“How’d it finally end?” Tate’s voice was low, and Logan knew he was pissed. Possibly disgusted at the fact he was with a person who’d had such low self-esteem that he’d stayed with someone who wouldn’t acknowledge his existence for years.

Not months—fucking years.

“I broke it off,” Logan said, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Why?”

He didn’t answer right away.

How to say the words? How to admit—

“Why, Logan?” Tate cut in as he angled his face to see him.

“Because I went to work one day and Cole introduced me to his wife. He was so damn happy it was sickening. But at the same time, I realized what I would never have.”

Tate didn’t say anything, so he just continued on.

“They got married two weeks after knowing each other. Did she tell you that? One day I was meeting Rachel, his girlfriend, the next I met Mrs. Madison.”

Tate dropped his hands and turned to face him, shaking his head. “No, she didn’t.”

“Yep. They met months back, briefly. Then Cole chased her down, and two weeks later, they were hitched. Crazy fools. Crazy fools who were in love.”

Logan cupped the back of his neck and grimaced.

“I tried to justify the way Chris treated me. That the more I suffered, the more it proved to him I cared. I held on to the misguided belief that he would eventually introduce me to his family and I’d be able to introduce him to mine. But I knew that would never happen. I knew nothing about him, but he always knew what to say, how to keep me coming back. Just when I would be determined to leave, he’d do something kind or say something right to make me think he cared. He was a master manipulator. But nothing would ever change the fact that he was ashamed to be with me. That’s not love, and eventually, the kindest words twisted and turned into the cruelest ones. So I finally decided to tell him it was over, that I was done.”

Tate looked as if he wanted to say something but instead held his tongue.

“He didn’t take it well, and we got into an argument. I said some horrible things. Things I’m not proud of. But then he tried something he had once before. He went to punch me, but I’d learned that lesson. I was bigger than I was back in college, and stronger...”

Logan swallowed, feeling nauseated. He knew he did a good job of presenting to the world a loud and confident man, but deep down, he was still that college kid—that man who’d let himself believe in forevers…

“He swung his fist…but I beat him to the punch. I landed several to his face and stomach, and he hit the floor at my feet. Just lay there like a fucking sack. But I couldn’t stop. I was so fucking angry I kept going. I’d never wanted to physically hurt someone the way I did him. I wanted him to suffer. Suffer the same way I had for years because of him. For all the times he’d intimidated me, denied me, made me deny myself—made me feel ashamed of who I was.” Logan stopped talking and took several heaving breaths. “If it hadn’t been for Cole once again saving the day by calling my cell phone, I’m not sure I would’ve stopped.” He ceased talking. He didn’t know what else to say.

He’d never told anyone what had happened with Chris, the fact that he’d put the guy in a hospital. He disgusted himself, and when Tate’s hand brushed his shoulder, he wondered how he could bear to touch him.

Logan glanced up to see that his eyes were full of compassion and full of pity.

Pity for me.

“You would’ve stopped,” he whispered.

Logan looked away. He’d never been more ashamed of himself than he was standing there before this man—this honest and decent man.

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.”

Logan brought his face up so they were eye to eye, and Tate slid his hand up to grip the back of his neck.

“I know you, and Logan…you would’ve stopped.”

Logan clenched his hands inside his pockets, and when Tate took a step closer, he had to steel himself from moving away.

“You were in an abusive relationship, and you finally stood up for yourself. Just because he didn’t beat you daily doesn’t mean he wasn’t abusing you. He was a bully. He made you afraid to be who you were.”

Logan blinked, trying to fight back tears as Tate continued talking. The relief of unburdening himself had now been replaced with the fear of what Tate would think.

“He took advantage of your feelings.” Tate paused and then whispered, “Logan?” He refocused on Tate and felt his heart just about stop when he said, “I will never take advantage of you. Not ever. Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me.”

That right there was what the words ‘I love you’ meant to him—trust—and he had entrusted Tate with every secret he had, even the one he was most ashamed of.

23.

Tate ran his hand down Logan’s shoulder and arm until he could pull his free of his pocket. He interlaced their fingers and drew him toward the center of the living room.

“Lie down with me.”

Logan frowned at him but moved slowly in the direction he was leading him. When they stopped, Tate kissed the corner of his mouth and then slowly knelt at his feet. Once he was there, he watched Logan run a hand back through his hair. The expression on his face was one Tate had never seen before.

He looked lost—and Tate was determined to bring him back.

“Tate, I—”

“Lie down with me,” he asked again, insistent on bringing Logan out of the headspace he was currently in.

Logan didn’t argue this time. Instead, he knelt opposite him and gazed off over his shoulder.

“Be with me,” Tate invited, reaching out to run his fingers along the short hair covering Logan’s jawline. “Put your hands on me, and take me.”

When Logan turned his face back toward him, Tate’s breath caught in his throat. The lost look from moments earlier was gone, replaced with one full of wonderment.

“God, you’re amazing. How’d I get so lucky?”

Tate ran his thumb over Logan’s chin and answered, “Because you’re persistent and pretty damn amazing yourself.”

Logan kissed the thumb stroking him, and then Tate leaned forward and pressed his lips to Logan’s.

A promise—I’m yours. If you want to be mine.

He felt Logan’s hands under the back of his shirt and warm fingers stroked their way up his spine. Goose bumps rose over his skin as Tate lifted his arms and whispered to Logan, “Take it off.”

Logan moved back a little and drew the shirt off him, dropping it to the floor beside them.

Tate leaned forward, recaptured Logan’s mouth in a heated kiss, and started to undo the buttons of his shirt from the bottom up. As Logan’s tongue entered his mouth, Tate groaned and managed two more buttons.

Damn, the taste of him. I can’t get enough.

When he reached the top button, he pushed the shirt apart and drew it off Logan’s shoulders. He pulled his mouth away but didn’t go far as he dropped it on his own discarded shirt. He traced a line to the center of Logan’s sternum and twirled his finger through the short hair smattering his chest, so unlike his own hairless torso.

“I like this.”

Logan placed a hand over his, stilling it. “So do I.”

“I meant the hair.”

Tate watched as Logan smoothed his hands down his shoulders and chest to his nipples, which he lightly circled.

“You’re so smooth. I always think like honey.”

“Honey, huh?” Tate chuckled and then flinched slightly when a finger pinched his nipple.

“Yes. Sweet,” Logan told him, leaning in to trace his tongue over his lip, “and sticky.”

He sighed as Logan lowered his mouth to his shoulder and kissed a path over to his neck, where he licked the bruise he’d made that morning. He shivered at the reminder.