Free FURY: A Rio Games Romance by Alison Ryan Page A

needed a lot of rest.
    Logan had day-dreamed in high school about her father coming to all her practices at Xavier and even all her away games, now that he was retired.
    But it wasn’t possible. As much as he wanted to do those things, he just couldn’t.
    And that made Logan angry. So angry that her play on the field, while still otherworldly, was filled with a fury and aggression that wasn’t customary to her. And it had been noticed by everyone, including her mother.

    * * *
    “ L ogan ,” Tracy Lowery had called her daughter after watching Logan get her first red card in her entire career, in a game against Ohio State. “We need to talk.”
    “If this is about the game, I don’t want to talk about it,” Logan replied. “I already got chewed out by Coach Hiddink.”
    “Logan Grace Lowery,” her mother said, and suddenly Logan knew her mother meant business.
    “Yes?” Logan said meekly.
    “I know you’re angry about what’s happening to Daddy,” Tracy said, trying to keep her voice from cracking. “And I don’t blame you a lick. I’m angry too. Life isn’t fair and your father doesn’t deserve what’s happening to him. The good Lord has His ways, I suppose, but I struggle to understand the purpose in the pain we have right now. And I know you struggle with it too, baby. And that kills me. I’m your momma, I’m supposed to be able to fix it. But Logan, I can’t fix this. I would if I could. I would take on the cancer myself…” Tracy was crying now. “But I can’t. And I’m so sorry, sweet girl. I’m sorry that you’re angry and that you don’t know what to do with that emotion because… we aren’t used to being angry people, Logan. And that’s because of your father. What’s there to be angry about when you have a man like him in your life?”
    They were both sobbing now, Logan shaking in her grief on the other end of the phone call.
    “Mom,” her voice shook. “I’m so sorry. That I let you down. That I let Dad down. I don’t know how to handle any of this. I wake up every morning praying it’s all a terrible dream or some kind of misunderstanding.”
    Tracy nodded, blowing her nose into a handkerchief. “I know. I feel the exact same way. I pray all the time for a miracle.”
    They were both quiet for a moment.
    “I promise,” Logan said. “No more red cards. I had a bad day. But it won’t happen again. Dad raised me better. You both did.”
    “You make me proud,” Tracy said. “Every day, Logan. And your dad too. Maybe come by this weekend and visit?”
    “For sure,” Logan said. They said their goodbyes and hung up.
    Logan lie on her bed for a long while, looking at the ceiling fan whirling above her.
    “I need to get out of here,” she said to herself. “I need to run.”

    * * *
    L ogan ran every day . In practice, in games, from one class to the next. It’s what she did, there was something in her blood that constantly urged her to move forward, to go .
    There was freedom in it. And she loved it, more than anything. So even at night, even after hours of practice and long days, her way of winding down was actually by moving quickly in one direction for at least an hour.
    She’d thrown on some Asics and a pair of old running shorts. The evenings in Cincinnati were getting cooler, but once she started going, she knew she’d warm up.
    Normally she ran alone, every now and then a teammate or a classmate would join her, which was okay. She preferred to be alone in her thoughts, listening to her feet hit the pavement, the rhythm and dance of it soothing to her ears. She wasn’t someone who ran with headphones or music blaring. She didn’t need that kind of motivation.
    She just loved running for the sake of it.
    That evening, she seemed to be alone in her endeavors. Which in this case, was a bummer since she would have loved to have fallen into a conversation with someone to distract her from the sadness brewing in her heart.
    But oh well. She began her pace,