If he hadn’t seen his father’s lips move, Tate would’ve believed he’d imagined the words. “What did you say?”

“I have spoken to Mr. Mitchell.”

“His name’s Logan. And telling him to get out of my hospital room doesn’t count.”

His father rubbed a hand over the grey stubble on his chin and frowned. “I know what his name is, Tate. I also know he owns his own law firm with his brother, Cole.”

Tate’s mouth opened, but he forgot what he was going to say. His dad slid his hands into his pockets and glanced around the condo.

“This sure is some place.”

“Dad,” Tate got out, glaring at him in a way that screamed, Start talking.

“He was there every day you were in that place. Every night too. The first time I saw him, your mother and I were being taken back to see you. He was arguing with a woman at the front desk who was refusing him permission to go back to you, and he looked murderous. He was like a man who had fought through hell to get to where he was and was being held back in the final moment.”

Tate tried to imagine how he would’ve felt in Logan’s position and couldn’t. All he knew was that, every time the topic came up, Logan looked physically ill.

“I couldn’t do anything at that point because your mother—”

“I don’t care about that. You said you spoke to him,” Tate said, more interested in what had happened between his father and Logan than anything else.

“I did. Several times. After I finally got back to see you and realized how bad it was, I told myself that, when you made it through surgery I would go get him—the one person I knew you would fight for. It wasn’t us—it was him.”

Tate clenched his hand in his pocket as he looked away from his father, not willing to be that vulnerable in front of him.

“Tate?”

When he raised his head, he saw that his father was now down the hall.

When he got to the door, he said, “I was wrong to say what I did that day you came by the house. You came looking for your father, and I wasn’t there. Just know that I am now, son. If you ever need to look again.”

And with that, he walked out the door.

Logan was almost at Cole’s office when his door opened and Christopher Walker sauntered out.

“Well, well. If it isn’t the illustrious Mr. Mitchell who takes off on a whim and drops his new clients in his brother’s lap.”

Not wanting to get into any kind of conversation with Chris, Logan chose to ignore him and went to walk by.

“Not even a ‘good morning’?”

Logan glanced over at the slick architect he’d once found so attractive and wondered what he’d ever seen in him.

Perhaps it was his back… It’d be nice if he walked the fuck out, and I could decide for myself.

“Good morning, Mr. Walker.”

Chris laughed, and the sound grated along his nerves as Logan stood there acting the part of polite owner in front of a staff with curious eyes. It was bad enough they’d all witnessed Tate’s public outing. They didn’t need to see a replay of his past.

“So, where have you been, Mitchell?”

“None of your business,” he said quietly enough that no one would overhear.

“I disagree. You were my lawyer. That usually means I can rely on you if need be. Not have to wonder if you’re off on some two-month vacation fucking your latest boy toy.”

As the words left Chris’s mouth, all Logan heard was the final snide remark, and there was nothing that could’ve held him back. Quick as a flash, he grabbed Chris’s jacket and shoved him up against the wall.

“You’re going to want to shut your mouth right about now,” Logan growled at him, two seconds away from going completely postal.

“Touchy subject, huh? What happened? Did the sexy-haired guy leave too? Just can’t hold a good man down, can you, Logan?”

“Shut the fuck up,” he snarled.

“Logan!”

Cole’s voice cut through the anger that had boiled to the surface and heated Logan’s face, and when he felt a hand on his arm, he turned and saw Cole giving him a polite but stern “let go of him now” look.

He released Chris’s jacket and backed away from him, telling himself to calm down. But it was too late. He’d already shown his hand. He’d snapped, lost his cool, and as the cocksure prick in front of him smirked, Logan felt the urge to wipe it right off his face.

“I believe you were on your way out,” Cole said, and the tone suggested that Chris do just that and get the fuck out.

“I was. It’s a pity that a firm with such a good reputation could drop the ball so easily with no explanation as to why. But then again, it doesn’t surprise me when it comes to you two. You were always better at using your fists than your brains.”

Logan was about to say something along the lines of, “Fuck you,” when Cole stepped between them and told him in a voice he hadn’t heard for years, “I explained that Mr. Mitchell would be out for some time. It is you who chose to make it an issue to deal with anyone else. I suggest that you collect your coat and get the hell out of our offices.”

Chris looked between the two of them with disgust before turning and storming out through the double glass doors. As Logan glanced around at their employees, he noticed that they’d all lowered their heads and were pretending not to pay attention, but several seemed to be holding back grins as they worked.

Christ, working here is becoming as entertaining as a night at a fucking peep show.

Then Cole turned to him, smiled, and asked, “Ready to plan a party?”

Chapter Twenty

If there was one thing Tate never got sick of, it was watching Logan when he arrived somewhere. That moment when he could observe him unnoticed—like now.

After the morning he’d had, he couldn’t wait to push it aside for a while and be back in Logan’s company. He’d taken a cab down to The Daily Grind early so he could face the windows by the side street, and now, he understood what Logan had told him that first night on their date. About how he got to watch him walk in. Because as he looked out the window, he spotted Logan striding up the sidewalk.

Dressed in his black, woolen coat and navy-blue scarf, Logan was sporting a look Tate hadn’t yet gotten used to seeing him in. And as Logan pulled the door to the coffee shop open, Tate sat up straight to get a better view.

My man is sexy as hell, he thought while Logan unbuttoned his coat and scanned the shop from behind his glasses. The collar of his coat was flipped up, and his scarf… Hell, who knew I’d love that so much? But damn, that scarf around his neck suddenly had Tate’s brain switching from how Logan looked in his clothes to the way he would look out of them.

The only problem was that he wasn’t able to do anything right now because of his damn shoulder, and he wasn’t allowed to do that until next Friday. And that was only if the doctor gave him the all clear.

As Logan’s eyes skidded to a stop on him, his lips morphed into a sensual smile and he indicated with a tilt of his head that he was going to order. That was just fine by him; he was more than happy to sit there and watch.

With everything they’d gone through in the last two months, it was nice to finally be out of the hospital and doing something somewhat normal. While sitting there, Tate started to feel the need to do other things with Logan.

Maybe I can convince him to—

“Hey, you.”

The voice came from behind his shoulder, and Tate didn’t need to turn to know who was standing there. Robbie had a very distinctive tone—suggestive.

“I saw the curls and wondered if it was you.”

As the blond barista stepped beside his table, Tate gave a reluctant smile.