This Is Love (Evermore University #2)

2. Logan

2

LOGAN

I’m beyond annoyed. The hospital staff wouldn’t let me stay with Rya, and I don’t know why. The only reason I can come up with is that I’m not family, and she’s unconscious and unable to consent to me being present while she’s examined. Okay, fine. Maybe that’s normal. I don’t fucking know.

When they ushered me away, there was a part of me that’d wanted to fight, to tear free of the hands guiding me toward the waiting room and race back to Rya. As it was, I already left my heart there on the gurney beside her. My mind threatens to slip into disturbing thoughts of codes being called and personnel rushing toward my girl. All the things that could go wrong. I assume she was given a drug of some sort at the party. But how the fuck?

I scrub my hands over my face, frustration and worry crashing down on me. I’d watched the entire way over as she was monitored, hooked up to all sorts of equipment that I’m clueless about. Even though the responders obviously knew what they were doing, it’d given me no comfort. That won’t come until Rya opens her eyes and lets me know with words from her own lips that she’s going to be okay.

Heaving out an unsettled breath, I brace my forearms on my knees and hunch over, knowing I’m drawing attention with my heartache and misery. Unseeing, I stare at my phone as I make a valiant attempt not to completely lose it. Just then, it vibrates in my hand.

It takes me a second to focus on the device, and when I’m finally able to blink back the emotion rioting through me, I see a text from Levi. For a moment, I was certain it’d be from Jaxon, claiming his ultimate vengeance on me, revealing he’d done this to Rya as a final farewell kiss-off.

Expelling a long breath, I tap on the notification to read the text from my roommate.

Hey. I saw you get into an ambo with Rya.

She okay?

What the fuck happened?

We don’t really know.

She’s been… drugged, I guess.

The fuck.

Seriously?

Yes, seriously. I blow out a breath, attempting to shake off the agitation filling me. I know Levi isn’t really questioning what I’m saying. If his disbelief is half what mine is, his response is understandable.

Oh, fuck. Okay.

I got Hazel back to the dorm and was kinda waiting up.

Didn’t know if you’d need to talk.

About?

Are you fucking kidding me?

You and Jaxon and the chaotic noise between you.

And apparently one hell of a blowie?

You should go the fuck to bed.

You’re always griping about your beauty sleep.

My heart beats steadily in my ears. I guess I should expect all kinds of speculation about what really happened in that closet, but I’m in no place to discuss the all-out war that’s developed with my stepbrother. There’s no way I’m talking to anyone about this right now. Can’t focus on anything but Rya.

Look, I’m fucking flipping out.

Will text later when I have an update.

I hear you.

Tell Twinkle Toes she’d better fucking be okay.

Logan? Wake me if you need to.

I don’t respond to that last message, because there’s this yawning chasm before me and I’m too busy falling off the cliff, knowing what Levi meant with his final words. If things go to shit and I need him, call.

Footsteps approach the waiting area. I guess I must have missed the whoosh of the ER doors sliding open since I’m too busy wallowing in worry for Rya to care and sick at the idea that this happened to her on my watch. Her dad made me promise to look out for her. He’s overprotective when it comes to the women in his family. I’ve earned his trust over the last year and a half, never causing Rya a single fucking tear. And now, his daughter is lying alone somewhere in this hospital. I might not have escorted her to that fucking party, but I was there.

Fuck. I’ve fucked this all up.

“Where is she?” Jaxon’s usually smooth voice is hoarse, and when I lift my gaze to his, I can honestly say he looks like shit. “Why aren’t you with her?” The shift to a more accusatory tone has me snapping to attention.

He actually showed up. I hadn’t been positive he’d follow through. There’s a part of me that’s sure I don’t understand the motive behind any damn thing he does. I eye him, wetting my lips. It’s difficult not to take joy in the way he’s fidgeting in place, his spine ramrod straight. Slowly shaking my head, I shrug. “They wouldn’t let me stay with her. A no-nonsense nurse named Jennifer strong-armed me outta there.” I rub my bicep where her grip is imprinted on my arm. To be fair, I kinda forced her hand. I’ll find her and apologize for being a dick later.

Jaxon’s jaw works to the side, and finally he huffs out a breath and takes a seat in the uncomfortable plastic chair across from me. He sits there for a long moment, simply staring daggers at me.

I don’t know what his fucking problem is. I was an idiot to let my dick take the lead tonight. My head jerks to the side as I tear my gaze from his. Shouldn’t have let him play me again. He’s fucking using it against me that he knows I’ll get hard for him. Is it a “love to hate him” kind of situation? For him? For me? Don’t even fucking know. But I’ve gotta get it in check on my end and fast. Because really, it meant nothing for him to come out of that closet and admit I gave him head. What did he care who was sucking his dick so long as it was going into a warm, wet mouth? My face flames, and my jaw locks up. He’s fucking winning this sick game he’s forced on me.

And Rya. She’s the prize.

I watch him from the corner of my eye while he sits across from me, anxious as hell. Maybe he does care for her. I doubt it, but I could be wrong. And when I look closer, I see an undercurrent of loathing just for me. Fucking fabulous. What I ever did to merit this level of hatred, I don’t fucking know.

My eyes wander his tense form, knowing that allowing myself to study him will only jack me up even more… but it’ll also piss him off, so, fuck it . I slide my tongue slowly over my bottom lip and watch how it attracts a narrowed gaze. He might have my number, but I have his, too. He’s curious. I’d never fault anyone for that, but I can sure as fuck be entertained by it.

The whole money thing, though? That’s not amusing, but I’m positive I’m right about it. This wasn’t the first time Jaxon’s done something devious to get his hands on some cash. In fact, I’d wager half the reason he hates me so fucking much might be because he’s afraid I’ll talk about the fat stack I saw him steal from the safe in his old man’s office. It was a long time ago, but maybe he’s still wigging out over it? Fucked if I know. Maybe he thinks I already mentioned it to Eric. Or that my plan was to taunt him forever with it. I slowly shake my head, considering. I don’t even fucking know how to have that conversation with him without it starting World War III.

The silent volley of antagonism back and forth between us is potent, that’s for fucking sure. Even when he’s dragged his gaze away from mine, I feel it, a powder keg of epic proportions just waiting for the strike of the right match to set us off. Jaxon runs a hand over his tight-as-fuck jaw, his gaze pointedly fixed on the industrial carpeting under our feet.

Interestingly though, haggard doesn’t begin to describe his features, and he draws in one ragged breath, then another before his head snaps up, casting his fiery stare at me. “Who would have done this? How? When? I was fucking there with her. Right up until?—”

The desperation in his voice knocks me sideways. Inside the hollow cavern of my chest, a vise squeezes, no matter that my heart is somewhere beyond the double doors with Rya. Frozen in place, I search Jaxon’s dark eyes, wondering at the agony lacing his words. He reaches up with both hands, fingers clawing at his scalp before grabbing fistfuls of hair and yanking hard. It’s got to hurt, but maybe that’s the point.

When I stop to think about it, it’s no different than the fury I’ve scrubbed over my face a million times since sitting down to wait. I draw in a deep breath, then exhale. “Yeah. I don’t have the answers to those questions. But don’t fucking remind me about the rest.”

He smirks for only a quick second, brushing off my comment before continuing his rant. “Whoever it was has some big-ass balls to do something like that with so many potential witnesses. How the fuck was she drugged without someone seeing it happen? Without anyone questioning? And how could somebody see her in distress and not do something? Call a fucking end to the goddamn game, for fuck’s sake.”

On one hand, if that’d happened, everyone would have absolute proof that it wasn’t just me earning that fucking money in the closet. Fucker . But on the other hand, he’s right—maybe we would have gotten help for Rya that much faster. Or been able to figure out who the fuck was responsible.

I throw out a hand, unable to withhold my exasperation. “Well, when we’re all required to take shot after shot and everyone’s fucking anxious about whether or not their name is going to get called and who they’ll be sent into one of the closets with… that could have something to do with it. And Trip had everyone’s attention directed toward his motherfucking little instruction cards from hell—” I jerk to a stop, my eyes pinning on Jaxon’s. “Just how well do you know this dickhead?”

He shrugs. “He’s your typical asshole frat boy. Thinks it’s funny to haze people who aren’t even part of his brotherhood. It’s been going on since before he was president. From what I’ve managed to figure out, it’s kinda become entertainment to the fraternity to watch freshmen figure out what they’re up to.”

“Yet, you were there. Twice. You’ve known what’s going on. Especially since you’re all buddy-fucking-buddy with Trip.”

Jaxon’s lips twitch, but I find it hard to read his expression. Narrowing his eyes on me, he grits out, “Trip owed me a favor. So when I saw you all go downstairs the night of Friend and a Fifth, I figured, why not. I didn’t know what I was getting into until you did.” He wets his lips, and I can’t tell whether he thinks this is some sort of an apology or an explanation or what. “But this last time around, we never intended to go in early. I promise I was simply helping Rya with a tipsy Hazel. But that girl, she took off like a shot. Who knew dancers could be so fucking fast.” Raking a hand through his hair, he sits back, appraising me, then folds his arms over his chest. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. But go ahead and believe whatever the fuck you want.”

I work my jaw to the side. He could be telling the truth. Hazel is a damn handful, that much I’m fully aware of. “Right. Well, forgive me if I’m having trouble believing you.” Jaxon so easily could have planned everything with Trip tonight, right down to the card we were given. I don’t trust him. Warmth born of indignation blooms in my chest. “I bet you knew what you were getting into tonight. Knew exactly what you were going to do.”

He casts a slick glance my way before rolling his shoulders back and closing his eyes for a moment. “If you don’t like the games Trip plays, why do you keep fucking going back?”

Dickhead. “Hasn’t ever been my choice. And trust me, if I could predict the future, I sure as fuck wouldn’t have let any of it happen. Life would be a lot simpler.” I flick disgusted eyes in his direction. “Especially not the second time. And not just because of Rya, asshole. Keep fucking with me, and I’ll make you regret it.”

Something flickers behind his eyes, but it’s gone before I can determine what it is. “I don’t do shit I regret. Except maybe I should have demanded that Trip let me leave with Rya before any of this went down. That I’ll accept responsibility for.” His gaze drops to my lips, homing in there for several long seconds. His chest jerks, and if I’m not mistaken, I know the path his mind has taken. Fucker is thinking about getting sucked off in that closet… because if they’d left the party, that never would have happened.

My lip curls as a throat clearing grabs our attention. “Were one of you here with Rya Monroe?”

There’s an odd sensation of my stomach plummeting at the same time I jolt to my feet. “That’s me.”

But I don’t know if she heard me because Jaxon’s “I’m here for Rya” is louder. Already out of the chair and taking a step toward her, he aims anxious eyes at the woman, a charming smile on his face. His head swivels toward me, that smoothness instantly dropping to be replaced by a sharp look and angry tilt of his mouth.

The woman’s eyes bounce between us, uncertainty slipping across her features. She’s in scrubs, so I’m assuming she’s a nurse. “Um. You can both come. But just in case there are more friends on the way, know that only two are allowed back with a patient at a time.”

“No one else is coming.” Jaxon shakes his head. “Not at this hour.”

Some of the hostility heavy in the air must be obvious to her because she squints at us before holding up a hand. “Be warned, she’s out of it still and not feeling well. But that’s to be expected. No loud voices back there. Nothing to upset her. She’s had a rough time of it since she gained consciousness.”

“Got it.” The words scrape from my throat, hoarse and horrified. This nurse is trying to prepare us for something, but I’m unsure what.

“Anyway, I assume one of you is Logan and the other must be Jaxon. She’s asked for both of you.”

At our nods, she pivots, beckoning for us to follow her through a set of double doors into the main part of the ER. It’s… sterile. A nurses’ station is situated in the center, and it’s set up on three sides with a row of curtained-off exam areas. At first, I think she’s taking us to one of those, so my brows dart together when she moves toward a hallway with individual rooms instead.

“She’s back here. We thought it wise to give her some privacy.” As we get to the end of the hall, the woman gives us a careful smile. “I’m Charlie, if you need anything.” She stops in front of a door, knocks gently, then pokes her head in. “Rya? I’ve got a couple worried guys out here. Can they come in to sit with you?”

“Logan and Jaxon?” Our names scratch up from her throat, sounding weak and tired. My chest constricts as Charlie pushes the door open farther.

The sight before me threatens to take me out. Rya lies in bed, pale and dazed, her eyes unfocused. The hospital gown dwarfs her slight frame, and she’s hooked up to an IV, receiving fluids and who knows what else.

“She’s been nauseated and drowsy,” Charlie says in a quiet voice. “Do you all know who she was with? Or have any idea what she was given or how it happened? The doctor ordered blood tests, and we managed a urine sample when she first got here.” Her lips press together as she glances first at us, then at Rya, whose eyelids have fluttered shut again.

I sweat as my mind begins to connect the dots between what little she’s telling us and the questions she’s asking in conjunction with the need for privacy and the testing. A sick feeling churns in my gut. I turn my head to see Jaxon’s reaction to the information the nurse has given us.

A certain uneasiness has fallen over his features. I can’t forget I’m pissed at him, but—my teeth grind together—he’s putting on a really good fucking act if he doesn’t share my concerns. “Sorry, do you mean…” Jaxon stops, biting his lower lip as he casts a wary gaze at me that slams into me with such force, I practically stumble backward.

Blinking hard, my world spins. When Rya had the hangover after the first party of the semester, I’d held a degree of concern about what happened while she was passed out… but now I know true terror. Slowly, I wrench the question from where it’s lodged in my throat. “Was she assaulted?”