Tate shook his head, frustrated with Logan—but more so with himself. “I expected them to be a little more fucking compassionate, yes!”

Logan scoffed at him. “Yeah? Well, welcome to the real world.”

In an instant, Tate’s fury turned to dejection. “I don’t even know why I bothered following you tonight. I’m just gonna go.”

Logan scratched the thick stubble covering his chin. “Wow…you know what? Yeah, just go,” he said, his voice deceptively low as he started pacing. “Leave…Why not, right?”

He went to move around Logan, but before he knew it, he felt two hands on his shoulders pinning him in place. Logan’s blue eyes scanned his face in some kind of frantic search, and then he just…exploded.

“Leave? Of course, just leave. Fuck me for being so stupid,” he fumed and then dropped his hands away. “And fuck you for making me fall in love with you.”

Tate blinked several times as if Logan had just sucker-punched him.

He stood frozen as Logan walked back and forth, and then, as if he’d come to some inner conclusion, he spun on his heels and stormed back around to his car door.

But there was no way Tate was letting him go after that.

He ran around the other end of the car and got to the driver’s side just before Logan, blocking his way.

Finally finding his tongue, he asked, “What did you just say to me?”

“You need to move,” Logan advised, devoid now of all emotion.

Tate didn’t budge, not even to blink. He just stood there staring back at him.

Did he really just say—

“I said move, Tate.”

Logan reached out to push him aside, and still he stood his ground.

By that point, Logan was all bluster, his anger masking the emotions he’d let surface—the emotions that terrified him.

“Get. Out. Of. My. Way.”

Tate stubbornly shook his head. He’d be damned if he was going to let him leave without acknowledging his words. Plus, who knew where the hell he was going? They were already at his house.

What other options are there?

Apparently done with waiting, Logan grabbed his arm and shoved him aside. “I'm going to get in my car and drive out of here. You can either get in and come with me or never see me again. It's your choice, Tate.” Then he got in the car and slammed the door.

His choice, was it? Not any longer, it wasn’t.

It had stopped being a choice when Tate realized it wasn’t his head but his heart deciding.

He quickly walked around to the passenger’s side door, opened it, and got in. Once the door shut and secured him inside, he looked across the console to Logan.

“Logan?” He waited, and when nothing came, he whispered, “I love you too.”

The only sound in the car was his breathing—until Logan started the engine and revealed four words that almost shattered him.

“I don’t believe you.

18.

Logan stared out the windshield as he drove up the highway and told himself to focus on the road, not the mute man sitting beside him. He was still reeling from what happened back at his place, replaying the words over in his head.

They’d been driving around an hour now, and he was surprised Tate hadn’t spoken since they’d left. The last words he’d said were, “I love you too.”

Unable to help himself, Logan took a quick moment to glance at the passenger’s seat and found Tate angled toward him. His back was half pressed against the door, his arms crossed over his chest. Logan then looked up to find him watching his quick perusal with such quiet intensity.

“Where are we going?”

Finally. Something to focus on other than, “I love you too.”

“Do you care?”

Logan knew he sounded surly, but that was too fucking bad. He’d had a shitty week. His plan to go to HAZE and ask Tate to go away with him had not gone the way he’d anticipated.

Instead, everything had just gotten shittier until, “I love you too.”

“Yes, I care. Especially since I need to come up with a good excuse for being gone.”

“New Buffalo,” Logan told him, and when he got no response, he looked over at Tate who gave a few slow nods.

“What’s in New Buffalo?”

Logan saw his exit coming up and crossed several lanes, ready to leave the highway. “A beach.”

“I know that. I’ve been there before.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

Tate sighed and then asked, “Are you gonna be like this the entire time?”

“And how’s that?”

“Pissed off, annoyed, moody?”

Logan took the off-ramp, and when he pulled to a stop at a red light, he turned to face his passenger. “Yeah, I think I might be. At least for the rest of the night.”

“It’s already the morning.”

“Then at least until noon. Smartass.”

The light changed to green and Logan put his foot on the gas. There was silence in the car again until, “I was going to call you.”

Logan ran a hand back through his hair but offered no reply.

* * *

Tate continued to watch the guarded man focused on his driving.

“Why can’t you ever just say what you’re really feeling?”

Logan whipped his head around and drilled him with an expression so fierce that Tate was surprised it didn’t leave marks on him where it held him in place.

“I do say what I’m feeling.”

“No you don’t.”

Logan made a turn onto a street and remained silent.

“Okay,” Tate mused. Then he stated quite adamantly, “I love you,” and waited for a reaction.

He watched Logan pull his bottom lip behind his top teeth as if he were holding back his words. Then he released it and said, “I told you how I feel about that.”

Tate remembered all too well. “You said you didn’t believe me.”

“That’s right.”

Tate shrugged as if it didn’t bother him, when really, it cut deep—really fucking deep. “You may not believe me, but it’s true. And at least I can say the words.”

“I can say them.”

“Ah huh,” Tate placated, but he said nothing else.

He felt his mouth curving into a victorious smile as Logan pulled off onto a side street and parked, keeping the engine idling.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you always mask what you’re really feeling. Even earlier, you didn’t actually say the words.”

Tate knew he was slowly chipping away at Logan’s annoyance because he now had one hand up on the headrest and his fingers were very lightly—almost as if he didn’t even notice—touching his hair.

“I said them. Maybe you didn’t hear me after spending the night in a club.”

Tate decided if ever there was a time to remind Logan that he was exactly where he wanted to be, that time was now. He reached out, took him by the lapels, and jerked him across the console. When their noses were touching, he ran his fingers along the scruff covering Logan’s jawline.

“I didn’t think it was possible for you to be any sexier, but damn, Logan…you proved me wrong.”

This close, he could see the way Logan’s eyes dilated in response, but the pleasure was short-lived when he heard him ask in a gruff voice, “Then why did you leave me?”

Before Tate could remind him that he hadn’t left—he’d just needed space—Logan cupped the back of his neck and connected their mouths.

Molten fire lit his veins as his lips parted and Logan pushed inside. As their tongues tasted and they strained to get closer to one another, Tate felt the hand at the back of his neck slide up into his hair.

He groaned as Logan’s fingers twisted and tightened, reminding him that he loved the slight bite of pain that came when getting his hair pulled.

Damn, I’ve missed this—missed him.

The forceful way Logan took what he wanted and demanded that he do the same made Tate’s body respond in a way it never had with anyone else.

As a deep growl reverberated through the car, Tate felt his cock harden in response. Then Logan pulled his mouth free and demanded, “Stop.”