This Is Love (Evermore University #2)

1. Jaxon

1

JAXON

The intense panic crashing through me is horrifically mirrored in Logan’s light-colored eyes and the anguish in his expression races through my system in equal measure. No matter what we think about each other, two things are obvious: We both care about Rya. And we’re both scared shitless.

My chest is heavy as I watch my stepbrother lightly pat her cheek and murmur in low tones, trying his damnedest to rouse her. It’s futile. She’s clearly been drugged out of her fucking mind. How the fuck? She’s pale, clammy, and unresponsive. Frustrated as hell, but knowing we can’t handle this on our own, I numbly dial 911, then put the phone on speaker and set it on the counter.

When I checked the long column of her throat for a pulse, I’d been unsure if there’d be one. But there is. And she’s breathing on her own, albeit shallowly.

An emergency dispatcher picks up right away. “911, what’s your emergency?”

I roughly clear my throat. “We’re in the basement of Tri-Beta on Evermore’s campus. Our friend has been drugged. We need some help.”

The conversation I have with the emergency dispatcher passes in a blur. To her credit, the woman on the other end of the call is calm as she asks me a battery of questions, but it does nothing to soothe my nerves—not even when she relays there’s an ambulance on the way. Every second that passes with Rya unconscious between us causes the torment inside me to rise, and I only barely stop myself from lashing out at Logan.

My eyes crash shut for a moment. He’s done fucking nothing wrong… except call me out on my bullshit right before we found Rya. I grit my teeth. The truth that I’ve buried deep is simply this: I know I was acting like a complete d-bag. There are so many hard, horrible feelings between Logan and me, I don’t know if that’ll ever change.

I exhale harshly and open my eyes, staring woodenly at Logan as my lungs constrict, almost as if they refuse to take in more air until this girl who’s dug under my skin awakens. And even though my biggest concern in this awful, gut-wrenching moment is Rya, I can’t stop the sick slideshow of my actions this evening from spinning through my head. He’d better keep his fucking mouth shut.

Unsure how to stop the chaos in my head from bubbling out, I choose to focus on Rya… but somehow, I can’t stop myself from watching Logan’s anxious movements as he slowly loses his mind with worry. His jaw clenches as he leans over her, gently stroking her cheek. The breath that blows past his lips is ragged. Tortured. And Rya—she’s so fucking quiet. Unmoving. There’s none of the sweet laughter I’ve become accustomed to hearing from her. None of the soft smiles. The absence of the girl I’m falling for cleaves my dark heart right in two.

Logan tugs on the back of his neck, his chest jerking. He’s gonna lose it in a second, I feel it deep inside, the waves of distress and misery rolling off him and slamming into me. Swallowing hard, he gathers her to him before outright begging, “Please, Rya. Open your eyes. Please be okay.” His hands shake as he runs them over her body, ending with a gentle touch at her hairline where blood trickles from a wound. It’s anyone’s guess how that happened, and I really fucking doubt she’ll be able to tell us.

My freshman year, they made us attend this awful seminar. It’d been centered around this exact scenario—what to do after a suspected drugging, signs to look for, and suggestions for how to prevent it from happening in the first place. The university had provided the training in response to a rash of girls being roofied at an end-of-the-year celebration the previous year. Apparently, the seminar had been for show, though, because I didn’t hear about them repeating it for this year’s incoming freshman class.

I blow out a breath. One of the things I’d picked up on was that often these types of drugs cause a blackout of sorts. The victim most often doesn’t recollect anything. It’s scary as fuck. They can lose hours of time that they can’t account for, even if they were semiconscious, walked themselves home, et cetera. The idea of someone doing this to Rya makes me feel violently ill. I want to vomit up the sour thoughts that fester inside me as my gut clenches and my heart twists.

“I’m going to fucking kill whoever did this,” I grind out, my jaw clenching hard enough I imagine my teeth cracking with the pressure.

“Don’t do anything you’ll regret, sir.” The dispatcher’s no-nonsense voice cuts through the air, jolting me from the wild ruminations in my head.

I bite back an oath, but all there is to do is wait and try not to fall apart. Another quick assessment of Logan tells me he’s rapidly spiraling, head bowed. The seconds pass so fucking slowly while anguished cries rip through my head. My throat feels thick, like I’ve swallowed gelatinous goop, but I swallow it down. “She’s gonna be okay.”

Slowly, he lifts his head, pinning hard eyes on me. “You don’t know that.” There’s an ache in his voice that makes me wince.

“Logan. You can’t fucking think like that,” I bite out, giving a swift jerk of my head. It’s all I manage before the wail of sirens rips through the night, easily audible, even from the basement.

There’s a commotion from the main floor of the frat house, and I work my jaw to the side. There’s no way Logan is leaving her side, so I force myself up off the floor, then race from the end of the hall to the foot of the staircase as the door above swings open. I hold up a hand, gesturing to them. “Down here.”

The emergency responders begin their cautious descent with a gurney and other equipment slung over their backs while Trip shouts at me from above. “What the fuck, man?”

The harsh look I shoot him shuts him right up. I stalk back to the bathroom only to find I can no longer see a damn thing because there are too many bodies in the room. I hover just outside the door as they shoot one question after another at Logan.

“How long has she been like this?”

“Was anyone with her?”

“How much did she have to drink?”

Logan’s eyes crash shut, but in his frustration, he grits out, “Two shots. That’s it. She’s not just drunk.”

I clear my throat, gaining their attention. “It might have been as much as fifteen minutes or more. There was a lot going on, a lot of people down here, and we aren’t sure when she went missing, but we found her only thirty seconds before we called.”

One of the responders, as he’s checking vitals, glances at the other with a curt nod. “Call came in eight minutes ago.”

Has it really only been minutes ? The wait for them had felt like a fucking eternity. I roughly jam my fingers into my hair, pushing it back while they check her over, ultimately deciding they need to get her on the gurney. Fuck. I watch their hurried yet competent movements through a daze. Logan is the same, still kneeling on the floor of the bathroom as they lift Rya’s limp body and move her so they can exit.

A hand on my shoulder has me pivoting on my heel. Trip gets right in my face, delivering another What the fucking hell, man? without words that has me shoving him backward. “Get the fuck out of our way,” I growl as the responders shift to get past. “This was your party. You’ll be lucky if this doesn’t come down on your head.” I don’t bother waiting to see what his response is before I turn and follow Logan as he jogs up the stairs behind the stretcher with Rya’s unconscious body strapped to it.

At the top of the steps, thank fuck there are people in their right minds to keep those who still think this is a party—and we’re the entertainment—at bay.

The emergency responders burst through the front door, greeted by the harsh flash of lights and a good deal of commotion as people who weren’t inside the Tri-Beta house have stopped on their way to wherever they were going at this hour. Logan and I charge down the steps behind them, the heavy breath we exhale coming out in puffs of chilled air, the cold like a slap in the face. It’s needed to combat the effect of the alcohol I’ve consumed—or maybe to dispel the fucking fear. Either way, as much as something in me registers the temperature has slipped below freezing tonight, I don’t feel it much.

At the back of the ambulance, the gurney is popped up to full height so they can load it. The bottom folds up, and the woman who seems to be in charge turns quickly as she closes one of the doors, obscuring Rya from my view. “One of you can come with her. We’ll be leaving in just a few minutes.”

“Do we need to stay and speak to anyone?” Logan questions as he eyes a patrol car that’s just pulled up.

“They’ll find you if they want to talk to you.”

I exhale harshly as she and the other personnel arrange Rya in the back, and I choose that moment to weave on my feet. Logan searches my face, then gruffly, he murmurs, “I want to go with her. And I know you probably couldn’t care less and don’t give two shits about me, but I really need to.”

My gaze narrows on him. “I’ll be there, too.”

“Not enough room for both of us, man.” He shakes his head.

I heave out a breath. Blink. The vodka is hitting hard. Definitely too drunk to get behind the wheel. Digging into my pocket, I wrap my fingers around my key ring. “I’ll drive, then.” It’s a test of sorts. I have no intention of driving.

And as I kinda expected, Logan’s reaction is swift. He cocks his head to the side before stepping close. “The fuck you will.”

I snort at the demand in his tone, getting right in his face. “Says who?”

Angry eyes dart over my features as he hisses, “Says the six shots you consumed in the last hour. You can either Uber on your own, or I’ll come with you if you’re gonna be a dick about it. I’d rather be with Rya, but let’s be clear: You aren’t driving. No fucking way.”

My lips curl into a smirk. “Aw, little bro. You do care about me, don’t you?”

“Fuck off, Jax. Quit messing with me.” He shoots a harsh glare my way. “Just use the winnings to cover the ride. That way maybe I can forgive myself for letting this happen to her while we—” The rest of whatever he was going to say catches in his throat as those pale-blue eyes slam shut.

Good . I’m getting to him. But the fact that I understand how shitty he feels for letting this happen to Rya? It irritates the fuck out of me. Not because he’s a pussy or wrong, but because I get it. Steeling my jaw against the truth, I grit out, “Calm the fuck down.”

Logan runs his hand down his face, exasperation flowing freely from him. “Don’t be like that. Fuck , man.”

Before I can fire back a cheeky retort, the responder barks, “Gotta go,” looking pointedly at Logan. “Are you riding with us?”

He wets his lips, focusing on her. A heavy breath billows from him. “Yes.” Spinning on his heel, he climbs into the back of the ambulance.

“Logan,” I bite out, his name falling gritty off my tongue. He pivots, and I pitch my keys at him. Catching them, he glares at me as I growl, “I’ll meet you there.”

He doesn’t get a chance to respond as the ambulance doors slam shut. It’s for the best that I can’t see him or the sweet girl lying unconscious inside. Maybe now I can get my fucking brain in gear. Slowly shaking my head, I pull out my phone and send a message to the university group that provides free rides to students.

Within minutes of my request, a small SUV pulls up, and I slip into the passenger seat.

“So… to the hospital?” The guy peers at me from behind the wheel. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” I grunt, “but go as fast as you can manage.”

“You got it.” He hits the gas, and his SUV lurches forward.

Turning my head to stare out the window, I purposely avoid making eye contact. I hope this fucker doesn’t try to engage me in conversation, because I’m not in the mood for small talk and definitely not about to spill my guts to some guy I don’t know.

The trip takes way too fucking long. The ambulance had taken off like a shot, lights flashing in the dark night, horn honking intermittently so other vehicles would make way for it. We don’t have that luxury. The seconds tick by so slowly, giving me the opportunity to think.

And tonight? That’s a very bad fucking thing.

First and foremost, I’m sick at the thought that someone tried to hurt Rya. That anguished worry, unfortunately, leads my intoxicated brain to what had made Logan practically break down—the fact that he was sucking my dick while Rya was passed out from having been drugged. I was deep in a haze of drink and greed and pleasure in that fucking closet with Logan.

I’m caught up in the guilt of it, no matter what I try to tell myself. If I had let Rya play the damn game, she’d have been with Logan. Maybe some of this would never have happened. Instead, I flipped the script and went in there with him, and once we were alone, I’d been hell-bent on fucking with his head. At least that’s what I keep telling myself because I don’t know if it’s better or worse that I was too carried away by what we were doing to even think about Rya.

I wasn’t there to help her, and she’d been vulnerable. Passed out on the dirty floor of a frat house bathroom. My stomach pitches, and I taste bile at the back of my throat as it surges upward, seeking escape.

I allow those agonizing thoughts—along with a sense of frustration as to how this happened—to tick around in my mind before all of it evolves into even more worries. Bracing an elbow on the SUV’s door, I rub a hand roughly over my face. What was I thinking? I told everyone at the party that I let Logan blow me. Who knows what people are thinking now. Not that I give a fuck, because I do believe it’d been an effective slap at my stepbrother. But I really don’t need knowledge of my drunken shenanigans getting around. And I especially don’t need my father catching wind of it. Fuck . That was fucking stupid .

A tormented, savage breath rattles from my lungs. The reality is, in that moment, I couldn’t help myself. I fucking wanted it. Wanted him . My face burns with the memory of my cock deep in his throat and those blue eyes seeking mine out in the dark. I can fucking tell myself it was about the money if that’ll help me sleep at night. But that wasn’t it. Not at all.

Convenient fucking excuse.

I’m going to make him pay for messing with my fucking head so thoroughly.

I give myself an internal shake as my driver pulls up to the ER entrance. Pushing open the door, I give him a gruff thank you as I unfold myself from the seat and bail out of the car, then slam the door shut behind me.

One last thing pops into my head as I stride toward the entrance. Logan and his best friend are somewhere inside. Guilt crashes down on me again. I don’t have a fucking clue how to explain tonight’s bizarre hookup to Rya—and there’s zero doubt in my mind that at some point she’ll become aware of what transpired between Logan and me. She will find out.

Logan and I have launched a cannonball at her. But which of us will it take down?