He walked over to the sink and turned the hot water on, letting the basin fill for his morning shave as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. There, looking back at him, was someone he was finally beginning to understand again. But it was also someone who had a long way to go.
For so long, he’d lived his life for those around him. Always doing what was expected of him. From a marriage that had been a young, dumb reaction to lust to staying in it because he’d thought it was the right thing for those involved—something he would never do again. He was determined not to make those same mistakes, especially with Logan.
The fact of the matter was that Logan Mitchell was an influential figure in the city of Chicago. As one of the partners in a prestigious law firm, he was wealthy, respected, and smart as hell, and when Tate thought about the things he could offer in return, he was realistic enough to realize that it wasn’t a whole fucking lot. So when Logan had suggested he move into his condo with him… Yeah, I freaked the hell out.
After he shut the water off and drew the razor down his cheek, there was a knock on the door, and Logan pushed it open. Tate’s eyes found his in the mirror, and he straightened, surprised to see Logan fully dressed in his clothes from the night before.
“No, don’t stop,” Logan said, running his eyes over Tate in a way that suggested he liked what he saw. “I just came to tell you I have to head out. Cole is on the warpath, and if I’m not there soon, he just might send someone to hand-deliver me.”
Tate turned to face him and leaned his ass up against the sink, the razor still in his hand. “Okay,” he said, and then he asked, “Do you want me to come with you?”
Logan shook his head as he walked over to him. “No, it’s okay. This is my bed of lies, and I have to crawl out of it. I should have a long time ago.”
Logan stopped when he was directly in front of him. Then he reached a finger up to run it over the skin he’d just shaved.
“Nice and smooth,” Logan commented and lowered his eyes over Tate’s naked chest. “Just like the rest of you.” He brushed a kiss across Tate’s lips. “Keep this razor on your face, got it? If these curls go anywhere, I can’t promise my reaction will be kind.”
As Logan lifted his head, Tate smiled at the shaving cream that was now clinging to his chin. He swiped it free with his thumb and scoffed. “You’re so bossy.”
Logan’s lip quirked, and as he headed out the door, he called over his shoulder, “And?”
And, Tate thought as he turned back to the mirror with a huge fucking grin, I love it.
Chapter Three
Logan walked down the hall to Cole’s condo like a man heading toward his execution. Apparently, Chris had decided that the best way to screw with him would be to inform Cole of their…what? Past relationship? No, he certainly wouldn’t call it that.
It didn’t really matter, though, what he did or didn’t call it. Chris had lined the target up, aimed, and fired. He’d hit, too. Cole had been frosty for the rest of the evening after he’d informed him that his ex was a “chatty bastard.”
Logan had been dreading this day—the day Cole finally found out about his extra involvement with Chris. And the worst part of it was that he still wasn’t exactly sure how much he knew.
So there he was, a bag of donuts in hand and a grimace across his face. Deciding that it was better to just get it the hell over with, Logan knocked and waited to see how this would unfold.
When the door opened, he expected to see Cole’s fulminating scowl. What he got was a wide-eyed Rachel. She didn’t bother saying a word as she reached for the white paper bag he held and opened it to take a deep inhale of the yeasty, sugary goodness.
“Oh. My. God. This is exactly what I wanted,” she moaned.
The bag crinkled as she peered inside, and Logan couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him.
“What happened to the girl who wouldn’t touch a donut from a store if she was starving and it was the last piece of food left on the planet?”
Rachel raised her head and pinned him with a feral look. “She got knocked up by your brother and is now a raging lunatic if her food requirements aren’t met. I wanted it hot, cheap, and easy.”
“That sounds dirty, Mrs. Madison,” Logan quipped. “Does your husband let you speak that way to everyone?”
“Oh, shut it,” she grumbled, pulling a donut from the bag to take a huge bite. As she chewed the mouthful, she gave Logan a glazed grin full of mischief. “You’re in trouble.”
Figuring she didn’t deserve to have so much fun at his expense, Logan snatched the bag out of her hands and placed it behind his back. He got immense satisfaction when she gave a small growl of annoyance and then frowned at him.
“Give that back,” she managed around another bite.
“Not until you apologize for—”
“Taking delight in your impeding doom?”
Logan narrowed his eyes, and as she stepped aside and gave an impish grin, he asked, “Does Cole ever win with you?”
“Not if he’s smart.”
He leaned in and kissed the side of her head. Then he brought the bag back out and gave it to her. “Here. Take them now, or you may have to pry them from my cold, lifeless fingers once Cole’s done with me.”
She took them and rolled her eyes. “So dramatic.”
“Well, do you blame me?” Logan searched the hallway and then gazed back to Rachel. “How angry is he?”
The way she screwed her nose up and shrugged didn’t bode well for him. It had him wanting to tuck tail and run—something he never usually did.
“Okay. Where is he?”
She pointed to the second shut door on the left. “In the library.”
With a nod and a tight smile, he muttered, “Wish me luck.”
Before he got two steps away, he heard Rachel say his name. When Logan looked over his shoulder, she gave him a soft smile that made him think what a wonderful mother she was soon going to be.
“You won’t need luck. He’s upset because he cares. We both do. You deserve so much better than whatever Chris gave you. And now, you have it with Tate.”
He swallowed and wondered if she was right. Did he deserve better than Chris? Do I deserve Tate?
He certainly hadn’t been an angel, and he was the first to acknowledge that he hadn’t walked away from Chris when he should have. He’d stayed and allowed years of meaningless nights push him to one night he would do anything to forget.
He couldn’t find any words for her in that moment, so he gave her a nod and pushed the door to his brother’s library open.
When he stepped inside, he expected to see Cole as he usually was—behind his desk, working on his computer. Instead, he had a phone to his ear and his back turned toward him. So Logan wandered over to the wall lined with books from floor to ceiling, pretending to take great interest in them, all the while thinking back to Tate’s refusal to move in with him.
He said that he can’t move in with me, but why? Because of this thing with Chris?
Logan pulled his phone out and opened up a new message. He decided to remind Tate that he hadn’t forgotten what they’d been talking about, and it would only be a matter of time before the topic was once again under discussion.
He wanted Tate in his house, his bed, and his life twenty-four-seven. And if it took him hours of conversation and weeks of constant reminders as to why living with him was an amazing fucking idea, then that’s exactly what he would give him.
Tate stood in front of his mirror and tied his black work tie. He needed to be out the door in the next five minutes if he wanted to make it on time. He’d landed double shifts for the next two weekends after both he and Logan had traded with Amelia for his days off. So that basically meant he had no life for the foreseeable future. At least, not one that took place on the weekend.