Fighting Fate (Granton University #1)(81)

“No.” She pressed her cheek to his, needing the skin-to-skin contact. “No, that wasn’t it at all. I really wasn’t there. I went home. To talk to Kayla.” She decided not to mention the visit to his parents’ house.

Logan’s brow puckered in confusion as he pulled back enough to study her face. “You drove all the way to Creighton County…and back? Today?”

She nodded. “I wanted to clear the air between the two of us.”

“And?”

Paige grinned. “And we did.”

His shoulders sagged as he exhaled. “Good. I’m glad you didn’t…I’m just glad.” His hold on her tightened fractionally. “Your ability to forgive astounds me, you know.”

Mraz continued to serenade them, promising not to give up, even if the skies got rough. Licking her lips, Paige added, “And I wanted to get her take on the idea of you and me…together.”

His body stiffened as he stopped dancing. Studying her intently, his face went a sickly gray.

“I want to be with you, Logan.” God, she’d hoped her voice wouldn’t break when she said that, but it sounded rougher than sandpaper. “And I want everyone else to accept it.”

A ripple surged through him, making him shiver. “Did she?” he whispered. “Did she accept it?”

Paige’s smile trembled as she bobbed her head. “Yes. After a little convincing, she said she just wanted me to be happy.”

“And your dad?” he pressed, his voice barely audible.

With a shrug, Paige made a face. “Right now, I’m not really concerned enough about his opinion to ask for it.” Later, she would be. But for now, she wanted Logan more.

His eyes darted around the room as he turned his face from her. He looked like he might be going into shock. “I…” His breathing grew winded. “Oh, boy. This is a dream, isn’t it?”

Paige’s soul sang with pleasure as she beamed at him. “I don’t think so. I feel pretty awake.”

When he just stared at her, appearing too dazed to speak, Paige cupped his face in both her hands. “Logan…”

His lashes flickered as he swayed toward her. When his head dipped, a persistent tap started on the glass window front of the store.

Paige yelped and spun around. Two uniformed officers were loitering right outside the entrance of The Squeeze. One man, lowering the butt of his Maglite he’d used to knock on the window, motioned for her and Logan to come let them in.

She gulped, dread icing her skin. “What’re the chances they just want a smoothie?”

“They don’t look very thirsty.” Dropping his hands from her, Logan strode around the counter and went to unlock the door.

The two officers stepped inside.

“We’re looking for Logan Xander. We were told he might be working here tonight.”

Logan exchanged a glance with Paige and turned back to them. “I’m Logan.”

She creeped out from behind the counter to join the group. This could only be about his fight with Dorian. But the campus police had already questioned everyone last night. If Logan was in any trouble, wouldn’t they have done something about it then?

Checking out their uniforms and patches, she realized they worked for the city, not the university. Maybe a different law enforcement agency wanted to take different measures.

She itched to reach out and touch Logan, just to reassure him and herself everything was going to be okay. But by the stiff, formal way the men stood, soothing touches seemed forbidden. Curling her arms around her body, she hovered just beside Logan as one officer pulled out a notepad and the other asked if they could question him.

“Mr. Xander,” he started, his voice brooking no room for jokes. “Were you aware Dorian Wade died in his dorm room late last night?”





Chapter Thirty-One


PAIGE GASPED ALOUD. The two cops glanced her way. Staring back, she stumbled in reverse until she sank into a nearby chair.

Sheet white, Logan stared at her for the longest time before he turned back to the cops.

“No.” He shook his head. His voice sounded too hoarse to be healthy, and he looked as if he might pass out. “No, I…I…I had no idea. Oh God, how did he die? Was it some kind of blood clot? I hit him so hard, I…” Losing his voice, he bowed his head and bent his shoulders in over his body.

No, no, no. This wasn’t happening. If another person died after getting into a fight with him, Logan would lose it. And she would lose him to his own self-torment.

“He was shot at close range…four times,” one of the cops said.

“What?” Paige sprang to her feet, not expecting this answer at all. “Shot? With a gun?”

She wished it had been one of those moments when someone would roll his eyes and snicker, saying, “No, he was shot with a spoon.” She needed a comedic break right about now. But no one even cracked a smile. The seriousness of the situation ricocheted through her with a full-body tremble.

Dorian Wade had been shot with a gun.

And killed.

The same night he’d tried to rape her.

“Oh, God,” Logan repeated, straightening. He blew out a relieved breath. “Oh, thank God.”

When both policemen frowned, he flushed. “I mean, not thank God he’s dead. Just…that I didn’t kill him from our fight. I just—” He shook his head as if realizing he should stop talking before he incriminated himself further.