8. Rya
8
RYA
“I’m so proud of you, Tiny Dancer,” Logan whispers, his face mere inches from mine. “No one would have blamed you if you totally lost it today. But you didn’t. You’re so fucking strong.”
I swallow hard, then shake my head. “I’m really not.”
During the exam, once most of the questions were over, I’d freaking locked myself inside my head as best I possibly could. They’d needed me to acknowledge that I understood each step of the process, but there were what seemed like interminable minutes during which I could either dwell on what they were doing and why or block it out. I’d chosen to think of anything else to get through.
It doesn’t feel like strength to have done that. I’d practically had a panic attack before allowing myself to go somewhere in my head where I didn’t have to think too much.
The quirk on Logan’s lips tells me he doesn’t agree with my internal assessment, even though I haven’t said any of that aloud… but he doesn’t know I almost hit the panic button and asked them to go get him. I was millimeters from surrendering to the voices screaming inside my head.
Thank goodness for the understanding nurses and a truly kind and compassionate doctor who were in the room with me. They’d helped me through the worst of it. And in the end, I’m glad I hadn’t asked Logan or Jaxon to be there. I don’t want them to know the intricacies of what happened in that exam room. And I couldn’t handle it if either of them looked at me differently. In fact, I’m terrified they will anyway.
A full-body shudder rolls through me, and Jaxon’s hand runs over my bicep, then lightly squeezes. It’s as if he knows I’m reliving something he has no clue about but wants to help all the same. “You handled it better than most people would have.”
“It could have been worse, I guess.” I allow an exhale to skitter from between my lips. “Not that I recall what went on in the minutes before you found me. We’ll never know…”
The wince on Logan’s face is telling. He’s already thought of that, and I’m sure Jaxon has, too, from the huffed sound behind me. The testing might say I wasn’t raped, but we may not ever truly know exactly what happened to me. Whether someone touched me or what their plan was or how I hit my head. It’s too much to process while I desperately need these two here with me to hold me together. My chest clenches, and all I can concentrate on is not flying apart into a million tiny pieces of despair.
I need this closeness. And I need it with both of them. There’s a solid wall of muscle on either side of me. Protected. Cherished. Safe . The heat of their bodies provides comfort on a night when I should feel anything but comfortable. My gaze traces Logan’s face while Jaxon’s warm breath fans over my cheek. I believe these two would do most anything for me. They proved that tonight by the way they took charge of the situation and looked after me.
Each stayed when they had perfectly good reasons to walk away.
Jaxon… we’re still so new. We’re only just getting to know each other. I like him a lot, but I have no idea how to handle the emerging feelings I have for him when the one I’ve always wanted is right here with me, too.
I’ve come to realize I’ll never not want Logan. As I lie next to him, it hits me hard all over again how shitty I’ve been to him. I took everything we had and disregarded it. Because why? It makes no sense. All of a sudden, my fantasy came to life and… I’d been too scared to reach out and grab it, too shocked that I didn’t know Logan as well as I thought I did. We could have had everything. Holding in my emotions is so painful, my chest burns with it.
Swallowing hard, my fingers clamp reflexively on Logan’s waist. Exhaling hard, I shake my head at the thoughts raging through my mind. I couldn’t sleep if I tried, even though by all rights, I should be beyond exhausted.
“You okay?” Jaxon questions from behind me, his voice husky.
Logan shifts on the pillow. “Do you want to talk?”
I’m still reeling, overwhelmed that Logan and Jaxon have overlooked their grievances with each other—mostly, anyway—to take care of me. It’s so unusual for them, I want to savor every second of it because it can’t possibly last. Yet, here we are, all of us sharing a bed. It’s so freaking weird I almost can’t comprehend it.
Exasperated that I’m unable to simply settle and allow us to sleep, I draw in an unsteady breath. “I keep trying to remember any thing at all. It’s the most fucked-up feeling. But…” I hesitate, unsure if I should bring up the first time I woke up in Jaxon’s bed.
Logan eyes Jaxon, and I don’t claim to know what passes between them, but with a nod, he murmurs, “You can tell us anything.” Knowing me like he does, my best friend doesn’t say a word but lifts a hand, carefully tracing his fingertip over my eyebrows. “No one expects you to remember, honestly. But what were you going to say? There was something else.”
I chew on my lip, sensing Logan’s eyes on me, even though I’m staring somewhere in the vicinity of his Adam’s apple. I’m trying not to let my lack of memory upset me, but it’s difficult at best. “Um. I was going to say this is very different from drunk. When I woke up—here—before, I didn’t remember things after I passed out, obviously. But this isn’t—” A rush of air erupts from me as my chest constricts. “It-it’s not the same,” I finish lamely. “It’s scary.”
Jaxon slides his hand down my arm, then loops it around my waist. He shifts closer, lending me his strength. “No? How’s it different?”
I blink, trying to control a fresh rush of emotion that threatens to swamp me. “We don’t have to talk about it.”
Logan gently grips my chin with a few fingers. “We’ll do whatever you need to for as long as it takes to make you feel better… or until you fall asleep. Now”—he applies gentle pressure, tipping my face up to his—“go ahead and tell us what you mean. Get it out.”
A few moments go by, and during that time, I’m very aware they’re both waiting for an explanation. “It’s hard to pinpoint, except… well, it’s mostly different because I remember getting drunk the night of Friend and a Fifth. I remember going to the party, and I can recall getting paired with you, Jaxon.” I shift, finding Jaxon’s curious eyes on me. “I retained the memories of things we laughed about and stuff that happened before I passed out, you know?” My face heats as flashes of me sitting on a bathroom counter while Jaxon kissed my neck and cupped my breasts surface even now. “But this . This was different. I think the last thing I actually remember is watching Hazel run into Tri-Beta.”
“Like a black hole in your memory,” Jaxon murmurs. His eyes connect with Logan’s. “That’s really fucking freaky.”
Logan clears his throat. “Agreed.”
Something about the way they’re looking at each other makes me think this has already come up. My fingers clamp down reflexively on Logan’s waist without really realizing I’m doing it before his muscles twitch under his skin. Ugh . I have to get my mind on something else. Or just sleep. I close my eyes, and the room is quiet for well over a minute before a jumble of words spill from my lips. “Earlier. Hazel and me in the closet. So weird. Did either of you?” I’m in such a state that my train of thought is practically incoherent to me, let alone anyone else.
Wincing, I manage to open my eyes enough to see Logan blink, confusion marring his features. “Did either of us what, baby?”
At his sleepy question, Jaxon groans, then I swear a quietly muttered, “Here we go,” passes his lips.
My brow furrows, and I twist around to look at Jaxon. Why am I not following half the conversation? Before I can comment, a yawn pulls at me, and I surrender to it, my eyes drooping closed again for several seconds. “Seven Minutes in Hell. Tell me more.”
Silence descends for so long I swear I must be drifting in and out. “You said I kissed Hazel,” I mumble as I burrow into the pillows, the warmth of our bodies in this bed making me insanely drowsy, even though I want to know more about the time I lost.
“Go to sleep, pretty girl,” Jaxon whispers. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
I shift slightly, exhaustion slamming into me as I peek over my shoulder at Jaxon with one eye half open. He presses his lips to my temple. Rolling back toward Logan, I watch him through the fringe of my lashes, his blue eyes intense as can be at close range.
“You’ll have to ask Hazel about what the two of you actually did,” Logan says, his voice soothing and low.
My brain is not firing on all cylinders anymore, but I try once more as I hover on the edge of oblivion. “Did either of you end up in the closet?”
More quiet moments tick by, robbing me of awareness.
Logan makes an odd sound I can’t decode. My brain feels like it’s slogging through molasses as I fight to stay awake. There’s something about the way they’re answering me that’s… off.
“Yeah,” Jaxon whispers, his voice so low I wonder if I’m making it up or if I’m already asleep and dreaming. “You actually got called a second time, and I went in your place.”
His words register, and I manage to mumble, “Who got picked to go in with you?” Some really happy girl, I’m sure. I simply can’t keep my eyes open a moment longer, and as I tumble into blissful sleep, I could swear Jaxon chuckles.