by Ella Frank
“That day was horrible,” Jill said.
“I agree.”
“Mom was—she was so hateful that day.”
Tate blinked, but braced himself against the mention of the woman he no longer allowed himself to think about.
“She said things I never imagined she would say to either of us. And it was such a shock that I think we all just blindly followed. Me and Dad.”
Yeah, but Dad came and found me years ago, he thought. Where the fuck were you? He ground his back molars together and told himself to hear her out, not fly off the handle. She was getting there. She was explaining. Or at least trying to.
“That day you left with Logan,” she said so quietly he almost missed it. “It was as though you died.”
Tate flinched, and when more tears rolled down her face, she gulped back a big breath of air, the pain evident in her expression as she struggled with her words.
“He said something before he left the house that day—”
“Who did?” Tate asked, his eyes zeroing in on her. Does she mean Dad?
“Logan. You’d left, and he was standing there in the middle of a room of people who hated him, but he didn’t care. I’ll never forget it. He fought for you. Stood up for you. Told Mom that he hoped when she looked at the empty chair at her dinner table that afternoon that she realized what she’d done and would come to her senses.”
Wow… How did I not know that? Then Tate remembered how he’d told Logan he needed space later that same day, and hell, he wanted to kick his own ass right then for that.
“I’d never seen Dad as mad as he got that day. When Logan finally left, he told Diana to get out, and then he just…lost it. Told Mom she was way out of line and how dare she kick you out of their home just because they didn’t understand the choice you’d made. He went postal, and she shut down.”
Tate didn’t know what to say, so he reached for his coffee and brought it to his lips. When he took a sip and it was lukewarm, he grimaced and put it back on the table.
“It was ugly after that. Sad and depressing to see them. It really was like a death in the family. Mom blamed Logan, Dad blamed Mom, and I blamed everyone. Eventually, it seemed like it was easier for everyone to stop talking. So we did.”
Tate knew that part. He remembered all too well how he’d tried to contact them and all of their phones had been disconnected. What he hadn’t realized was not only had they stopped talking to him, they’d stopped talking to each other.
“Then we got the call from Diana,” Jill said, her voice now sounding like a distant echo of itself. Tate looked off over her shoulder, unable to meet her eyes while discussing this topic, because he knew exactly what call she was referring to. It was the call that Logan should’ve gotten. The call that he’d been lying in a hospital bed. Dying. But instead, they’d called the family who had decided life would be easier for them if he wasn’t in it. To this day, it still infuriated him.
“Mom was beside herself,” Jill said, cutting into his thoughts. “Convinced this was God’s way of bringing you back to her. Bringing us all back together. We were there every day.”
Tate’s hands clenched where they were on the table, this conversation now making him want to punch something. “Logan was there every day too. Something that none of you seemed to give a shit about until Dad’s guilt made him track him down. Where was your shame then, Jill? Where was your compassion when he was stuck in a waiting room wondering if I was dead or alive?” He shook his head. “I expected better from you, out of all them.”
“I know,” Jill said, and had the good grace to lower her eyes. “I can’t begin to imagine how you must feel. How he felt—”
“No. You can’t. Because that would require you actually caring about me. Loving me.”
Jill’s eyes flew up and she worried her top lip with her teeth. “That’s not fair.”
“Fuck fair,” Tate said, his hurt and fury finally coming to a boiling point. “How has any of this been fair? So I fell in love with someone you didn’t approve of. How is that worse than standing by and letting your own brother be disowned without saying a word?”
Jill shrank back in her seat and said softly, “It’s not.”
“No, it’s not. At least I was brave enough to say how I felt. To love who I wanted to love regardless of the opinions of closed-minded, bigoted people. It’s just disappointing to know those people are your family. I’m sorry, were my family.”
Tate slid out of the booth and got to his feet, too irate to sit any longer. But before he could go anywhere, Jill reached out and took hold of his wrist. When he stopped and looked down at her, she said, “Please don’t go.”
Tate steeled himself against the regret and sadness he saw in her eyes and said, “Why should I stay?”
Jill’s chin quivered, and as tears began to spill down her cheeks, she said, “Because I need to tell you that I’m sorry. I’m sorry I broke your heart. I’m sorry I wasn’t brave like you.” She brought a hand over her mouth and whispered, “God, Tate. I’m so sorry.”
As he stood there, staring down at Jill, he thought of Logan that morning urging him to call his sister and the belief he had in Tate that he would always be the bigger person. The better person.
So, not wanting to disappoint himself or Logan, Tate reached out and swiped his thumb over his sister’s cheek, brushing away a tear, and then he said, “Okay. I’ll stay.”
LATER THAT AFTERNOON, Logan was sitting in his office with the door shut, enjoying the peace and quiet he’d managed to find in the last half-hour. After calming Robbie down enough that he was able to sit in on the rest of the meeting with Priest in silence, Logan was exhausted.
Jesus, the two of them were like oil and water, and while it was amusing, there was no way Logan wanted Priest scared off because Robbie was acting like…well, Robbie. And to top it all off, the Bianchis had left the meeting without budging from their original position: Vanessa was adamant that she was innocent.
It was frustrating and a little terrifying to have someone so set in their ways that they couldn’t see the upside to telling a white lie to save their own ass. But she didn’t want to lie. I guess I can’t fault her on her morals, Logan thought, and sighed as he leaned back in his chair. But it sure as hell put them in a difficult position.
As he twirled the pen through his fingers, he thought about Tate and wondered how his morning had gone. All day he’d been on Logan’s mind. What he was doing and whom he was meeting. And he’d had to put the phone away several times, fighting back the urge to call and make sure he was okay.
He was about to shut his eyes for five minutes when his cell phone started to vibrate on the desk. And as if he’d known Logan had been thinking about him, Tate’s name appeared on his caller ID.
Logan tossed his pen down, smiled, and then hit accept. “Good afternoon. I was just thinking about you.”
Aren’t I always, Logan thought as he turned his chair around so he was facing the large windows that flanked the back wall of his office. I definitely need to make sure my new office has a view like this—or better.
“Is that right?” Tate said. “You mustn’t be very busy if you have the time to sit around and think about me.”
“There’s nothing more worthy of my time than thoughts revolving around you. Unless, of course, they’re inappropriate thoughts about you.”
Tate laughed, and Logan smiled. It was a nice sound to hear. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been worried about how this meeting with Jill would affect Tate. But from what he was hearing, he seemed…okay?
“Now that, I’ll never complain about,” Tate said, and Logan could picture the smile he could hear in his voice.
“You at work already?” Logan asked, as he shut his eyes and let Tate’s voice wash over him.
“Yeah, I, uhh, just got here a few minutes ago.”
Logan’s eyes opened at that piece of information, and he glanced at his watch. “Really?”
“Yeah, I spent
a few hours talking with Jill.”
Logan wasn’t sure why that made his pulse race. But whenever Tate’s estranged family was the topic of conversation, his anxiety level went off the fucking charts. The fact that Tate had spent hours talking to Jill instead of the thirty minutes he would guess it would take to tell someone to fuck off bothered Logan.
What if she’d tried to convince him that their relationship was wrong? What if she’d told him that family was more important than he was? Would Tate believe her? It wasn’t like there was anything tying Tate to him. And it wasn’t like they hadn’t tried to come between them before.
And yeah, Logan was aware that he was being overly paranoid and probably a whole lot of crazy, but fuck. It wasn’t like he didn’t have just cause. Taking in a breath, he told himself to be cool about this. “And how’d that go?”
“Umm, it was difficult,” Tate said.
Okay…
“She apologized.”
Come on, Tate, Logan thought, as he got to his feet and headed to the window. As he stared out at the traffic below, Logan rested his forehead on the glass, willing Tate to say more. Hoping he’d give him some kind of indication that he was okay. That they were. Or that he wasn’t. Either way. Just give him something.
“Logan?”
“Yeah?” he said, his breath catching as he held it.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me what you said to my parents when my mom threw us out of their house?”
Logan thought back to that day, one of the worst in his life, and racked his brain trying to recall exactly what he’d said. He was pretty sure it involved some curse words over how stupid he thought they’d acted. But he couldn’t quite pinpoint the exact phrase. “I don’t know. I was pretty angry. I’m sure it wasn’t anything nice.” There was silence as he waited for some kind of response, and when Tate said nothing, Logan added, “They’d just kicked you out of your home. I wanted to shake them up. Remind them that they were hurting the greatest man I’d ever met. If I said something I shouldn’t have, I’m—”
“Logan,” Tate said.
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
Logan turned to rest his shoulders up against the window and let out a sigh of relief, not having realized that was exactly what he needed to hear right then. “I love you too.”
“And I’m sorry that after you did that for me, I pushed you away the very same day.”
Logan shut his eyes, imagining Tate’s face in perfect clarity. God, he wished he was there with him so he could touch him. “You have nothing to be sorry about. That was a long time ago.”
“It was. But it doesn’t mean I can’t feel regret over the way I acted back then.”
“Well, you shouldn’t. There was a lot going on in your life, and if that’s the only thing you have to apologize for, then you’re doing just fine, Mr. Morrison.”
Tate chuckled, and after a few seconds he asked, “Do you think we could go up to the cabin this weekend?”
Logan opened his eyes and walked back to his desk to check his calendar. When he saw nothing he couldn’t reschedule, he said, “Sure. What were you thinking? Friday through Sunday?”
“Yeah. I only have Amelia this last weekend and then I’ll have to work the first few with Robbie, so I might as well take advantage of it. Plus, I want to talk to you more about Jill and some of the stuff she said, and I think I’d like to go up there and unwind.”
Logan could appreciate that. It was quiet out at their cabin, and this time of the year was perfect. The beach and lake were great if you wanted a swim, or they could just hang out. Either way, if Tate wanted to get away, then there was no way Logan wasn’t about to pack up the car and go.
“Sounds good to me. We can leave Friday morning, if you like.”
“That’s perfect. You’re still coming down to the bar tonight, right?”
“Of course,” Logan said. “You don’t think I’d miss Robbie’s first night, do you? I plan to test his skills.”
“Logan…”
“Please, as if you aren’t thinking the same thing. That guy has it coming.”
“Mhmm,” Tate said, and Logan could hear the grin there. “How’d it go with him and Priestley after the little argument this morning?”
Logan thought back to the meeting and felt a sly smile stretching his mouth. “I think I’ll let you ask Robbie that.”
“That bad?”
“Well, all I’ll say is…”
“Yeah?”
“Please wait for me to get there before you ask him.” When Tate’s loud laugh came through the phone, Logan said, “Promise me.”
“I promise.”
“Good. Then I’ll see you at eight.”
“See you then.”
When Tate ended the call, Logan dropped his head back on his seat, realizing the weight of his worry over Tate’s meeting must’ve been what was making him feel so tired, because suddenly he was wide awake and couldn’t wait for the clock to hit eight so he could head down to The Popped Cherry and have a drink with his bartender.
Chapter Twenty-One
“WHO’S THE DEER in the headlights tonight, Morrison?”
Tate glanced up from the three shot glasses he’d just put on the counter in front of Robbie, and spotted Hoyt taking his regular seat on the stool at the end of the bar. It was about two hours into basic show-and-tell with Robbie, and with happy hour now underway, The Popped Cherry was starting to fill.
He flashed a grin in Hoyt’s direction as he stepped around Robbie, grabbed a glass, and pulled a pint of Guinness for the middle-aged construction manager of one of the building renovations down the street. He slid the dark stout across to Hoyt and said, “He’s going to be replacing Amelia soon. Name’s Robbie. Tonight’s his first night.”
Hoyt grabbed a handful of peanuts and popped them in his mouth before he raised his glass to Robbie. “Good luck to ya. At least you’re starting him off on a slow night.”
“This is slow?” Robbie said as he pushed three shots of Patrón to a man who was handing over cash. Once he’d given him the change, Robbie turned to face Tate, who was leaning against the counter. “It’s close to full in here.”
“Of course,” Hoyt said. “It’s happy hour. But this is nothing compared to the weekends.”
As Robbie’s eyes widened, Tate chuckled, because Hoyt was right. This was relatively slow for them, which was why he’d asked Robbie in. To have a test run of sorts.
“You’re going to do fine,” Tate said as he strolled over to Robbie and handed him a small black bar towel with The Popped Cherry logo on it. “Hold on to this, though—you’re going to need it. I’m going to work with you tonight while Amelia runs everything else. We’ll concentrate on getting you up to speed with the specials on the menu, since you’re already familiar with most of the basics.”
“Of course he’s familiar with those. Any self-respecting bartender knows the names of the men they’re willing to put in their mouth. Right, Tate?” As Logan’s voice found him, Tate looked up to see him coming through the side access door that led to their loft.
It had just turned eight and Logan was right on time, and damn he looked fucking unreal.
He’d obviously arrived a little earlier, because he’d changed out of the suit he’d worn to the office and was now wearing distressed jeans that outlined his legs perfectly—and the denim lovingly cupped what was between those thighs in a way that was close to indecent. But that wasn’t all he had going for him—with Logan, it never was. He’d paired the jeans with a grey Henley, and had left the top buttons undone. And Tate could see a glimpse of the hair that smattered the broad chest filling out the material.
With his glasses gone and contacts in, Logan’s eyes were an arresting blue, and the thing that topped off the entire look and made Tate go from having a twitching dick to a full hard-on was the leather jacket Logan wore—it was Tate’s. And it made his possessive side real happy to know that Logan was wrapped up in something that s
melled like him.
When Logan caught his bold perusal, he swiped his tongue along his lower lip, and Tate was, as always, amazed at how effortlessly sexy the man was.
“That’s right,” Tate said as he strolled down to where Logan had stopped, needing to get closer.
“Hey there, Logan,” Hoyt said as he slid the bowl of nuts his way.
“Oh no, you go ahead. I’ll eat some later tonight.” When Logan looked over at him and winked, Tate reached across the bar, took the back of Logan’s neck, and pulled him in to greet him.
As their mouths connected, a groan left Logan’s throat and his fingers came up to hold Tate’s chin as he returned the greeting. When the choice to either stop or let things get out of hand became a real concern, Tate made himself put a halt to things. They would have this coming weekend to explore that.
“Evening,” he said against Logan’s lips, and just like that, he knew his night would be infinitely better than his day.
“Evening. I see your victim is here, awaiting his trial.”
Tate grinned as he released Logan, and they both glanced over to where Robbie stood staring at the two of them like his brain had just exploded from what he’d witnessed—which was far more than he’d ever seen them do before. Logan chuckled, and the low sound of it in his ear had Tate turning back to face him.
“Why don’t you come and order a drink from our newest employee, Mr. Mitchell?” Tate straightened behind the bar as Logan regarded Robbie, who suddenly started to fiddle with the towel in his hands. Tate couldn’t help his laughter at that, because Logan sure had a way of making a guy nervous. He could attest to that.
As Logan strolled down to Robbie, he gestured to the other end of the bar farthest away from the crowd then headed over there to take a seat. The smile Logan aimed at the dazed Robbie was full of devilry as he picked up a tiny black straw from one of the glasses on the counter and bit down. “Hello, Robbie. I think it’s time for a little payback. Don’t you?”
