London

“Do we love each other?”

For the first time in the midst of all the chaos surrounding us, he looks scared as he grabs the back of my head and pulls me back to his chest.

His breaths have become deeper, slower, but less steady. His heart, though, goes against his fight for control. It’s hurried against my ear, beating the answer to my bold but needed question. One I don’t even need to know the answer to, because I already know.

“Yeah, yeah, I think we do.”

“I’m scared, Logan.”

“It’s understandable, London. There’s a lot going on, and—”

“No, I’m scared to love you.”

He doesn’t say anything, not a word, but he takes a deep breath. In that moment, I am sure he is going to tell me not to be afraid. I need him to tell me not to be afraid.

“I would be, too.”

I glance up at him. His eyes are closed, and his head is resting against the brick wall behind him.

“The shit doesn’t last, London. Love, it just doesn’t last.”

“It can,” I say, feeling a totally different type of fear creep in.

He grips my head a little harder as he pulls it tighter to his chest.

Silence surrounds us, and so does the realization that people are dead, and I am trapped. Not in a car this time, but in a tiny storage room under a set of stairs.

Silence surrounds us, and so does the realization that people are hurt, and I am unable to help them, because I am hidden, and not in a wine cellar tunnel this time with Lexington, but in this tiny fucking room with Logan.

I feel my chest tighten, and my breaths come harder again. My lungs are tighter. Oh God, I am going to have another panic attack.

Logan cups my chin and holds my head up so I have to look into his blue eyes. “Breathe, London, and fucking listen to me.”

I nod vigorously as I seek solace in the eyes of the man who I know loves me. I seek oxygen in them, safety in them, and I get something I haven’t ever seen.

It is near blinding, yet I can’t look away. It’s the tunnel and the light you know you aren’t supposed to follow, but God, I want to follow it.

Love, I see love, and it is breathtakingly beautiful.

“My love comes with conditions.”

When I am able to speak, I tell him, “It’s supposed to be unconditional.”

He shakes his head, and then I hear a shot fired.

“Oh, God...”

He covers my mouth again. “First condition, you fucking listen to me. I’m never going to tell you not to do something because I’m trying to control you or hold you back.”

I nod.

“Now, you can’t scream, okay, London? You can’t, because you do and that fucker comes in here, I’m gonna take a bullet to make sure you don’t.”

“Because you love me?”

He shrugs then nods. “Because I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you while I’m around.”

I nod, and then another shot is fired.

I close my eyes tightly and a whimper escapes my mouth.

“Condition two,” he says, and I know it’s to get my focus on him and not the madman in the bar. “When you go anywhere, you fucking tell me. I go with you or, at very least, I know where the fuck you are.”

I smile as a tear runs down my cheek.

He swipes it away quickly with the rough pad of his thumb and continues to hold my face in his hands. “Condition three, never fucking lie to me. I hate lies, all of them, London. They ruin things and fuck people up.”

“Same,” I whisper. “Same,” I repeat, and he nods once.

“Condition four,” he says softer this time. “I don’t know when or how the hell this all works, but you and I need to ease into this shit, okay? I don’t know if it’ll be tomorrow, a month from now, or when you’re done with school, but—”

“Done with school?” I gasp, and then several shots are fired repeatedly.

With one hand, he covers my mouth, stopping the pending scream, and then he leans down, lips to my ear.

“Condition five.” He holds my face firmly so I can’t look around him and at the door. “No matter how long it takes, no other motherfucker gets to be inside you, ever. That V card is mine. You gave it to me.”

When I nod, he pulls my head against his chest, pressing one ear against it and covering the other with his hand as the shots continue.

“You weren’t supposed to be my first love, London,” he sighs a whisper in my ear. “You were supposed to be my second.”

I try to look up, to ask him what the hell that means, to ask if I’m not good enough to be his only, but then the door crashes in. He circles his arms around me as he pushes me farther into the corner.

The moment right before death comes realization that overtakes reason. I’m pissed at myself for being mad at him for just one split-second. I’m pissed my last thought could be anger toward the man I love. And I’m so pissed he possibly made my last thought about him needing a first.

“They’re in here!”

“Maddox?” I cry out, knowing it’s my brother’s voice, right before the cabinet crashes to the ground.

“London!” he yells as he grabs me from Logan and pulls me into a hug. “You’re okay. Thank fuck you’re okay.”

“Yes, Em,” I hear Brody. “She’s okay. Young Links did his job; looked after our little princess. Thanks to Maddox for hiring him to be a pain in her ass last semester, and thank fuck he came home tonight.” Brody laughs as he holds the phone between his shoulder and ear while pulling me away from Maddox. “Yeah, I know. We promised her, but Maddox says he never did.” He hugs me tighter.

I look up to see Logan scowling down.

“I will thank them both. We’ll be at her dorm soon.”

Logan looks up, and our eyes meet. He knows I’m angry. He looks like he always does—unreadable.

“You lied to me,” I mouth.

He shrugs then rolls his eyes slightly as he turns to Maddox.

“How can I ever thank you?” Maddox says, his voice unsteady.

“No need,” Logan says as Dad’s phone rings.

“Hello?” Dad answers, still holding me. “Yeah, Links, your boy’s right here.” He tosses his phone to Logan. “Your old man’s on the line.”

“I’m fine, Dad,” Logan says as he walks out the door, leaving me behind.

Dad stands back, looks me over, and sighs. “London—”

“Get me out of here,” I say, finally allowing my anger to boil over. “Get me out of here now!”

“Okay, London, okay,” he hushes me.

Sandwiched between Brody and Maddox, we walk into the narrow hall of the club. It’s dark, but red and blue neon lights are flashing. Not green and red like before.

The smell isn’t sweat and alcohol, or the heavy perfume of the people dancing. Oh God, so many people, I think as my knees buckle.

Maddox is behind me and catches me under my arms, holding me up as my body begins to shake violently. The smell of sulfur and smoke invade my senses, but something worse, something far more pungent filters in as Dad and Maddox weave me blindly through what I know isn’t a maze. It’s a dance floor that smells faintly of copper.

When my feet are finally able to work on their own and touch the ground, I cringe when they feel sticky against the floor.

“Almost there, London.” Maddox sounds as if he’s whispering, but I know he’s not. I know he’s yelling over the police, and the paramedics, and the patrons who are crying in pain.

When I feel cold air hit my face and asphalt under my shoes, I pull my face from Dad’s back and look up at the sky. It’s clear, totally clear. It’s so clear you can see all the stars twinkling, and stars should not be twinkling. They should be falling, crying from Heaven, because it is not a happy day. Nothing is normal.

My body trembles violently, and my teeth chatter so hard I fear they may break. I’m thankful, though, because I can’t hear what anyone is saying. Right now, I know I can’t handle knowing how many are dead, how many are injured, how many are fellow students, facility members, people who went out to have a good time, to dance and celebrate life.

Human fucking beings’ lives were taken today because of one person’s inability to love themselves...more.

More than their pain or their weakness. More than the words of those who may have made them feel lesser, or the words they may have heard in their head. Or more than it took to tell themselves no.

“No pain, no hurt, no killing. No, no, no!”

“Okay, London.” Dad picks me up, and I realize I am covering my ears, pulling my hair, and the words inside my head were out loud.

“She need to be seen?” one of the uniform officers asks. “Is she injur—”

“Maddox, give him the information to contact us tomorrow. Right now, my little princess needs her mother and to get the hell away from here,” Dad says, holding me tighter.

Inside the SUV, Maddox slides in beside me and holds me as I bury my head in his shoulder.

The overhead light comes on as I feel a gush of cold air. After my eyes adjust to the light, the door closes and another opens seconds later.

“You all right, son?” Dad asks, and I hear Logan answer with a grunt. “Thank you, Logan. Thank you so much.”

Another grunt, this one coming from deeper inside, and then the vehicle moves.

After a few minutes, Dad asks, “You okay with us walking you into the dorm, London, or you want Logan—”

“You,” I interrupt.

“They’ll see—”

“I don’t care,” I say, wiping my nose on my sleeve.

“You sure?”

“Yes,” I answer, knowing exactly what’s going to happen next.

“You wanna walk or—”

“I’m fine,” I cut Maddox off, taking the tissue he hands me and wiping under my eyes before stepping out of the SUV.

When the elevator door opens on the eighth floor, the first person I see is Fletcher. He practically runs toward me, arms wide open, and I run into them.

After a hug, a soft, warm, caring hug, he steps back and looks at me with the sweetest, kindest eyes in all of Lawrinson Hall.

I look up at him and see that he is fighting tears. I’m not fighting anymore. I let them fall.

“I have no idea what I would have done if something happened to you.”

“Yes,” I say, batting away the tears.

“Yes?” he asks with concern.

“Yes, I want to date you, Fletcher. Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend.”

His sad smile fades as I pull him down and kiss him.

His lips touch mine softly, so softly, and then he pulls back

“No, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I was stupid. I shouldn’t have been waiting for—”

He covers my lips with a finger. “Shh, sweetheart. No apologies. I understand.” He hugs me until I hear a growl.

He looks up in the direction it came from. I already know. It’s my dad or my brother’s unhappy, overprotective sound.

He looks away from them and at me.

“That’s my dad and my brother, Brod—”

“Brody and Maddox Hines.” He shakes his head slightly as he holds his hand out to them. “I’m sorry that we are meeting under these circumstances, but I’m Fletcher, Fletcher Reeves.”

“Can we do this another time, London?” Dad shakes his hand as he asks.

“Of course.” Fletcher steps aside.

---

When we walk into the quad, it’s packed. Mom, Lucas, Tessa, Harper, Ava, Luke, my roommates...

I cover my mouth and cry into my hands as they run to me. Lisa, Christy, and Jamie surround me, and we all cry. We cry because we are happy that we all are alive. We cry because we didn’t think we would be. We cry because we’re scared. And we cry because we are here together.

I look up, seeking my mom’s eyes through my tears, and watch as she cries while Brody holds her shaking body.

“Lisa,” I hear Tessa say after several minutes have passed.

She sniffs as she looks toward her.

“We need to get you to the hospital now.”

“Are you okay?” I ask.

She holds up her arm and shows me the blood-stained cloth covering it.

“Got cut when you shoved me through the window,” she answers, lips quivering.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her.

“You should be, Elle, or London, or whoever the hell you are! I turned around to grab your hand and you were gone!” Christy begins to cry again. “The shots, the...I was so scared. So—”

I hug her as we both begin crying again.

“Your parents are flying in, Lisa. They’ll be here in two hours. We can wait for them, but we have waited—”

“Go. Go get stitched up,” I interrupt Tessa.

She nods, wiping her tears away.

“I’ll go with.” Christy hugs me before leaving.

I watch them walk toward the door and see Fletcher standing there.

“I’ll drive you all.”

“Thank you,” Tessa says before hugging Logan. “You were very brave today, but very, very—”

“It’s all good. Everything worked out as it should,” he says, briefly looking at me, then quickly away. “We’re all fine.”

Tessa hugs him quickly again, then hugs Lucas. “I’ll be back.”

“I can go,” Lucas gives Tessa a half-hearted offer.

She shakes her head then nods toward Logan. “I’ll be back. You hang with our hero.”

Lucas gives her a kiss while his intense stare focuses upon his son.

I know that look. It’s the look of a parent who could have lost a child. A look of the need to protect. The look I myself have had the honor of having set upon me several times. From my father while he was dying. From my dad Brody too many times to count. From my brother Maddox just as often. From Mom when she doesn’t think I’m looking. And from Logan, my friend, who yes, I love, but—

“London,” Mom whispers, taking my face in her hands and turning it to face her. “What can I do to help you through this?”

“I...” I pause and look at Jamie. I know her mom won’t be here. She’s fine physically, and they pushed her so hard to toughen up, which makes her strong, so strong, but she shouldn’t have to be. And as much as I want to go home, I can’t leave her alone. “I want to sleep. Jamie?”

She nods. “Yeah, me, too.”

Brody and Maddox pull all our mattresses from our beds and bring them out into the living area, making a cuddle puddle before we even realize what is going on.

Mom waves to the floor. “Let’s get some sleep before everyone gets in. You have to give your statement to the police first thing in the morning.”

“I’m gonna head out.” Logan’s deep voice catches my attention as I lie down next to Jamie.

Mom, who is sitting next to me, stands. “Logan, we’d like you to stay.”

“I’m good,” he mumbles.

“Let’s hang here. The cops will be here in the morning and—”

Logan sighs. “Dad, I’m fine.”

“Logan—”

“Jesus Christ,” he huffs. “I’m fucking fine.”

“Well, I’m fucking not,” Lucas tells him. “Now get in the damn puddle, Logan.”

They stare at each other for what seems like an eternity before Logan finally closes his eyes, shakes his head, opens them, and looks at me.

His blue eyes are not sparkling. They don’t look like the perfect Caribbean waters. They are angry and cold.

He turns and walks to the door, walking out quickly. Before he starts to close it behind him, though, Lucas is on his heels and catches the door with his foot.

“We’ll be back in the morning.” Lucas gives me a weak smile, nods, and then walks out the door.

“Logan!” I yell, and he turns around and looks at me. “Thank you.”

He lifts his chin. “Yeah.”

---

It’s five in the morning, and I can’t close my eyes without the night’s events passing through my mind like a horror movie. I can’t close my eyes without seeing him, the man who came into the club, wearing a suit that didn’t fit him quite right. I remember him standing next to me at the bar and smiling at him minutes before I was on the dance floor. I remember being in that tiny bathroom, waiting, laughing as we all looked in the mirror and applied our lipstick and fixed our hair, minutes before we heard the first of many shots fired. I can’t close my eyes, because I can still see my friends’ faces as they one by one escaped through the window I broke, or hearing them cry as I pushed them out. I can’t close my eyes without seeing the door fly open as a group of women came crashing in, panicking as I pushed them up through the window. I can’t close my eyes without feeling, hearing, and near panicking when the bathroom door flew open and more shots rang out. I felt the weight of her body hit me and knock me to the floor, her body covering mine, as he shot over and over again until there were no more cries.

I bury my face into the pillow and pretend to sleep so that Mom will.

When all is quiet, I slide out from under her arm and down the mattress. Not wanting to wake anyone, I decide to use the bathroom in the common area.

When I walk out, I see the TV, and the news showing footage of the shooting.

The volume is low, too low, so I walk to it and kneel.

Twenty-seven people in critical condition, seventeen dead, including the gunman.

I see Logan’s truck and am shocked to see it’s through the window. He drove into the bar. I have no idea how, but he managed to get to me inside that bathroom, alive.

I hear them say his name and touch the screen when new video footage from someone’s phone shows the exact moment. It shows him getting out and motioning under his truck. He looks panicked, but his actions aren’t that of a man without control. He motions for people to escape under his truck, the person holding the camera is one of them. Then the video ends, and they show a picture of Logan Links, SU Linebacker, number 42, and they call him a hero. He was. He saved not only me, but others.

Another begins. The footage is shaky, yet the audio is so clear I feel as if I am there again.

I cover my mouth to muffle the cries, not wanting anyone to awaken, needing this moment alone to get answers, to fall apart, to—

“London,” I hear a familiar whisper and look up. It’s Lucas. “Sweetheart, you don’t have to—”

“Why aren’t you with Logan?” I interrupt as he squats next to me. “He needs you. He could have died tonight. He could have, Lucas, and—”

He wraps his arm around my shoulders, hugging me, and then he points to the corner.

I look over and see Logan on the floor, his head resting on a coat as he sleeps.

“Why is he on the floor? Why isn’t he—”

“He didn’t want to leave.”

I nod. “He needs a blanket.”

“Your boyfriend offered him one,” Lucas says, looking toward Logan. “He declined.”

“My what?” I gasp.

“The RA? The kid you ran to after getting off the elevator, the—”

I cover my face as I remember my actions, out of anger at Logan’s deception, his lies, his “conditions.”

Lucas chuckles, and I look at him.

“Kisses shouldn’t be that unforgettable.”

“I—”

“I understand,” he interrupts. “No need to explain. You had a hell of a lot going on last night, London.”

“But—”

“Let me offer you some advice.”

I look at him and wait for him to continue.

“Tell the guy as soon as you see him that you were under the stress of the extenuating circumstances and you’re sorry, but it wasn’t him or love you were thinking about when you got off that elevator. Tell him it was Loga—”

“Dad,” I hear hissed, and Lucas winks at me as he stands up and hits the off button on the TV.

“I’m going to check on Tessa. You two work through your shit and do it remembering every fucking day counts.”

I wait until I hear the door shut, then stand up, cross my arms over my chest, and turn toward Logan. He’s standing, feet shoulder-width apart, fists balled at his sides.

I look up at him and see his jaw is locked shut. He’s pissed.

“You have no right to be pissed at me,” I whisper-hiss at him.

His lips twitch, and I swear I hear a growl, one I know will be followed by some crap I don’t want to hear.

“You told your father that I love you?” I snap.

His eyes narrow, glaring at me, then he lets out a deep breath.

“You have some nerve, Logan Lin—”

One long stride, and his paws are on my arms, giving me a shake. “I have some nerve, London? I have some nerve!”

“You certainly—”

“You and I had conditions, and you fucked them up as soon as—”

“You lied to me! You lied!”

“You have a fucking boyfriend and are in love with—”

I cover my ears, his hands still gripping my arms. “I was under extenuating circumstances and—”

He easily pulls my hands away from my ears. “Don’t you fucking stand here and lie to my face, using my father’s goddammed words.”

“You lied to me! I don’t trust you!”

He releases me, and I didn’t realize until then that he was actually holding me together. I begin to shake in anger—no, rage.

“You don’t trust me?” He laughs incredulously. “You don’t trust me?” He hits his chest hard enough with his thumb that I not only hear it, but feel it as if it is me he hit. “You get off an elevator, and run to some little theater bitch, and lock lips with him right in fucking front of me after I tell you that I want you.”

For a moment, the hurt in his eyes causes me to feel merciless, but that moment passes. “How does it feel, Logan?”

“What?” he gasps.

“How does it feel?”

“Well...” He scratches his head. “Not really fucking good.”

His words are said so that I know he’s clearly confused, which pisses me off more.

“All those dinners I suffered through your harem of fake-boobied blondes, Thanksgiving weekend, and you knew I had feelings for you,” I defend. “You knew!”

“You had nubs, back then for fuck’s sake, London. You were a kid. You’re still a kid!” he blasts back.

I poke him in the chest. “I specifically let you know when I was no longer a kid.”

“At fourteen?” He mock-laughs. “When you got your period? What the fuck, London? Was I supposed to start sniffing your ass and trying to fuck you? I certainly wasn’t attracted to you like that back then. Fucking sick,” he says, looking at me like I’m warped, which pisses me off.

“No!” I huff. “But, I don’t know, Logan, maybe consider my feelings and—”

“I was at my fucking peak”—he curls his lips—“kiddo.”

“Then take a shower and go jerk off. Maddox took two or three showers a day when he knew he loved Harper and would do anything to not hurt her. Go do something besides fuck every plastic bitch who spreads her legs for you! How many have there been since last semester, Logan!”

“You watch your damn mouth,” he says as if my curse words are unacceptable. “And I’m not Maddox. I’m—”

“Fuck. You.”

“Fuck me?” He laughs with agitation. “You aren’t even close to being mature enough for me to fuck, or it would’ve happened a few weeks ago.”

I force a laugh. “Oh, so you equate maturity to spread-ability?”

“What the hell does that even mean?” He laughs at my words.

“It means, you lug head, that just because someone isn’t easy and overly eager to get fucked by ‘The Missing Links’ ”—I air quote his dick’s nickname and roll me eyes—“doesn’t make them mature. It actually makes them easy. And I’m not easy.”

“Let me explain something to you, little princess.” He grips my chin. “Just because a woman likes to fuck, that doesn’t make her easy. And just because I’ve yet to fuck you, that doesn’t make you any less eager.”

“Pft,” I say, pulling my chin from his grip. “You are sooo full of yourself. That’s real mature Logan!”

“There’s a whole lot of me to make anyone full.” He pauses. “And you spread around that I have a tiny dick. That’s real damn mature.”

Embarrassed at some of the things I have done and said, and angry, and exhausted, and frustrated, and clearly emotionally unstable, I shake my head and walk around the wall that is Logan to see Maddox and Ava standing at the door.

“Great,” I mumble, looking down so I don’t have to see the speculation or anger in Maddox’s eyes. “Just great.”

“What now, London? We were past all that shit weeks ago! You and I were good!” he snaps as he turns.

I glance back and catch his mouth snapping shut.

“Fuck,” he mumbles.

I hear a giggle escape Ava’s mouth as I again focus on the floor.

“Ava, not fucking now,” Logan snarls.

“You two are so—”

“Don’t,” he warns.

“I won’t say I told you so,” she chides softly.

“Well, maybe this shit is your fault! Maybe if you hadn’t been talking shit about her and me for years, this fucked-up seed wouldn’t have been planted, and I wouldn’t be in hell,” he hisses as he walks toward the hall.

“Logan, the police are here for statements,” she says, grabbing his arm.

“Tell them, when I get back from the gym, they can get the fucking thing.”

“You can’t go to the gym!” I scream after him. “You aren’t a student here!”

“Surprise, London.” He throws his hands in the air. “I’m back.”

“What!”

“Getting his Masters,” Ava whispers.

When they leave the room, I look up.

Maddox doesn’t look angry. He looks concerned.

I shake my head, and he nods once.

“Otherwise, you okay?” he asks.

I shake my head again.

He pushes himself off the doorjamb and walks toward me. Hugging me, he says, “I can’t say I’m sorry, because I’m not.”

I grip his shirt and inhale the scent of home.

“Had he not been there, you may not be here.”

I want to yell at him for meddling, but he’s right, so I don’t.

“You’re gonna be okay, London. You always are. We always are.”

“I wanna go home, Maddox. I can’t do this. I can’t be here.”

“Okay, London, then home it is.”

---