Chapter Twelve

RYAN

There was an almost sexual satisfaction in sending Logan the first payment. Initially, he'd thought he wouldn't be able to manage sending him such a large chunk of his paycheck, but Emerson had assured him he was happy to have him stay, and they'd worked out a good system. Ryan didn't even mind sleeping on the sofa bed—it beat the hell out of a shelter or a crappy apartment where he'd share the sheets with bedbugs and other creepy-crawlies.

Two weeks had passed since that ugly scene in Logan's office, and there'd been no word from him. Ryan wasn't certain if he was glad or if he wanted to see Logan if only to show him he could make it without his help. He liked the job, and while it wasn't challenging, he appreciated the routine. Drew, Jordan, and Mike were all great to work with, and he was busy enough during the day that he didn't have time to think about the aching loneliness of his nights. He'd finally agreed to talk to Dr. Weber— Dr. Tash , as he insisted on being called—and his first session was scheduled for that evening.

"What made you change your mind?" Emerson asked when Ryan had confided that morning that he'd decided to try counseling.

"I've been having lunch daily with Jordan and Dr. Tash. Jordan's been astonishingly open about his addiction, and he's helped me see that therapy isn't only about revisiting and reliving the problems of your past, but it can assist you with building toward a future you once thought impossible."

Emerson's face lit up. "That's an incredible way of looking at it. And I'm so proud of you for taking your life back."

"Oh, no." Ryan shook his head and made a fist. "I sure as hell don't want that old life I had. That Ryan needs to disappear and never return. I'm starting new."

With his body stronger and his mind growing clearer every day, Ryan didn't regret leaving Logan. Life had become too easy with everything available at his fingertips. Logan had thought he was helping, but the old Ryan had taken advantage of that generosity and had not only abused Logan's trust but sabotaged his own chance at recovery.

At the center, he made a coffee and settled into his seat to input the information of the new cases from the previous day.

"Morning, Ryan," Mike said as he passed by. "How's it going?"

"Great. How're Rachel and Max?"

Mike's eyes lit up, as they did every time anyone mentioned his family. "Doing just fine. Don't forget your appointment later."

Mike was going to clean his teeth and give him an exam—Ryan hadn't seen a dentist in years and was afraid of what he might find, but Mike had assured him there'd be no fee. The center would pick up the cost under his work insurance.

"I won't. Be prepared, though." Embarrassed at how he'd let his health go, Ryan found it difficult to meet Mike's gaze.

Mike grew somber. "It's okay. I'm not here to pass judgment. We'll get you taken care of. See you at one." He disappeared down the hall, and Ryan resumed his work, greeting the other employees of the clinic as they entered. Jordan walked in with a man Ryan hadn't seen before but recognized from the pictures in the office.

"Ryan, this is my husband, Luke. He wanted to meet you after all he's heard from me."

His brows rose. "Uh, I hope that's a good thing. Nice to meet you."

"Same. Jordan tells me you've mastered the system."

"I'll let you two chat," Jordan said and kissed Luke's cheek. He scooped up the files waiting in his box. "See you later."

"I'm not sure mastered is the right word, but it's getting easier." Ryan figured he might as well put it all out there, since it was obvious Luke was there for a reason, other than to say hello to the new receptionist. "What did Jordan want you to talk to me about?"

Luke grinned and rubbed his chin. "Guess we weren't too subtle, huh?"

Ryan caught the same slight drawl in Luke's voice that Ash possessed and recalled that the two were brothers, yet they looked nothing alike.

"It's no big deal. Jordan's help has been what's carried me through this part of my recovery. He told me you gave him tough love when he was going through his problem."

A pained expression crossed Luke's face. "It was a rough time for all of us. Knowing how I felt about drugs, he hid his addiction from me and almost died because of it. It wasn't a matter of tough love. I wasn't going to give up on him, but he had to be the one to make the choice. For himself." Luke made a cup of coffee, took a sip, then leaned on the desk. "He said you had some problems with a friend not fully understanding your position?"

Denial sprang to his lips. "I…it was a little more in depth than that, but I couldn't go on with it like it was."

"It's hard when a partner doesn't understand your needs and isn't supportive."

"Logan wasn't my partner. And it's not that he wasn't supportive. He was, in fact, too supportive, cheering me on when I didn't deserve it—because I was still using drugs and drinking. I was being rewarded for fucking up my life."

"And you felt you needed to be punished instead." Not a question but a statement. Luke's thoughtful but probing expression left him squirming in his seat.

"I don't know. Maybe. I do know I didn't deserve to be told how great I am."

Luke finished his coffee and crumpled up the paper cup. "We all do things we regret. I know I have. Don't beat yourself up about it. You can't change the past. Concern yourself with the future. That's where opportunity waits and what you have control over." Luke grew passionate as he made his point. "There were times when I was a teenager, when I wasn't sure I'd make it to my twenties. Now I'm forty, married, and a father. I love my life and wouldn't change it for anything. I have my daughter, a man I love who loves me, and my brothers. But nothing came easy."

Ryan had heard snippets of conversation about the three brothers and veiled talk of how rough their lives had been, but as a stranger, he didn't feel he had the right to ask questions.

"Nothing good ever does, from what I've seen of life."

"All I can say is this: Don't let ‘no' stop you. If you want something, go for it until you get it."

"Is that what you did?" Ryan queried, the need to know too strong.

"No, that would be me," Jordan interjected with a smile. Ryan's phone rang, and several people walked through the door. "But that's a story for another day. I believe I have a new patient." He walked over to the young person standing at the door, holding their arm in an awkward position. Jordan spoke to them quietly, and they nodded and followed him to the back.

Luke frowned. "Unfortunately, it never ends. No matter how much we try and help. I haven't seen you at the after-school center yet, have I? Lots of times, people from the clinic help out over there as well."

"No. I don't know anything about it."

Luke fished out his wallet from his pocket and handed Ryan a card. "It's in Chelsea. If you ever want to keep busy, stop by. Jordan set it up as a place so kids from all over the city can come after school to study, play computer games, or just hang out. Keeps them off the street and away from the gun violence. We offer tutoring or just somewhere to be safe."

"Sounds great. Thanks."

Luke called for a car. "Listen. I know you think you want to do this alone, but trust me, if you have support and help, accept it. There's nothing wrong with leaning on people. A lot of times we make assumptions, which can put us where we didn't need to be if we'd just taken a moment to realize it's okay to let people in."

Once Luke left, Ryan thought about what he said. Had it been a mistake to push Logan away? It wasn't as if what he'd done was so terrible. Was he being too hard on Logan? It was a question he wrestled with the whole day.

* * *

Ryan had thought it would be awkward to talk to someone he saw on a regular basis, but Dr. Tash was likely the most nonjudgmental person he'd ever met. His kind eyes drew you in, and Ryan unburdened all the ugly pieces he'd thought he'd buried so deep, they'd never be revealed. It felt brutal, and for the third time during their session, Ryan had to stop to blow his nose and wipe his eyes. Once he began talking, the tears, like his words, wouldn't stop.

"I remember wanting to throw up from nerves, waiting for my mother to get my father his beer. He never did anything—she cooked, cleaned, and waited on him. He sat and turned on the football game. My mother stood by the kitchen entrance"—Ryan rubbed his face—"and I told them I was gay. My father stood up, and I backed away, but he came at me. First he spit in my face, then hit me so hard on the side of my head, it banged against the wall and I saw stars."

"And your mother?" Dr. Tash asked quietly.

"She just stood there and let him do it. Never said a word."

"What happened next?"

He clasped his hands. "It's kind of a blur, but he told me to get out. That I disgusted him, and if I wanted to be one of them , I should sleep in a barn with the other animals. Next thing I knew, he was tossing my clothes in my face. I grabbed my old duffel bag, shoved whatever I could inside, and left. The last thing I remember is the sound of the lock clicking on the front door as I walked down the steps."

"And you haven't had any contact with them?"

"I tried to come home when he was at work to talk to my mom, but she wouldn't open the door. She just told me to go away."

Shaking his head, Dr. Tash covered his eyes for a moment. "I'm horrified you went through all that."

"It happened over twenty years ago, and most of it has faded from my memory." Ryan shrugged, hating that he lied, but better to keep secret what he'd done to survive. The scars that bound him tightened.

Dr. Tash raised his gaze to meet his. "I understand if you don't want to talk about it. But it could help you."

"How?" he asked, voice trembling. "How could telling you how much I hated myself for living help me now?"

"Because you're still punishing yourself for something that isn't your fault."

Ryan's laughter was bitter. "And the truth will set me free?" He'd been a prisoner of his own mind for longer than he could remember. Mere words wouldn't help him.

Dr. Tash remained solemn. "If you can't share it with me, or someone else you trust, try to find the forgiveness inside yourself."

"I hurt my ex badly. And I hurt Logan."

"Maybe telling them you're sorry will help."

The thought of facing Garrett made him queasy. He'd rather face Logan's wrath. "I'd thought…maybe to talk to Logan. Try to explain why I ran away."

Dr. Tash nodded. "Good. I think it would start you on the right path."

Ryan managed a thin, humorless grin. "Or get me thrown out on my ass. I'm not Logan's favorite person. He won't want to see me. He hates me."

"You'll never know unless you try. I know you and he aren't in a good place, but maybe now that you're more settled, you can talk to each other, and if not become friends, at least end the vitriol between you. Think about it, and maybe our next session you'll be able to tell me that part of your life is settled."

Their session over, Ryan pondered all they'd discussed as he closed his computer and zipped up his jacket. How do you fix your life after it's been fractured and torn? Mistake after mistake had piled up, leaving him buried, barely able to breathe.

In the end, he knew Garrett would forgive him because he was that kind of person—sweet, kind, and caring. Plus, he had his new husband and life. Ryan doubted Garrett thought about him at all. The one thing Garrett had always wanted—a home and family—was a foreign concept to Ryan. The best thing Ryan had ever done for Garrett was leave him.

But not Logan. That was another story. They had unfinished business, and Ryan was certain Logan counted the many ways he'd like to hurt Ryan every single day. For a detail-oriented person like Logan, he might have even written out a list. There'd be no forgiveness.

And yet…

Maybe Dr. Tash is right. Get it out of my system for good and put it behind us so we can both move on. Without taking time to think too hard and chicken out, Ryan called for a car, and within forty minutes, found himself in the elevator of Logan's building, on his way up to his apartment. He rang the bell and heard the soft chimes. Footsteps approached, and sudden fear seized him.

What if Logan had someone with him? A bitter taste rose to his tongue. Why did that fill him with pain and anger? There was nothing between them but a cold, empty void.

Maybe this is a mistake.

He could make a break for the fire stairs nearby if he hustled.

Before he could react, Logan stood in front of him, green eyes cool, dark brows raised, the trace of a sardonic smile curving his lips. Resentment radiated off him. "What're you doing here?"

A torrent of words escaped him. "Please don't shut the door in my face. C-can we talk a few minutes? I promise I won't take up your evening. I just—"

"Come in." Mercifully, Logan cut him off. "I don't have plans."

Ryan dutifully followed him. He'd always loved how open the apartment was—each room flowed into the other, with simple, clean furniture. Large, modern art pieces brought splashes of color to the stark white walls, and Ryan recalled Logan's laughter when asked if he'd decorated the place himself.

"Not on your life. I gave my client's wife free rein, and she delivered. Deirdre complained it looked like a cross between a college dorm and a library."

Logan held up a bottle of club soda. "Join me for a drink?"

Figuring it would be good to have something in his hands, Ryan agreed, noting Logan chose to have the sparkling water as well.

"Thanks," he said when Logan handed him the glass.

Surprising him again, Logan settled into the space next to him instead of the chair across the coffee table, and his proximity sent Ryan's confused emotions into a spiral of longing, desire, and fear.

"Now, to what do I owe this honor?"

Ryan took a sip of his water and set it aside. "I came here to apologize."

"What for?" Logan's face reflected his puzzlement. "You already did so for stealing from me, and you made the first payment today—thank you very much, by the way—so I'm not sure what you're talking about."

"I'm not either," he muttered before huffing out a breath. "I…uh…I started seeing a therapist. Today, actually, was my first session. He suggested it might be a good way to get closure if I sat and looked you in the eye, said I'm sorry, and told you why I did what I did."

"And then what?"

Ryan thought a moment. "Well, I guess then we—I mean, I—can move on. I know I hurt you and I sounded ungrateful. But I'm really not. I appreciate everything you did for me."

"Except you couldn't wait to run away when you read the letter."

Ryan hung his head. "I was ashamed and embarrassed." He raised his gaze to meet Logan's. "I didn't want to be a liability."

"That was in your own head. Did I ever give you a reason to think you were?"

Once again, they'd reached that damned impasse, but this time Ryan decided to lay it on the line. "Whether you did or didn't, I felt like a failure. Unworthy. They're my feelings, and that makes them valid."

"Unworthy of what?" Logan's brow wrinkled. "It sounds to me like you've set up a standard to measure against a preconceived idea of how I live or whom I surround myself with."

"Everyone in your life is rich and successful. Of course I'm going to feel less than. How could I not?"

"By not dwelling on what you can't change and who you're not, and becoming who you are. Who you can be." After delivering those startling words, Logan ran his hand through his hair. "Look. I'm not saying I handled it well. In retrospect, maybe I was a little…overprotective. Overbearing, even. I guess I didn't trust you enough."

"Which I proved by running to the bottle the minute I got bad news. I should've talked to you. I owed it to you for everything you did for me." In all the time they'd spent together, right there on this couch, they'd never had a talk so intimate or honest. "I still don't understand why you bothered. I gave you nothing in return."

"You owe me nothing. And you did give me something I needed more than anything."

Logan's face became serene, the harsh lines smoothed, and the hardness around his eyes softened. He looked younger. Vulnerable in a way Ryan had never imagined.

"What?" he asked.

Logan smiled, but wetness gleamed in his eyes. "Redemption."