Chapter Nineteen

LOGAN

"You look sad, Logan. Is there anything I can do to help?" Noah had asked as Logan sat waiting for Ryan.

It was the anniversary of his brother's disappearance. Logan had marked it every year as Todd's death. And the last thing he wanted was to talk.

"No. I'm fine, thanks." He brushed off Noah with what he hoped would end all conversation. "You don't have to keep me company."

"I don't mind. My husband is working late, so there's no rush to get home." With a smile, Noah stretched out his legs and waited. Logan hadn't counted on a therapy session while waiting for Ryan, but he could hardly refuse Noah's request to sit with him. He should've called and met Ryan somewhere. Instead, here he was, in this hushed room, where the only sound was his thundering heart and his breath bursting from his lungs.

Logan was the king of no small talk, and yet for some bizarre reason, he felt he owed Noah an explanation for his silence. He released a sigh.

"I don't mean to be rude. I just don't like talking about myself. I'm a very private person."

"Sharing grief or pain isn't talking about yourself. It can be cathartic, a way to release trauma. I'm not saying that's your case, but more as a general rule."

"Trust me, you don't want to share what I've been through." Logan regretted the words as soon as he spoke. They hung in the air as if a spotlight shined on them. He darted a glance at Noah, who gazed at him with quiet expectancy. Logan laced his fingers tightly.

"You remember when we first spoke and I told you I lost someone close to me because of drugs? It was my brother. Todd. At fifteen he started using, getting in deeper and deeper until he was hooked. The last time I saw him was in the hospital on this day, twenty-eight years ago. He was only nineteen, three years older than me. He'd overdosed, and I said good night and just left him. At some point during the night, he walked out, and I never saw him again. I mark this day as his official death, since I haven't been able to find him."

"And your brother's death changed you?"

"Of course it did. How could it not? It destroyed me. I should've fought harder for him to get off the drugs. I shouldn't have cared if he called me names or yelled at me. Nothing should've mattered other than him getting clean. I wasn't tough enough."

He hadn't thought the quiet Dr. Strauss— Noah , as he insisted Logan address him—could soften his hardened heart, but that was probably what made him an excellent doctor. You had no idea you'd unburden yourself, but the words spilled from your lips like blood rushing from a gaping wound. For over half his life, Logan had bottled up his emotions and hidden behind either a smart-ass answer or an icy frown. Within ten minutes, Noah had him almost in tears, revealing how Todd's loss had shaped him into the man he'd become—going through the motions, unable to breathe. To love. To live.

"I see it differently."

A harsh laugh broke from Logan. "You don't know anything about me."

A sweet smile curved Noah's lips. "You're wrong. I know you were a loving brother, and that you would've done anything in your power to help him."

"Well, yeah, but anyone would do that."

Ignoring his words, Noah continued. "You were a child when he started using and when he left. It wasn't your fault. From what you've told me, Todd was hell-bent on destroying his life, no matter what you or your parents did. You cannot help someone who doesn't want to be helped."

It was all a word salad to Logan because at the end of the day, Todd was dead and he was alone. He hung his head. "I loved him, and I miss him. Every day."

Noah placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Of course you do. I have an older brother, and if I lost him, I'd be devastated. And now I see why you care so much about Ryan. You took him into your home, asking nothing in return, simply to help him get free of drugs. That was all because of Todd, right?"

Logan lifted a shoulder. "Yeah. I couldn't stand to see Ryan fall apart. I didn't want him to end up like Todd." Those long nights of searching for Ryan, thinking he was dead or in trouble, haunted him like a recurring nightmare, where Todd's face would change to Ryan's, both of them calling for help he couldn't give. It remained a wound that wouldn't heal.

"So you're still that same person—the same loving man who wanted to help Todd." Logan's face must've reflected his internal skepticism, as Noah leaned forward, closing the space between them, his voice urgent. "Logan, I'm serious. Knowing that chance with Todd is lost, you helped Ryan. Don't you see it? You're a nurturer. Todd may be gone, but the spirit of love and giving inside you hasn't died." Noah reached out and squeezed his shoulder for a second. "Let yourself accept it and embrace it. That's the real Logan. I think you'll find in doing so, you'll be able to receive what you deserve."

A trembling began deep within him, as if what Noah had stated was true and all the heartbreak he'd sealed up had broken free. The sound of footsteps snapped him to reality, and he shifted away from Noah, who'd turned to greet Ryan.

Thank fucking God.

He quickly said his good night to Noah and headed outside with Ryan on his heels.

"Where do you want to go for dinner?" Ryan asked, once they were outside.

"How about we go home and order in? Just the two of us. Nice and cozy." He forced his numb lips into a smile, and to his relief, the car pulled up in front of them. He had the door open and slid into the back seat before Ryan could even respond.

Once in the car, he fidgeted until Ryan put a hand over his. "It's okay."

"Is it?" Was that ragged, broken voice coming from him? He blew out a breath and steadied his nerves. "I'm…I'm fine. Just been a long day."

"Then it's good to stay in."

"Yeah. I'd rather be alone with you."

He found himself holding Ryan's hand as they crossed into the city and continued to tangle their fingers together as they walked into his apartment. Upon entering, he wanted to continue that connection, so he stopped in the entrance and faced Ryan, who gazed at him with questioning eyes.

"What's wrong?"

Logan raised their entwined hands to his lips. "Nothing." His mouth traveled from Ryan's fingertips to graze his jaw and cheek. "I had this overwhelming desire to kiss you."

Ryan's hands framed his face. "Funny, I feel the same."

Their mouths connected, lips soft at first, then growing firm and hungry with need. Tongue met tongue, teasing and tangling, and Logan settled his arms around Ryan's waist, gathering him closer…tighter. Ryan's firm body molded to his.

"Logan, we should stop," Ryan whispered.

He reined in his lust and placed one final kiss to Ryan's cheek. "I'm sorry I got carried away. You're very tempting, and I think you feel the same." His grin broadened at the very large bulge in Ryan's pants.

Ryan snorted. "I'm not dead, you know."

Logan's smile faded. "Yeah. And I'm thankful for that." He left Ryan and headed to the kitchen, where he took out a glass and filled it with ice cubes, then poured himself a club soda.

Ryan stood across the kitchen island. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

Logan set the glass on the quartz countertop. "I know. But I did. Sorry. I'm a little touchy. That talk with Noah…he gave me a lot of things to think about."

Ryan took his own glass. "Noah's a damn smart guy."

"Yeah. He saw through me right away."

Ryan frowned. "Saw through you? What're you talking about?"

"Sit?" He gestured toward the sectional, and they settled into the comfortable gray suede cushions. "I had no intention of spilling my guts to Noah, but he got me at a weak moment."

Ryan snorted. "You haven't had a weak moment since you were ten years old, I'm thinking."

Logan slung an arm around Ryan. "Shows what you know. Every time I'm with you, I lose my breath and feel faint."

A cute blush rose over Ryan's face. "Stop being silly."

He wasn't, but he didn't want to get into how much truth there was to that statement. "I told him about Todd." Ryan took his hand and squeezed, but he barely felt his touch. "He said I wasn't living because I was too caught up in the past. With blaming myself for Todd's death."

"Is he right?"

A lifetime of memories buffeted him—good and bad. Todd and him at the park, riding bikes together…lying in bed, listening to their father read them stories of King Arthur…the night he came out and Todd hugging him tight, telling him he loved him no matter who he loved. And only a year later, an unrecognizable Todd, long dirty hair, sunken cheeks, and glassy eyes, screaming in his face to get out of his life…

"Logan?" Ryan touched his cheek.

He blinked away the wetness. "Yeah. He is. Which is why I took helping you so seriously. I didn't want…I couldn't stand to think of you ending up dead. Like Todd."

"To an extent, I understand it, but why me?" Ryan asked, brow furrowed, his eyes filled with questions. "We barely knew each other, yet you took me into your home, no questions, and cared, so damn much."

Logan dipped his head, unable to face Ryan. "I've told you my father's death hit me very hard, and it forced me to admit I was merely going through the motions of life. Nothing was touching me. I'd sit and watch the news, seeing all the terrible things going on in the world, and yet I remained numb. When Remi told me what happened to you, it was like a douse of ice water had been dumped over my head. Someone like you, so bright and beautiful, had fallen so far and so hard…and all I could think of was that brief encounter in the Marquee and how alive you'd made me feel." He met Ryan's eyes. "Running into you at the hotel and finding you in dire straits…it hurt to see you struggle, knowing I had so much and could help. As attracted to you as I am, I really do want to be your friend most of all, and help you, as much as you'll allow me to."

Ryan's thumb caressed his palm. "Thank you for caring. I guess I'll have to learn to accept it. It's been a long time since I had someone in my corner, or allowed someone close. And I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I've learned to live with Todd's death."

"No, that's not what I mean." Ryan released his hand. "I mean I'm so sorry I put you through this again, even though it was unintentional. You were right—I was lying to you and myself about wanting to be clean. I wasn't ready that first time. Even while I lived here with you, I wasn't off the drugs and booze. Not to the same extent as when I was married, but just enough to get me through the day. Maybe I was fooling myself into thinking I was weaning myself off, but it was mainly an excuse to keep the crutch."

"I understand. You'd been using for so long, it's where you turned to when things got rough."

"When I was disbarred, I thought the world ended for me, and I didn't care anymore, so why should I believe someone else did?"

It was a confession Logan hadn't been prepared for, but it all made sense. "I do care, I hope you know that now. But please. Tell me the truth. Are you totally sober now?"

Clear-eyed, Ryan met his gaze. "I am. I haven't touched drugs or alcohol since I went upstate with Emerson." Lines deepened in his somber face. "It was brutal as all hell, and I bet I scared off half the animals up there with my screams from withdrawal, but I needed to go through it."

"You keep saying that. Help me understand why? Why did you need to put yourself through it when I know there are other ways? Detox is never pretty, but I imagine you'd be better off monitored by an actual doctor—safety-wise, I'm thinking."

An almost wistful smile briefly touched Ryan's lips. "I didn't think it mattered to anyone if I lived or died. It sure as hell didn't matter to me. And I wanted to know and feel the torture of what it did to my head and my body, so I'd never go through it again. I wanted to get clean, but if something happened to me, it was how it was meant to be."

Ryan's simple words horrified Logan. "That's not true. I hope you understand now that you have people who care."

"I've caused so much unnecessary pain. I needed to hurt myself so I wouldn't ever again be that selfish person who used people for whatever he could take."

"Noah said something to me that I think applies to you as well. Don't you see you've already changed? Just by your words here tonight, you're showing who you really are—the person the drugs and alcohol never allowed you to be."

But Ryan's self-loathing had become so ingrained, it would take more than platitudes to drive its poison out of his system. Time and introspection would, plus friends, and maybe…a lover?

"I'm discovering a lot of things about myself."

"Such as?" Logan asked.

"That you're a very big part of this new life I'm building." To Logan's surprise, Ryan touched his face. His breath was sweet, and when their lips touched, it wasn't with desperation but rather a warm familiarity that the two of them, together, was how it was meant to be. "I care about you. And I'm so damn glad you never gave up on me."

Logan rested his forehead on Ryan's. "I couldn't. And I won't." Aching to hold Ryan but mindful of Ryan's wish to go slow, he cupped Ryan's cheek and brushed his mouth to Ryan's for a moment.

"How about we have our dinner and make it a quiet evening?"

Ryan nodded. "I could cook something. The supermarket delivers in less than an hour."

Logan brightened. "Hell, yeah. The kitchen is yours."

After the groceries were delivered, Ryan puttered around the kitchen, and Logan sniffed with appreciation. With anyone else, he'd open a nice bottle of wine to share and begin the process of seduction. Being with Ryan would put an end to all that. Did he care? Surprisingly, no.

Too many evenings had found Logan in a haze of Scotch-fueled misery, burying the pain of his losses in meaningless sex.

Now, he'd found something worth much more.

He rummaged through the bar and pulled out a bottle of ginger ale and one of club soda. Holding both aloft, he strolled into the kitchen and put them in the refrigerator.

Ryan, stirring something red and delicious-smelling on the stovetop, raised his brows high. "You know that's not necessary."

"What? That I cool the bottles? I know, but the ice cubes melt faster if it's not."

"You're really not funny." Spoon in hand, Ryan faced him. "I'm talking about the fact that you think you can't have a drink when I'm with you. I don't expect the world to change just because I have a problem."

"Maybe you should." With a frown, Logan leaned a hip against the island and crossed his arms. "If people care about you, they'll want to do what they think is in your best interests, even if they have to make sacrifices. In this instance, not having a drink is more important to me because I don't want to put the temptation in your face. It's called respect."

"Thank you. I'll have to learn to accept that." Ryan shrugged. "It'll take some time."

Logan plucked the wooden spoon from Ryan's hand and tasted the sauce. "We have all the time in the world."