Page 19 of This Is Love
“Don’t, Jaxon.” My chest puffs out against Logan’s arms with the air I drag in. With my eyes squeezed shut, I nod. “If I stay, you’re going to answer my questions.”
“Okay.” Logan’s head bobs near mine and his hold on me loosens. I cross my arms over my chest, stepping away from him, needing to separate myself before I rush right back into his arms. And the shit of this is, even when I’ve been upset with Logan lately, I’ve had Jaxon to run to. Now? I have no one.
A shaky breath skitters from my lips as I look steadily at the pair of them—Jaxon where he’s seated himself at the foot of his bed, Logan leaning against the wall, hands in the pockets of his joggers. I work my jaw to the side. “You’ve been playing me.”
“We haven’t.” Jaxon jerks in place, his jaw setting before he shakes his head.
“Then explain to me how this has obviously been going on while we’ve been seeing each other. I feel pretty fucking stupid.”
“Every bit of the time I’ve spent with you has been because I want to be with you.” He cocks his head to the side, a solemn look on his face. “You’re my pretty girl. You’remygirl.”
I heave out a breath, then swipe my fingers over my cheeks to remove the evidence of my upset. “Well, forgive me if that doesn’t feel so great right now,” I snap. “And you”—my head swivels toward my best friend, the one I gave myself to for the first time—“Logan, we slept together.” It’s everything I can do to hold it together as I witness the hard swallow that moves down his corded throat. My eyes flick to Jaxon, whose face is carefully blank. Surprise washes over me as I stare at him. “You knew.”
“I just found out last night.” He scrapes his teeth over his lip.
My eyes find Logan’s. “You told him. What did you all do after that? Have a good freaking laugh at my expense?”Why did I ever think either of them could want me?The fantasy I’d begun to spin in my head with the two of them. The way they made me feel. All of it—it’d been a lie.
“No. Jaxon and I—” He stops, shooting his stepbrother a glare. “It’s not what you think.”
“Is this whole love-hate thing, is this the first time—?” Before I can finish my question, like a lightning strike, it hits me. Seven Minutes in Hell. The money the two of them have been waving around. They said my name was chosen a second time. Jaxon took my place. And before I fell asleep, they hadn’t answered who his lucky partner was. “Oh my god,” I burst out. “It was you, wasn’t it?” I stare at Logan, hurt bleeding from every pore in my skin. “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you weren’t the one to go into that fucking closet with him.” My head whips from Logan to Jaxon. “Be honest with me. Is that where this”—I throw myhands up—“thisfuckerystarted?” I gaze steadily at one, then the other. The longer they don’t speak, the more uneasy the sick sensation in my stomach becomes.
Jaxon’s eyes shift to Logan’s, and there’s some indecipherable exchange that passes between them. “Oh my god, it wasn’t.” And in another flash, I know—there’s definitely way more to this than I was thinking there might be. My mind pings around until it comes up with a plausible guess. “The hotel?” My lip trembles, and I see it plainly on their faces. I’ve hit the nail on the head. But… their jaws are also rigid and neither will meet my eyes when I ask, “When else?”
A mask has slipped over Jaxon’s features, and he doesn’t answer, simply shakes his head, his meaning clear. He’s not open to this discussion.
“It’s not what you’re thinking. It’s just—” Logan’s voice is hoarse as it catches in his throat. He rubs one hand over his jaw. Looking like he’s going to throw up, he heaves out a hard breath, continuing. “He won’t admit to whatever it is anyway. But”—his eyes finally flick to mine—“nothing we’ve done was meant to hurt you. My feelings for you haven’t wavered. Not even a little bit. So, please don’t think that. Iloveyou.”
I swallow hard. Mortified because I don’t know whether he’s saying those words to me because he means them or because he thinks it’ll fix the damage that’s been done. With my lip trembling and my heart ripping apart at the seams, I urge the words I need to say from where they’re wedged in my throat. “I thought—” Squeezing my eyes shut, I set the truth free, but only in my own head—I thought they both might want me. I thought there was something there. I huff out a self-deprecating laugh. To think I felt selfish for wanting them both. Struggling to swallow, I manage to murmur in a flat tone, “The two of you… you’re going to give me time. Leave me alone.”
I turn on my heel, and neither stops me. All the way back to my room, tears streak down my cheeks. Curious whispers from other students milling around the common area don’t faze me. I’ve gotta get to my room where I can hide myself under the covers and pretend none of this ever happened.
As I pass a couch by the window, Stephanie hurriedly sets her laptop on the table in front of her and calls out, “Rya? Are you okay? What happened?”
“Nothing. I’m good.” Blood pounds in my head with deadly force, and my breath heaves sickly from me, especially when I reach our room and realize I don’t have my fucking key. Resting my forehead against the wood for a moment, I take several deep breaths in an attempt to calm myself before finally slapping my hand sharply on the smooth surface twice. I raise my voice just loud enough that I think perhaps Hazel will be able to hear me. “Haze, are you in there? Please”—I almost choke on a sob trying to get my request out—“let me in.”
There’s movement on the other side of the door, and it springs open a few beats later. Hazel’s bright smile falls when she gets a look at me. “Whoa. What happened to you? Where the hell were you?”
Remembering her text messages from last night—the ones that had come in while she was safe in our room and I was drugged out of my head in the hospital—I decide I simplycan’twith her right now. I shake my head. “I’m fine.” The laugh that tumbles from my lips seems almost maniacal, and it has Hazel widening her eyes.
The way she’s pulled her arms up into the sleeves to cover her hands is something she does when she’s nervous. Hesitantly, she asks, “Um, is this about the texts? If so… I-I’m sorry. I don’t even remember messaging you last night, but I saw them this morning when I woke up with a hangover and didn’t know where you were.” When all I do is swivel my head toward her and wait,she continues, “They probably weren’t what you expected from me. I feel like shit about it. I’m sorry.”
I draw in a breath, then nod. I can’t afford to lose another friend right now. “Okay. Apology accepted. But that’s not really the problem.” A light sparks in the eye of my gossip-loving friend, but I hold up a hand, swallowing hard. I’m unsure whether I’m ready to tell her where I was all night or what’s happened.
In the end, she doesn’t question me again. Instead, she grimaces as she picks up her backpack, her expression still apologetic. She swings the bag over her shoulder, chewing on her lip. “I have to go, I’m fucking up in my math class and had to get a tutor. I might even have to switch to a different class. I’m supposed to be there already. Running late.” She gives me an awkward-as-hell grin. “You know me.”
I clench my teeth, nodding. Damn, if she’s a shit friend, so am I. “Sorry, I hadn’t realized you were having trouble.”
“Yeah. I suck.” With a quick wave, she opens the door and steps out, but not without a wave and a smile. “I’ll see you later, okay? If you want, maybe we can talk about it then. I’ll be back before our reserved studio times.”
I don’t respond with anything but a nod, and a moment later, the door clicks shut, and she’s gone. At a loss for how to deal with the riot of emotion storming through me, I put in my earbuds, climb into bed, and haul my comforter over my head. I need sweet oblivion to take me away from the mess I’ve found myself in the middle of. Or at the very least, I’ll wake up to find out this has all been a terrible dream.
11
JAXON
Runningon only a few short hours of sleep does not give me the mental capacity to sort through the wrench this morning has thrown into my life, much less do more than a passable job of pitching. I grind my teeth as I step off the mound, signaling that I need a minute. I try my best to concentrate on my form as I wind up, but I’m doing a shit job. I know it and so does the entire team, as evidenced by the curious glances from those waiting on me, including a scowling Alexander. He gives me a look that’s easily readable.What the fuck’s wrong with you today?
Fuck. When I arrived in a foul mood, most everyone had given me a wide berth, with the exception of Alexander. That’s only because he’s not afraid to get in my face and tell me I’m acting like a dick. Probably why he and I get along so well. I don’t like people who don’t call people out on their shit.
