Chapter Text
Logan
This summer has been intense. Growing up, summer always felt like being on a ship that was bound to sink. The summer mom left, I knew I was drowning in a sea of booze. If I didn’t steer the ship, my father would have let us die without even realizing. My body’s on autopilot, while my mind keeps replaying what happened with Grace. I feel guilty about how things ended between us. I’d be lying if I didn't secretly hope that she would at least text me back about her friend, Ramona. Ramona sending me that message was completely out of line and I felt like I had a right to tell Grace. Except, I don’t know if I made it better or worse. Regardless, I have a plan to try and get her back. My initial plan of forgetting the situation ever happened lasted all of two seconds. My brain betrays me by reminding me that Grace hates me every chance I get.
Unfortunately for me, I don't get to escape into a place of happiness. No summers in the Hamptons or vacation in Nantucket. I’m stuck in Munsen at my family’s garage, Logan and Sons. My personal hell if you ask me. Luckily, my father hasn’t given me too much shit this summer. When I left for Briar University, he reminded me to come visit him. I guess you have to be sober long enough to realize your kid hasn’t come to see you. I bite my tongue and try to keep the arguing to a minimum. Getting in and getting out is what keeps me going. For now. I know eventually I’ll be stuck back here and eventually turn into my dad because I gave up my life for him.
Outside of hockey, I made a habit out of fixing things ever since I was kid. Helping the neighbors with their cars, fixing bikes, and putting things together was my way of making extra money. Also, the girls at school always wanted me to fix something so I guess you could say it got me pussy too. I hate to be cocky but I do look pretty good in overalls. Especially since I grew my hair in a greaser type of way that fell right below my shoulders and put more time in the gym to get right for the hockey season. As long as my father isn’t nagging me. Working on a car in the shop while blasting classic rock is an ideal version of relaxation. The feeling I get from working with my hands isn’t just with cars, it's with hockey too. I miss the feeling of being at practice already. Dinners and drinks with the team. Parties. Girls. Grace.
I stalk Grace’s instagram during my lunch break, it’s fucking pathetic. I’m fucking pathetic. I never intended for any of this to happen. My older brother, Jeff, strides into the house with a big ass grin slapped across his face. Kylie, his longtime girlfriend, follows behind shortly after. I can hear him trying to engage in conversation, but I am full blown investigating. Jeff slides around the table to take a peak at what has caught my attention. I draw my phone close to my chest to prevent him from seeing the contents.
“Johnny, don’t tell me you gotta girlfriend,” Jeff teases me.
“John Logan! Do you have a girlfriend?” Kylie squeals with excitement. Her dirty brown hair is just as expressive as she is as it moves from side to side as she speaks. Kylie is basically like an older sister to me, I have no problem telling her about Grace. The problem is I would have to tell Jeff too. My brother and I are quite similar, at least people think we are. On paper, we are the same. The warmth of our sky blue eyes we inherited from our father and the same athletic six foot something build, but I’m not judgemental as Jeff. Our family is too dysfunctional for me to be judging people in the way he does. It never really stops him from doing it though. Coming clean to Jeff and Kylie is easier said than done but I would have to admit how there really isn’t much to tell. Grace isn’t my girlfriend. She has never been, but I’m determined for her to be. No sex, no kiss, just a guy who knocked on the wrong door and ended up catching feelings for this out of this world, outlandishly funny girl.
“It’s nothing. I mean- she’s just a girl from my Econ class last semester.” I brush it off and deflect on to the next topic. Kylie gives me a suspicious look like she might grill me for more information later. She lets it go for the time being.
That night after my shower I was basically dead weight. I dozed off mid putting on my pants and shot up out of my sleep at the sound of a loud crash downstairs. I clean the drool off my face, finish getting into my pants, and tuck myself into bed. That night I didn’t dream of Grace or any weird dreams. My brain played a montage of some of my favorite memories with my dad, all the things that I tried so hard not to cling to. I don’t know why, but for the night it brought me all the comfort I needed.