I finally got a good night of sleep last night after being on the road for eight days. I don't know what I'm going to do if Logan decides stays in Minnesota if and when I get called up. And not just because I can't sleep without her, but because I need her. I always need her. She's the other half to my whole.

She's had me worried sick about her all week. Something in my gut is telling me she's lying about being okay. I can feel it. She sounded perfectly normal on the phone whenever we spoke, but she would never answer my video calls. It's like she didn't want me to see her face or something. She always had an excuse as to why she couldn't answer. Not to mention that Marc and Ali confirmed my suspicions that Logan didn't seem like herself on multiple occasions this week. 

Something about this doctor's appointment she had yesterday isn't sitting right with me. Is that why she's been off all week? She said it was a routine check-up, but was that true? Is she afraid to tell me something is wrong? After her kidney, my second thought was that she could be pregnant and is afraid to tell me. Even though we always use protection, there's still that chance. Knowing how sure Logan is that she doesn't want kids, it would make sense why she hasn't been herself all week.

Then there's the thought that she's sad about her parents because it's the holidays. She was upset the day after Thanksgiving, but she hasn't brought them up since, and Logan is usually pretty cut and dry when it comes to that part of her past. I don't know what's going on yet. All I know is that after my game today, we are officially on winter break, so whatever is going on with her, we can work through it together.

I give one last lingering kiss to Logan's tattoo, trying not to wake her as I peel myself out of her bed. I would kiss her pretty lips, but her head is buried under a blanket at the moment. I need to get to the rink for pregame skate, and after Logan's week of finals, I'm sure she needs the extra rest. She was asleep last night when I came in, which I fully expected since it was so late, but even being able to have her in my arms after eight days makes me feel like myself again. Although, with that scout coming today, I wouldn't mind hearing Logan's soothing voice before I hit the ice, but I don't want to add any more of a burden onto her at the moment. I'd rather her get some rest. 

I write her a note, throw on my clothes, and give her shoulder a quick kiss before heading to the rink. 


During warmups, I've kept my eyes on the four seats behind our bench, but they remain empty. I figured that Logan and Marc would be here by now, but they're not. Maybe they're just running behind.

My eyes drift up a few rows, finding the Dallas Stars scout already in his seat. We had a good talk last night after my game. He told me that he could tell from my season's stats that the game he watched me play back in October against Penn State was a one-off. He let me know what his team was looking for and that he thought I could be the right addition, to which I quickly agreed. Dallas' offensive system plays right into my strengths, and it's a team I've had my eye on for quite some time if I was given a choice.

He also told me that they weren't going to be making any call-ups just yet. They are waiting until the trade deadline to see where their budget cap is at and what their playoff standings could look like. I understood, and if I'm being honest, I was relieved to hear it. It would give Logan and me a bit more time to figure out our game plan. The fact that he flew out to the midwest to watch a second game in a row is enough to assure me that I'm at the top of his radar. 

I watch as Marc sneaks into his seat right after the national anthem, but he's alone. As soon as starting lineup announcements are done, I quickly skate over, crawl over the player's bench and tap on the glass in front of him to get his attention. 


"Where's Logan?" I quickly ask my brother from behind the barrier. 

"She said she wasn't feeling well," he explains.

"What? What's going on?" I frantically ask.

"I'm not sure, man," Marc shrugs. "But you need to focus on this game. Logan will be fine," he tells me. 

"Did you see her?" 

"She wouldn't answer her door," he says, shaking his head. "I tried. She texted me to tell me she was sick and to go without her." 

"Marc, I need you to go back and check on her. Please. Something is going on," I urgently request of him, hearing the referee whistle at me, wanting to start the opening puck drop that I'm clearly absent from. 

"Maddison, let's go!" My coach yells at me, my back still to the ice, desperate eyes locked on my brother.