by M. J. Fields
“Do whatever. I don’t give a damn.”
While Dad talks with the police in the other room, I close my eyes and lean back. London holds on tight, and so do I.
When I open my eyes, she’s still wrapped around me, sleeping. Jamie is next to her and Christy is on the floor, wrapped in a blanket.
I look up and see Ava put her finger over her lips. “Shh...”
I nod then carefully move out from under London, replacing me with an oversized pillow that she wraps her arms around in her sleep. I wait and watch to make sure she doesn’t wake up before heading out of the room to find the others.
Lisa and her parents are at the island, talking to Dad, Brody, Emma, and Tessa.
I walk over to Lisa, and she looks up.
“Hey.”
“Are they still asleep?” she asks.
I nod.
“Good. They need sleep.” She yawns.
“Why don’t you go get some sleep, too?” I ask.
“My parents think I should take the semester off; go home and try to figure out how to...” She pauses.
“What good will that do?” I ask.
“London’s going to, as well.”
Brody’s words pull my attention from her.
“Why would she do that?” I ask.
“Because she needs her family,” he says rather calmly.
“But she has her friends. She has—”
“My little girl needs—”
“Logan, she mentioned it, and we think it’s a good idea,” Emma says woefully.
“Well, I think it’s a horrible idea,” I tell her. “I think that you know that, too. The shit she’s been through in the past, she didn’t let it change who she was—”
“It’s been decided,” Brody snaps.
When I turn to walk back into the family room to ask her if she’s actually going to give up, I hear Maddox say, “He’s in here.”
I look toward the back entry and see Mitch and Keeka.
Mitch looks like hell, and Keeka, who is normally as unemotional as they get, comes rushing toward me. When she gets to me, she’s still rushing, so I brace for the impact.
“You didn’t answer your phone. I saw your truck on the news, and you didn’t answer your phone.”
I start to explain, but she doesn’t stop talking.
“Is Elle—I mean, London okay? Is everyone—”
“We’re good, Keeks. We’re fine.”
“Thank God,” she says, finally stepping back.
I look at Mitch, who just shakes his head. I know he’s annoyed that I never told him about London.
“Wasn’t for me to divulge, man,” I answer his unspoken question.
“I get that. Just feel like an idiot that I never put two and two together.” He gives me a bro hug then steps back and laughs. “Totally blown away.”
I try to figure out what to say, but then I hear “Kashmir” by Led Zeppelin, my phone’s message ringtone sounding from somewhere.
When Keeka opens her bag, it gets louder. “I snatched this from Black Betty.” She hands me my phone.
“Thanks, Keeka.”
I have over a hundred texts and almost as many missed calls.
“Fuck,” I sigh.
Mitch’s phone rings, and he answers it. “Hey, Coach.”
I look away from my phone to him.
“I’m here with him now.” He pauses. “He looks good, but you know, he’s Logan.” He looks up at me. “I’ll give him the message.” He pauses again then chuckles. “It’s true. She’s London.”
“She’s to be left the fuck alone,” I tell him, not giving a damn what reason her name was brought into this.
Mitch scowls, turns his back to me, and starts walking away. “Sure was him.”
I look at Keeka, who’s staring at Brody. He looks up at the same time.
“I’m just a concerned father today.”
She nods then looks at me, eyes getting bigger.
“It’s all chill, Keeks, I promise.”
“It may not seem like it right now, but it is,” Lisa chimes in. She stands up and holds out her hand. “I’m Lisa.”
“Elle’s—I mean, London’s roommate, right?” Keeka asks, shaking her hand, clearly confused.
“Yeah.” Lisa nods and looks down. “For now.”
“What do you mean, for now?” Keeka asks.
“Lisa may be taking the rest of the semester off,” her mother, whose name I don’t know, tells Keeks.
“Why?” Keeka asks in surprise.
“To begin healing,” Lisa’s father answers.
“Did she get hurt?” Keeka asks.
“As a matter of fact, she did. She has seventeen stitches in her arm,” her mother answers.
“But it’s emotionally we’re concerned with,” her father adds.
“Celebrate that you’re alive, girl,” Keeka tells Lisa. “Twenty-seven others wish they could right now.”
“But we mourn their deaths,” Lisa’s mother tells Keeka.
“I bet they’d be celebrating that they were still alive if given the chance.” Her tone is blunt, honest, real, and raw.
“How can you be so sure?” Lisa’s dad scolds Keeka.
“I don’t know your name, sir, but she’s not being disrespectful, so I’m gonna ask you not to treat her disrespectfully,” I tell Lisa’s old man.
“Let’s all take a moment to realize we’re all on the same team here,” Maddox interjects.
“Let’s,” Keeka says matter-of-factly. “Let’s think about what Jones and Downs would be doing right this moment.”
“Are they” comes London’s voice, “dead?”
I look back at her as Keeka answers the question she and I both have. “Jones is. Downs is in critical condition at University.”
I grab the counter when I feel my knees start to buckle.
Seeing the bodies in the club, even having pulled them off London, I didn’t allow myself to think about them. Had I, I wouldn’t have gotten her to safety. But now, knowing that two of my teammates were also there, it hits a little bit harder.
Jones, I knew it was possible, but it was also possible that he wasn’t gone. Now it’s confirmed. Downs, he and I were tight, so it hits pretty fucking hard.
Keeka and London hug, and London begins to cry again.
“We mourn, we give them respect, then we live like they’d want us to, London. You live because you can. They would want that,” Keeka says quietly.
“Did you know them?” Brody asks.
Both London and Keeka reply, “Yes.”
Christy and Jamie walk out, both looking worse than they did before they fell asleep.
“Logan.”
Mitch’s voice draws me away from them. When I look at him, I realize he’s looking at Jamie. His face distorts as he works through several emotions, the last being anger. I don’t answer him, I let him take in that she’s okay.
He points at her. “You’re fucking lucky you’re okay.”
I look at her to gauge her reaction. She looks shocked. Even more so when he stalks toward her.
When he gets close enough, he grabs the back of her head with one hand, pulls it hard against his chest, and sighs, “Jesus Christ, Jamie.”
She lets out a long, slow breath. “I’m fine.”
“Wasn’t gonna believe it till I saw it.” He wraps his arms around her. “No more shit. None.”
Her, “Okay,” is but a whisper.
‘Cuse Nation
Logan
It wasn’t fucking easy to leave Maddox and Harper’s place. It would have been harder to leave her, but she pushed me out the door with the words, “They need your strength, too.” That literally, and even under the circumstances we have faced, are facing, and will continue to face, brought life to a place that hadn’t felt alive since I landed in Syracuse. Her physical beauty, coupled with her physical strength, is absolutely a turn on.
Dad insisted we drive his SUV, since Mitch’s ride doesn’t have fo
ur-wheel drive. In the winter months in Upstate, New York, it’s pretty fucking important to have four-wheel drive.
When I open the driver’s side door, Mitch holds up the keys. “No disrespect, man, but I’m gonna drive.”
“Fuck you are.” I force a laugh. I really hate riding.
“I’m being one hundred percent real with you right now. I saw how you parked Black Betty, and I’m not chancing it, man.” He stands next to me, not caving in. Then, after a few moments of a stare down, he shakes his head. “And you look like shit. You need to sleep.”
“Fuck,” I sigh out and step back. “Fine, but I’m driving back.”
“We’ll see about that,” he says, sliding into the driver’s seat.
I get in the passenger seat, and he starts it up, throwing it into drive.
“So,” he starts, “London Fields.”
“Leave it alone.”
“Just saying, no wonder you were so over the top about her.” He chuckles.
“Known her half my life,” I tell him. “She’s been through some shit. Just wants normal. That’s why, Mitch.”
“A girl like that doesn’t get normal,” he says as if he actually gets it.
“Two days ago, I would have agreed. Now, no one seems to get normal. Or maybe this shit is the new norm.”
“Sad as fuck, man, sad as fuck.”
§
We spent two hours at the hospital. The entire team took turns going in and out of Downs’ room. His parents, Chuck and Wendy, were with him the entire time. They seemed appreciative that we were all there, but I could imagine they just wanted to be alone with him. My stomach turns as we drive toward my old place at thinking about the hell they are living in right now. The same hell Ava lived. We all lived.
I can’t even imagine what you are going through.
One sentence. Nine words that you say or hear repeatedly in times like this. Nine words used to acknowledge suffering and anguish in a person you want to console.
The reality is, yes, you can imagine. Anyone who has lost someone they love can damn sure imagine. Anyone who has sat and watched a person breathing through a tube can imagine. Anyone who has been there knows damn well what it feels like to feel hopeless, helpless, and weak. Anyone who has been there also knows that, when sitting there, feeling those crushing emotions, we certainly can’t imagine that anyone has ever survived that amount of pain.
I can’t even imagine what you are going through.
But you can if you actually allow yourself to.
“You good?” Mitch asks.
I shake my head no yet answer, “Yes.”
When we pull into the parking lot across the road, I see a packed house. Mitch gets out, while I just stare at the fucking place. I have no desire to be there. None.
The passenger door is opened. “You coming?”
I shrug. “Why don’t you go ahead? I’d like to grab the shit out of my truck.”
“All right.” He closes the door then walks around the front, opens the driver’s door, and gets in. “You know where it’s at?”
“No, but I can do this myself,” I tell him, kind of annoyed that he doesn’t get that I want to be alone.
“You may want to, but you don’t need to.”
“Mitch...” I grumble.
“Don’t, man, just fucking don’t.” He starts the vehicle, then reaches up and turns on the radio. “Google the address.”
When we pull up to the impound, Boyens is there waiting. We walk up to the gate, and she opens it, waving us in.
When I see my vehicle, I see it’s so much more fucked up than I imagined. And although it shouldn’t shock me, it does.
The glass is all busted out, and there are holes all over the front end, all made by the bullets from that fucker’s guns.
I open the driver’s side door.
“Logan, be careful,” Boyens warns.
I reach in and grab one of my hats off the console, shake the glass off, and hand it to Mitch. Then I open the console and grab my wallet. I keep pictures of Hope and Chance in it. I don’t give a fuck about the rest of it, but those I do. Fucking condoms fill up most of the glovebox and console anyway.
I grab the chain around the mirror; a St. Christopher’s medallion my mother gave me when I got my license, meant for protection during travel. It’s almost comical that my parents, who despise one another and who appear to be opposites since the divorce, have a similar vested interest in making sure I’m protected.
I grab a few more things, keeping my focus on those items and allowing my amused thoughts to keep me distracted from the fact that my truck looks like it’s been in a war.
“You don’t wanna grab Daddy Links’ bag-o-condoms?” Mitch jokes as he points back at the full bag, the one Jamie once pointed out in that first night we all went out.
“No need. Next woman I’m with is getting it raw,” I tell him.
He smirks. “London Fields.”
“You better make sure you have more than condoms, son,” Boyens says from behind me. Hell, I forgot she was even there. “A full suit of armor may be the smarter choice. The eldest Hines doesn’t seem too fond of you.”
I nod, then shrug. “I’m not too worried about him.”
She sighs. “Doesn’t surprise me. You weren’t too worried about a man with a gun shooting up a bar either.”
“Does that make him brave or stupid?” Mitch jokingly asks her.
She laughs. “There’s a fine line between the two.”
When we get in the car, I grab my phone from the charger. I ignore the exuberant number of messages from my family and scroll through to look for the saved messages from London.
I regret the time I spent needing to try to make things right with my mom. It was time wasted.
I begin to type a message that isn’t bullshit pleasantries like we have sent back and forth since that fucking kiss...since cuddle season began.
If you had died, I would have killed you.
After I send it, I stare at the screen, waiting for a reply. Not even those dots that jump around when she’s replying show up.
How messed up is it that, until her, I never even noticed those damn things?
I watch forever, and when nothing pops up, I’m irritated to say the very fucking least.
I toss the phone on the console and groan as I sit back.
“What’s on your mind?” Mitch asks.
“Lawrinson. We need to stop there before heading to the house. And we need to make it quick. I want to get home.”
“Sure thing, Miss Daisy.” He snickers.
I let my irritation spill out. “I can fucking drive.”
He doesn’t let my shit-tastic mood affect him. Fucking guy is tits in my book. “Yeah? So you keep saying.”
When Kashmir sounds off on the console, I grab my phone.
A message from Keeka.
There’s no damn Uber in this town?
There’s not even a stop light, Keeks. What’s up?
Her message is immediate
Just not feeling well.
We can head back. I haven’t stopped at the house yet. I’ll make it quick.
The dots are jumping.
No hurry. I’m just tired.
Take a nap. We’ll see you soon.
Wouldn’t that be rude?
I laugh and type my response.
No. And hey, is London around? I sent her a message and got no reply. She okay?
Her reply is immediate, like London’s should have been.
Her phone was in the club. Her sister-in-law got a new one for her. It’s charging.
Thank you, Harper, I think as I reply.
Let her know I messaged.
It takes a moment for her to message back.
Will do. BTW, you are totally transparent.
That’s a little annoying, I think as I type, needing clarification.
Meaning?
She’s typing, and I’m waiting, wishing I had never noticed those damn jumpin
g dots.
You are in, like, puppy love with her. It’s “cute.”
Cute? Fuck no!
It’s not fucking “cute,” Keeks. It’s fucking dangerous.
I toss my phone on the dash as Mitch pulls up in front of Lawrinson.
“You wait here. This isn’t gonna take long,” I tell him as I open the door to get out.
“Man, don’t pull some stupid shit and get arrested,” he says behind me.
“Not planning on it.” I shut the door and hurry into Lawrinson Hall, immediately seeing him as soon as I walk in.
Well, I guess it’s my lucky fucking day.
I can’t help chuckling at the dork. He’s wearing a fucking bowtie.
“Reeves,” I call out as I close in on him.
“Links,” he replies, not masking his annoyance. “How is she?”
Fucker must be stupid. “That’s none of your damn business.”
“It is my business.”
I want to bust his face, but I told Mitch I wasn’t planning on getting arrested. This fucker would press charges.
“You’re gonna get a call or a text from London at some point, telling you the truth in what happened last night. She was under a lot of stress from the hell she went through. It wasn’t you she wanted her fucking lips on. It was me. You aren’t her boyfriend. She did it to piss me off.”
He starts to interrupt, but I don’t give him the chance.
“You’re going to accept it, because it’s the fucking truth. You’re going to tell her that you understand because, unless you’re a total fucking idiot, you see what’s between her and me. And you’re not gonna give her shit or make a move when she comes back. Because, right now, she doesn’t want to come back. She’s gonna kick and scream all the fucking way here. It’s gonna be hard, but she’ll do it. She has to. It’s her fucking dream, and she deserves a chance to follow it. So, you fuck it up, I’ll bust your face.”
He crosses his arms, a non-defensive move, but I see through his shit.
“Are you finished?”
Idiot say fucking what?
“Good. Contrary to what you believe, I’m not stupid. I know exactly what went down when she got off that elevator. If, for one second, I thought her freshman move was legitimate, she’d have spent the night in my arms.”
