25. JAXON
25
JAXON
The Thursday morning drive to get to Briar Branch College that began before sunrise had been long and somewhat miserable. I should have known Coach Kimball would follow through on his threat, because true to his word, he’d forced Logan and me to sit side-by-fucking-side on the bus.
That alone would have been enough, but the jerk had also let us fucking dangle by not telling us who was pitching at today’s opener. It’s odd because we always, always have a schedule set up and are aware of whether or not we’re pitching well before the games happen so we can mentally prepare.
Now, whether Greyson, Travis, and Owen knew or not that it wasn’t going to be them, they didn’t say, but I have a sneaking suspicion Coach must have briefed them in advance since they seemed way too fucking relaxed the entire bus trip.
It’s my opinion that Coach simply refused to inform the two of us as some sort of fucking torture. Rude, but whatever. Doesn’t matter. Because when it came down to it, he chose me .
Logan only seemed mildly pissed about the decision, but (1) it’s not his choice, and (2) he’s a freshman. In fact, he’s damn lucky he got named as one of our starters and not a relief pitcher.
There’s a low-level buzz of irritation invading my brain, this asshole voice that whispers maybe Logan is simply that good. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch my stepbro where he’s standing at the opposite side of the dugout, just as far away from me as he can possibly get. I’ve had my eye on him during practices, and I’d stick my finger in my ear and scramble my brains before admitting to him that he’s come a long fucking way. Not that he wasn’t good the last time I saw him play. Fuck. I work my jaw to the side. Dickweed needs to stay the fuck outta my way. I’m doing really well right now, and I can’t afford for him to get me all twisted up anymore. The last thing I need is to fuck up what I have going.
Aggravated by my own thoughts, I return my gaze to Ruiz on the mound, the relief pitcher who’d stepped in to save my arm and close out the game for us. We’ve racked up a five-run lead. It’s the bottom of the ninth, and the home team has two runners on base. We need a third out, and the count for this hitter sits at two balls, two strikes. Come on, Ruiz. Get it fuckin’ done. If I were Manny, I’d be ticked that the new guy came in and has basically snatched one of the prime spots out of his hands.
Glancing back to Logan, I find his eyes on me and shoot him a smirk. He hasn’t said a fucking word about me jacking off on him in the shower. Probably liked it. And normally, I’d say whatever floats your boat, but it pisses me off that I was unaware of his preferences… maybe more so that it seemed like he was hiding it behind a convenient beard also known as Rya. I wasn’t fucking lying about my dad, either. For all I know, that’s why Logan has laid low about it.
Movement from the mound has me pulling my attention back to Ruiz as he winds up, sending a changeup across the plate that lands easily in Alexander’s glove. That’s it. My heart gives a lurch. The ump signals a strike. Game over. We win.
About an hour after the game finishes up, the call has been made to check into a hotel for the night. We’re three hours from Evermore U, so normally we’d head right back to campus, but the sky has decided to dump snow. Our bus pulls into the parking lot, and to be honest, I’m glad for it. I’m wiped out. My shoulder is sore, and I need a longer, hotter shower than we had time for before they shuffled us back to the bus. There are only two things I want more than that shower right now: to call Rya and go the fuck to sleep. That’s it.
My gaze flicks to the side where Logan sits with his eyes shut. Okay, and maybe I’d like to fuck with my stepbrother a bit. Like I noted earlier, he’s been quiet today, all things considered. The only thing I can figure is that he must have some heavy shit on his mind—more than simply not being the one chosen to pitch today.
I wet my lips, glancing at him from the corner of my eye. Can’t let him think I’m going soft on him. Or worse, that I’ve accepted his presence in my life again.
When the door opens, he’s out of his seat and grabbing his bag before it registers that the fucker must not have been asleep after all. Just ignoring me. I silently chuckle as I ease out of my seat, watching the back of him as he hustles down the steps to wait for the rest of the team outside the bus while getting wind-whipped by the storm. He couldn’t have moved any faster and must have decided the freezing cold and wet was better than being in the bus with me.
The entire team filters into the hotel lobby, stomping boots on the provided mats and shaking free of the snow collecting on our shoulders and in our hair. Most of us make ourselves comfortable on the couches while Coach gets us squared away with rooms. Only Logan remains standing. He’s bent over his phone, a deep V cut into his brow as his eyes scan whatever has him occupied. Wonder what that’s about.
I kinda want to ask him what went on last night. By the time I got back to campus from checking on Mom, the entire dorm was abuzz with the news someone’s room had been broken into. Then to find out it was Rya and Hazel’s room? Freaks me the fuck out that some dickwad messed with their shit. But even worse, it pisses me off that it was Logan who was there for Rya and not me. I wish I had known what was happening. Fucking pharmacy and all their red tape. Dammit .
The next few minutes are pure chaos as Coach Kimball and Coach Rexford hand out room keys. Slowly but surely, the team disperses in pairs, heading for the elevators and disappearing for the night.
I have no doubt as to what’s coming, especially when Coach turns to me, a gleam in his eye. “Jaxon. Logan. You’re obviously paired up, being family and all.” Almost as if he wants me to argue, he pins me with a stare. But I know better. I did well today, and I’m not fucking it up now. Besides, it won’t do any good to argue with him. He’s clearly hell-bent on teaching us a lesson.
I automatically seek out Logan and blink slowly at him, not bothering to hide the perturbed look I give him. He shoots a similar one right back at me. It almost makes me laugh, but I don’t dare let loose with it in front of Coach.
“Now, listen to me, you two. You’ll share a room, and I don’t want to hear that a good goddamn thing happened. You mess up the room with your special brand of brotherly brawling, and the expense of making it right with the hotel is on you.” His brows lift as his gaze shifts from Logan to me. “Got it?”
At our deadly silent nods, he slaps the key card into my palm, then walks away. As I stare at his back, I notice his shoulders bouncing with… laughter? What the fuck? What a dick . Coach is smart when it comes to baseball, but interpersonal relations are not his strong suit.
Logan releases a pent-up breath, gesturing to the bank of sleek elevators. “Could we get up to the room? I’m tired.” Part of me wants to tell him to fuck off and find somewhere else to sleep, but… no. I have some ideas how to make his night extra special.
My lips twist as I nod, beckoning him to follow me.
Inside the elevator, I study him, once again wondering why Rya didn’t text me to tell me what’d happened. I won’t fucking ask outright, no matter how curious I am. My jaw has tightened up to the point where it locks. Slowly but surely, I’m letting the unknown get to me. It’s going to eat me up inside until I talk to her and can assure myself all is well. There’s no reason for me to feel this jealousy, but I wish I could tell that to my head. I grind my teeth together. It’s more like I’m jealous of the time he got to spend with her.
I wet my lips. I don’t even really want her. Do I? My mood is getting darker by the second. What started as a way to steal Logan’s girl has morphed into something different, and I’m having trouble keeping up with all the twists and turns. There’s no denying it. I’m lying to myself—and I’ve gotta call her. I’ll feel better once I have.
When the car comes to a stop, the door smoothly slides open, and just as Logan goes to exit, I put my hand right in his face and shove him backward, then take off down the hall.
“The fuck, Jaxon.” My newly appointed roommate expels a harsh breath, glaring at me when he catches up .
I furrow my brow, putting on an air of fake confusion. “Oh, sorry, didn’t see you there.”
“Bullshit,” Logan grits out. “What’s your problem? You know, besides being a complete dick.”
Spinning around, I pull both of us to a full stop. The corner of my mouth itches to curve upward as I deadpan with a hand to my chest. “My problem? I’ll tell you what my current issue is if you promise to keep the fuck outta my way.” I raise my brows, waiting.
He rolls his eyes. “Okay, go ahead. Lay it on me. Seems like you’re acting like a little bitch despite the fact Coach put you in to start today. Not sure what you could possibly have jammed up your ass. You got what you wanted.”
“Easy, dickweed. I’m trying to ignore the fact that we’re stuck together until we get back to campus. Make sense now? I’d rather take a fastball to the nuts.”
To my consternation, Logan laughs. “That’s a lie, but whatever. What’s the room number? I’m about to drop.”
He does look like shit, I’ll give him that. All that time spent comforting Rya must have been so fucking rough. “Room 315,” I growl. “You’re acting like you were the one pitching eight innings today. Too bad for you, that’s wishful thinking.”
He rolls his eyes as he stops in front of our door, readjusting his bag over his shoulder. “I was up half the night,” he mumbles.
My brow hitches up before I narrow my eyes at the back of his head. “With Rya.” It’s not even a question. I already know because Hazel filled me in when I finally returned to the dorm.
He nods as he turns around to face me. “Yeah. She was pretty upset.” His jaw is tense, a muscle jumping at the back of it.
No matter what I think of Logan, Rya being upset makes my lungs claw for air. I suppose that’s proof I do care about her. Hopefully, in a few minutes I can check in with her and put my worries to rest on that front. If I ever find out who the fuck did that to their room, I’ll kick their asses. I frown, not liking the fact that Logan’s eyes carry the same heat mine do.
He wets his lips. “Whoever did it has balls, because I will put my fist through their face if I find out who it was.”
The fact that we’re on the same wavelength doesn’t stop the tumble of sharp, angry emotion that barrels into me at full speed. Jealousy rears its head again as I reach forward to tap the card against the reader at the door. When the lock disengages, Logan pushes it open and walks in like everything he says about Rya isn’t meant to piss me off. I aim twin lasers at the back of his skull. He said it so matter-of-factly. Like she’s his to protect. Well, he’s going to learn a hard lesson. Now that he’s just the friend , he doesn’t get to be the one she runs to. Not ever again.
Can’t wait for him to see what I have in store for him.
A second later, I fully run into Logan from behind when he stops a few paces inside the door. “Shit, what the hell?” I bark as I stumble and try to regain my footing.
Logan pivots, then jerks his thumb over his shoulder, his blue eyes flashing. “Have a look at what our hilarious coach did.”
Frowning, I advance, peering around the corner. No way. No fucking way. “Um, no.” I grimace as the full truth of our circumstance smacks into me. “Why the hell do we only have one bed? Didn’t Coach specifically say all rooms had two queens?”
“I don’t know.” Logan shakes his head. “This has gotta be a bad joke. But whatever. I’m going lights-out as soon as my head hits the pillow.” He drops his bag onto the bed and unzips it, rummaging around. A moment later, he pulls out a toothbrush and toothpaste and spins around, heading for the bathroom.
“Whoa. Hold it. I’m not sharing this bed with you.” I raise a hand and aim a lethal glare in his direction.
“Oh?” He pauses, shaking his head. “And where do you plan to sleep? The floor? The bathtub?”
“Funny.” I shoot him a sour look. “ You can choose where you sleep, so long as it’s anywhere but in that bed with me.” Before Logan can turn around again, I push past him, entering the bathroom, and shut the door behind me.
Purposefully taking my time, I strip and get into the shower. I don’t know what his response will be, but I don’t care much.
A few quiet minutes go by, then as I’m soaping my junk, the sound of the door unlatching greets my ears, and my hand instinctively cups my dick.
“Take the most ridiculously long shower you want, but I’m brushing my teeth while you do it. Sorry, I’m not waiting around for you while you shampoo your hair and think about every perfect pitch you threw today. I told you I was fucking tired.” The sharp tones of Logan’s voice reverberate off the tiled walls of the small bathroom.
My dick jerks against my palm. I grit my teeth. “You could have fucking waited two more minutes. I’m almost done.”
He doesn’t answer, but water runs from the faucet, so I know he’s out there. About thirty seconds later, he spits and something taps against the edge of the sink. His toothbrush, maybe.
“Get the fuck out, Logan,” I growl as I shift the shower curtain to the side enough to grab a towel from the shelf on the wall.
His eyes meet mine in the mirror, and he huffs out a laugh. “What? Are you afraid I’m going to join you and jerk off on your ass this time?”
A full minute later, I’m still trying to work out when my stepbrother grew a pair of balls… and also come up with an explanation for why my face is flushed and my blood hot.