Page 2 of This Is Love
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. Youdocare 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 takesway 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.
