Chapter Twenty-Four

RYAN

He set the phone on the desk and opened the tab on his computer screen. It was nearing five thirty and time for him to leave, but he had a few things to look at before closing up. He read and took notes, his pulse quickening. An idea had been simmering in his mind for several weeks, but seeing it in black and white made it more real.

"A master's in social work?" Jordan spoke over his shoulder, and he jumped.

"Jesus, Jordan." Hand to pounding heart, Ryan spun the chair around to face the man's dancing blue eyes. "Warn a guy, why don't you?"

Ignoring him, Jordan peered closer at the computer. "Are you thinking of going back to school?"

"Maybe." His answer was guarded, but he couldn't help but be curious as to Jordan's thoughts. "What do you think?"

Jordan plopped himself in a chair and laced his fingers in front of him. "Well, I think it could be a great idea. What would you plan to do with the degree?"

Ryan chewed his lip. "I really enjoy working here, but I feel like I want to do more. Spending time helping the kids at the after-school center made me realize I could give back that way. Lots of kids have issues at home or at school, and they might feel more comfortable talking about it at the center because it's a neutral place. I never thought I'd enjoy spending time with children, but shockingly, I do." He paused. "I feel like this is a fork-in-the-road moment for me."

"And why's that, do you think?"

Normally sarcastic and somewhat arrogant, Jordan was deadly serious now as he listened to Ryan, which he appreciated—and it also made him emotional to know that this life-changing idea was something achievable.

"I-I think I'm healing. I'm truly clean for the first time in decades, and I'm happy with who I am. With me."

" Mmm . I think you are. Happy, that is. And healing from what?"

Ryan glanced down at his hands. "The first part of my life. The failure of my marriage. Pretending to be someone I'm not. I almost lost the person I am, but the funny thing is, I'm not sure I would've known who that was to find."

"And now?"

Ryan's lips twitched. "You're very good at asking questions, aren't you? Sure you're an orthopedic surgeon and not a psychiatrist?"

Jordan's smile was wry. "I've been in therapy for a decade. Trust me, I've picked up a few pointers from Tash along the way."

Jordan was a friend—his friend, not Logan's—and had made no secret he thought their relationship had progressed too fast for his liking. But Ryan had wasted enough of his life being someone he wasn't to hide who he'd become.

"I finally know where I'm going, and equally as important, I know who I want to be with."

"Logan," Jordan stated flatly, his distaste obvious.

"Why do you dislike him so much?" Ryan was not only curious but determined to get it all out in the open.

"It's not that I don't like him, but I'm not sure I trust him."

"For what reason?"

"That whole setup he'd arranged—you living at his place and him acting like your savior by taking care of everything you needed. No questions. It's a very self-righteous way of thinking. My concern is you having enough independence not to allow him to sway you to his way only."

"That's a lot of word salad, Dr. Peterson, to say you think I'm a manipulative bastard and Ryan's a patsy." Logan's sarcastic drawl sent Ryan spinning in his chair, and he rushed to prevent an argument between the two men.

"Hey…hi. I didn't know you were coming."

Logan stood in the doorway of the clinic, his tie loosened and collar unbuttoned, a sign, Ryan had learned in their time together, that it had been a rough day. "I spent the entire day negotiating a contract. I just finished with the client at the Barclays Center, and figured we could go out to dinner."

"I'd like that."

The blaze of anger in Logan's eyes dimmed as he crossed the reception area to give Ryan a kiss. Ryan could feel Jordan's eyes on them, and Logan's lips thinned as he faced off with him.

"If you have something to say to me, Jordan, tell it to my face."

Unperturbed, Jordan shrugged. "You said it, not me. Are you a manipulative bastard? And for the record"—his gaze shifted to Ryan for a moment—"I don't for a second think you're a patsy, Ryan. But some people have an ability to make black seem white."

"Thank you for making me more powerful than I imagined myself," Logan sneered. "I've never once thought of Ryan as easy to manipulate—for Christ's sake, I don't need to fucking manipulate anyone to get them into my bed."

Those words hit Ryan like a dagger to his heart, and he froze.

Jordan, perceptive as always, homed right in. "So is that all it is for you—physical?"

"Trying to put words in my mouth? That sounds pretty manipulative to me." Ryan watched as a light broke out over Logan's face. "Don't be a fool, Doctor. I love Ryan." Logan met his eyes. "Are you ready to go?"

Said out loud to someone else, Logan's words shook Ryan to his core. "Give me a sec," Ryan murmured and powered off his computer. He grabbed his jacket and backpack. "See you tomorrow, Jordan."

"I'm sorry if I was out of line. Talk to you tomorrow."

Ryan didn't answer and followed Logan, who'd called for a car. They waited outside the clinic, Ryan stealing glances at Logan's unyielding profile until he could no longer stand the silence.

"I'm sorry Jordan poked and forced you to have to say it."

Logan expelled a harsh breath. "Is that what you think? That I was forced to say I love you? No one forces me to say or do anything." And then Logan lifted Ryan's hand and kissed his knuckles. "I'm sorry if I was short. It's been a fucking day."

The car pulled up, and they got inside. "Where are we going? We could stay home."

"No. It's okay. I made a reservation at Tribeca Grill."

Ryan hadn't been there in years, not since his days at the law firm, and it conjured up old memories, most of which he would rather forget. Nights out there would start with numerous cocktails, then more drinks with dinner. He'd move on to the harder stuff when they'd go out clubbing. But Ryan was reluctant to ask Logan to change his plans.

"I used to go there often."

"With your firm?"

"Yeah. We'd entertain clients and have our weekly Friday roundups there. The dinners were merely a prelude to the partying after."

Logan stared long and hard into his eyes. "Okay. We can change plans and go home instead. We can order in."

"Why?" He lifted his chin. "You think I'll be tempted?" Suddenly he wanted to walk through those doors and kill those demons dogging his footsteps.

"I'm hoping I'm your only temptation." Logan smiled and played with his fingers. "And I didn't say that. But maybe you don't want to relive the past."

"I don't plan on it. I have too much to look forward to."

Admiration rose in Logan's eyes, and he kissed Ryan. "I do love you. Even if you have questionable taste in friends."

They arrived at the restaurant and were seated immediately. And again, even though he'd told Logan he wasn't bothered if he ordered a drink, Logan chose club soda, as did he.

"I'm not unhappy about joining you on your sobriety journey. Too many nights I drank my pain away, but it sat waiting for me when I sobered up in the morning."

"Does that include all the people you slept with?" Ryan asked unflinchingly. "Or hooked up with?"

Logan's brows shot high. "I wasn't drunk the night we hooked up at the Marquee. I wanted you with a clear mind." He peered closer. "What's going on? Something's bothering you."

"Earlier at the clinic, you were so casual about not needing to manipulate people to get them into your bed."

"And you think I'm including you in that group?" Logan's husky growl surprised him. "You can't be serious. Not after the other night."

"I didn't think so, but—"

"But Jordan made you think twice about me." Logan leaned forward. "I thought we'd put this to rest, but I guess not."

"It's not that I don't trust you. But I still struggle with why me."

Ryan appreciated that Logan took the time to answer and didn't just brush him off.

"Because my head and my heart tell me so, and I'm listening to them. My partner Oliver fell for his wife, Alexandra, who's the polar opposite of him, at a college party. First weekend of freshman year. They were inseparable from that point on. No one would've ever put them together, yet they're disgustingly happy." He grinned. "His words, not mine. I might not know much about relationships, but I do know what I want. And that's you. With me." He held out his hand, and Ryan took it, entwining their fingers. "Only me. Don't let people who don't know us ever make you question who we are."

There was no reason to doubt Logan's words, so Ryan accepted them and enjoyed their meal. The steak was delicious, his mashed potatoes creamy and garlicky, and the brussels sprouts bright and crispy. Logan had truffled fries, and Ryan, having finished his plate, picked a fry off Logan's. Logan's hand grabbed his wrist.

"I don't recall giving you permission."

"What else do I need to ask you for? Is there a list?"

"I'll make you one when we get home." Those green eyes radiated heat and the promise of a continuation of the passion they'd only begun to explore.

A heavy hand on Ryan's shoulder interrupted their moment.

"Well, damn. Look who's alive. Ryan, dude."

He blinked and gazed upward to the flushed face of Denny Wallace, an attorney he used to work and party with. At one of his lowest points, he'd reached out to Denny, hoping for some friendly words and help, but Denny never returned his call. Ryan twisted away from his grasping fingers.

"Hello, Denny."

"What're you doing here?"

"Eating dinner."

Logan had returned to eating his steak, a tiny smile quirking the corner of his lips.

"Guess you landed on your feet. You always were a cat with nine lives, though I thought you used them all up when you got disbarred." He guffawed and downed the amber liquid in his glass. "Murph," he called out to the table filled with suits and raised his glass. "Another one. You want, Ry? Or is that a dumb question?" he cackled.

"Sounds like your specialty," Logan said mildly, having finished his food.

Denny's sandy brows pulled together. "What the fuck does that mean?" he bristled. "And who the hell are you?"

"A good lawyer never asks a question he doesn't know the answer to." Logan smirked. "Should we get the check? I'd rather have my dessert at home."

Ryan nodded, and Logan signaled for their server.

Denny's hazy eyes grew wide, then crafty. "Ohhh, I get it. This your new sugar daddy? You dumped that schoolteacher for a newer model?" he sniggered and leered. "Guess it doesn't matter if you don't have your law license anymore—I heard you do your best work on your back…and your knees."

"The fucking hell you say that to him." Logan got to his feet, but Ryan stepped in front of him.

"Logan, don't." Curiously, none of Denny's degrading words hurt. Maybe because people could only hurt you if you let them, and Ryan was done with allowing that. "He's nothing. Not worth anything, and neither are his words. Let's go home."

Without taking his eyes off Ryan, Logan took the bill from the server, scribbled on it, and set it on the table. They walked out and grabbed a taxi discharging passengers at the curb. The ride to the apartment was quick, and in no time, they were upstairs and undressed in the bedroom. He'd finished before Logan, who'd sat on the edge of the bed, watching him.

"What?" Ryan asked. "You're looking at me funny."

"Who was he? The jerk in the restaurant."

"Someone I used to work with." Ryan made a face. "Good thing I'd already finished my dinner. Any reminder of someone like Denny Wallace is enough to make me sick to my stomach."

"Don't let him upset you."

Ryan lowered himself next to Logan and slipped an arm around his waist. "I'm not. Are you?"

"I don't like what he insinuated. That you're nothing more than a user."

"What he insinuated was that I'm no better than a whore. But I don't really care what he thinks. I care about you. And me. I don't think I'm that person."

"I know you're not. You put that dick in his place tonight, though I still think you let him off too lightly."

"What should I have done? Punched him in the face at the restaurant? I meant what I said. His words mean nothing to me. I would've felt more like they did, had I still been using and staying here, dependent on you for every single damn thing, but I'm not."

"No, you're not," Logan agreed. "You're sober, you've got a job, friends—"

"I want to go to school to get a social work degree," he declared, chest heaving, his words echoing loudly in the bedroom. "I want to help people who are struggling. People who've lost hope because they don't believe life can ever get better."

"I think that's a terrific idea." Logan took his face between his hands and kissed him. "You're living proof that it can."

"And I'm not going to take any money from you."

"Did I offer?" Logan murmured against his cheek. "I don't remember saying anything of the sort."

"You're such a jerk," Ryan muttered, yet unable to control his grin as Logan shook with laughter. "I just mean I want to find a way to make it on my own—scholarships or working extra hours. I can't depend on a safety net forever."

"I'm sure you can make it work because I think you can do anything you want."

"How about anyone?" This time he grabbed Logan and kissed him, pushing him onto the bed. "I'm ready to do you."

"Not anyone." Logan met his tongue and sucked it. "Only me."

"Only you. You're the only one I want."