hand and be by your side. Being here for you is the most important thing to me.”

Reaching out, he puts his hands on my shoulders, pulling me to him. I rise onto my knees to hug him, and I’m surrounded by citrus and cedar and his warm, hard body.

I tighten my arms around his neck, nestling my face against his, and with a deep exhale, his muscles relax. My heart breaks, and heat floods my eyes. For several moments, we simply hold each other. Our hearts beat in time, and I thread my fingers in his soft hair.

Turning my face, I kiss the side of his jaw, and his arms relax, allowing me to sit back on my feet. Holding his hands, I look up at him and smile.

He reaches down to trace the hair off my cheek. “I’d like to go back with you to Newhope, if that’s okay?”

My heart squeezes, and I nod. “I would love that.”