2. Jared

TWO

It'sNew Year's Day before Victoria and I manage to wrap up our mission and head home. We've been up for seventy-two hours straight, staking out a warehouse near the port of Baltimore before leading a tactical team in a breach. We apprehended several high-level members of a money laundering operation that cleans billions of dollars of illicit drug money every year.

Exhaustion is quickly setting in, now that the rush of a successful mission is fading, and I fall into the black SUV, wishing it was a bed instead.

"You okay to drive?" I ask Victoria as she slams the driver-side door.

"Yep." She still looks bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

I have no idea how she does that. We've been partners for three years now and I swear she operates on nothing more than oxygen and caffeine. Plus, she almost never lets me drive. Which is fine by me, especially today.

My eyes are drooping as Victoria pulls out of the parking lot, but I force myself to stay awake long enough to check my phone. This is the first chance I've had to turn it on in days, and I can't help but dread what I might find waiting for me when the screen flickers to life.

Logan: Happy New Year, babe! Miss you! *champagne glass emoji* *kiss emoji*

My heart aches at the message, sent one minute after midnight. I was supposed to be with Logan last night at the New Year's Eve party. He'd been so excited about it, about introducing me to his friends and co-workers. I'd been excited too—sort of.

I love seeing Logan all amped up and bursting with joy, but there's been a steady current of guilt flowing through me the past couple months. I've been keeping secrets from him. Some pretty big ones… like what I do for a living… and my real name.

I keep meaning to tell him, to come clean, but I can't stand the idea of disappointing him, and I don't want to risk him breaking up with me. This is the longest relationship I've ever been in and, well, I really like him. Maybe even love him.

"Text from the new boyfriend?" Victoria's eyes haven't left the road, but she's got some freaky good peripheral vision.

"Not really that new anymore," I admit. "It's been six months."

"Does that mean you've told him?"

I groan as I slide down my seat and bang my head against the headrest. "No…"

"Why not?" She laughs. "We're FBI, not the CIA. We're allowed to tell people."

"I know, it's just…" I suck in a deep breath and let it all out in a whoosh. "It's complicated."

Logan and I met randomly at a nightclub. He was out with some friends for a birthday party. I was looking to scratch an itch. We danced for a bit, made out in a dark corner, and then he invited me back to his place.

I don't usually give my real name to one-off hookups. I certainly don't tell them I'm an FBI agent. It generates way too many questions and always kills the mood. The thing is, I never expected Logan to become anything more than a one-night stand.

One hookup turned into two, and before I knew it, we were getting breakfast together, then dinner, then going on dates to the theatre. Then all of a sudden, I have a boyfriend and we've been together for six months and I still haven't told him that my name isn't really Jay.

"What does he think you do then?" Victoria asks.

"He thinks I'm a business analyst," I mutter as shame washes over me. It's the line I give people when I don't want to get into it. Saying I'm an FBI agent usually gets me one of two reactions: uncomfortable questions about whether I've killed anyone or how many people I've arrested; or accusations that I'm what's wrong with modern society and how the police should be defunded. "Business analyst" makes people's eyes glaze over.

"But you're going to tell him at some point, right? You can't keep lying to him forever."

"I'm not lying." Except I am. "I'm not lying on purpose."

Victoria doesn't need to look at me to make me squirm.

"I don't want to be lying to him. Fuck. I'm going to tell him! Eventually…"

"Right."

I huff and reread Logan's message before typing out a response.

Jay: Sorry I missed New Year"s. I'm on my way home. Meet you at your place?

It's six in the morning so I don't expect Logan to be awake yet, especially after a night of partying. But to my surprise, the three little dots appear at the bottom of my screen. I sit up straighter at the jolt of excitement that rushes through me, holding my breath in anticipation.

"Seriously?" Victoria shakes her head. "It's like you're not even a seasoned, tough FBI agent who just took down some of the most dangerous criminals in the world."

"Shut up."

Logan's message comes through a second later.

Logan: YAY! I'll be here waiting…

Then a selfie of him in bed, his reddish-brown hair all mussed and his brilliant green eyes blurry from sleep. His shoulder and arm are bare and he's clutching the bed covers to his chest. He looks absolutely adorable and I want to turn on the sirens so we can floor it back to New York.

"You need to tell the guy," Victoria says, tone all serious. "If you like him this much, you need to tell him. Soon."

She's right. I do. I just don't want to ruin one of the best things that's happened to me in a long time. Logan's easy-going and carefree. He sees the bright side of every situation and thinks the best of everyone he meets. He's quick to laugh, generous with his smiles, and isn't afraid of being goofy. He's a breath of fresh air after coming home from chasing down bad guys all day.

But if I want this relationship to last, to be real, I need to tell him. No matter how hard it is. No matter the consequences. Logan deserves the truth.

Victoria drops me off at my place in Jersey City. It's a one-bedroom apartment in an older building. If I had a normal job, I'd be bragging about how much space I have compared to one of those newer condos. Except I don't use most of the space, despite having lived here for years. My mattress sits on the floor in the bedroom. The living room is outfitted with a couch that's older than I am and a folding chair that doubles as a coffee table. My fridge is so empty, it doesn't even hold condiments.

I work a lot and at irregular hours, so I'm rarely at home. Decorating always feels more like accumulating stuff I don't need and will throw out when I eventually move. I've never seen the point before, until Logan.

Logan's place is small, but it's warm and cozy and feels like home in a way I can't quite explain. And right now, I'm eager to get back there.

I only stay at my place long enough to grab a shower and switch out my dirty laundry for clean clothes. I lock my gun and badge in the gun safe, then I'm out the door again.

It's mid-afternoon by the time I'm pressing Logan's button on his building's intercom.

"Hello? Who is it?"

I smile at the lilt in his voice and imagine the put-upon expression he must be wearing. He never used to ask who was at the door and just buzzed them right in. I've berated him a few times about safety and security before he promised he wouldn't do it again.

"It's Jay." I almost choke on the name.

"Jay who?"

My smile grows wider. The little brat. He's going to pay for that.

"Jay, your boyfriend."

"Hmm, which one? I'm seeing a few guys with that name."

Jealousy surges in me even though I know it's unwarranted. Logan isn't seeing anyone else. He's too much of a romantic to do that. And besides, I'm an FBI agent. I would know if my boyfriend had a side piece.

"The one who's going to fuck you silly when I get up there," I growl, pitching my voice low.

"Oh! Well, in that case, come on up!"

The door unlocks, and after I go through, I take a moment to make sure it closes behind me. I take the stairs two at a time, too impatient to merely walk up them. Logan's waiting for me in his doorway, wearing fleecy pajama pants with reindeer on them and a loose, thin, tank top. His hair is still standing on end like he hasn't bothered to brush it all day, and I think that's a smudge of chocolate on the corner of his lip.

Without breaking my stride, I step into his personal space, pushing him backward so his door can swing shut on its own. I drop my bag to the floor as I scoop him up in my arms and lap at that bit of chocolate. His squeal quickly turns into a moan when I feed the chocolate back to him with my tongue.

God, I've missed him. I didn't realize how much until right this second. Logan's all warm and pliant in my arms. He tastes deliciously sweet with a hint of tartness, like he's been snacking on chocolate-covered kiwis.

I drink him in, refilling the reservoir that's been running low after more than a week apart. He seems just as hungry for me, scrabbling to undo my winter coat and unwind the scarf from around my neck.

I leave a trail of clothes and shoes from the front door to Logan's bed in the corner, then we both tumble down on the mattress. We're both panting by now, and Logan's cheeks are adorably flushed.

"Oh, you're this Jay." His voice is raspy and his eyes are bright with teasing. "Not the one I expected."

"I guess that means you don't want this?" I growl and shift so I can slide my knee between his thighs. I grind myself into him, my dick hardening at his hip while he hardens against my thigh.

Logan's lashes flutter as he arches up against me. His head falls back and I lick a deliciously salty stipe up his neck. "No, no, I definitely want this."

"Good," I whisper into his ear, gratified when he shivers. "Because I'm giving it to you whether you want it or not."