Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54110 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54110 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Idiot. He was an idiot.
“All right, I can’t do it,” he said without looking at Andrew.
“Do what?”
Logan suddenly craved a cigarette. It’d been years since he’d quit, but he’d never wanted to smoke this badly.
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Us,” he said.
“I… I don’t understand.” Andrew’s voice was so small that Logan had to stop himself from looking at him. Looking at him would be a terrible fucking idea. He was weak. He could never say no whenever Andrew looked at him in that particular way, his eyes wide and lips trembling.
“I’ve been out for nearly twenty years, Drew,” he said quietly, looking at his car. “I’m not going back into the closet for you—for anyone. I’m not going to be your dirty little secret and live a lie while you act like we’re nothing to each other in public. I’m too damn old for this shit.”
There was only silence in response, heavy and tense.
Sighing, Logan headed to his car.
He didn’t get far: Andrew’s hand grabbed his arm. “But the therapist said—”
“I know,” Logan said, his back to him. Andrew’s touch seemed to be burning him even through the layers of fabric. He wanted to turn around and take him into his arms. He wanted to look into Andrew’s eyes and allow himself to feel things he had no business feeling, not for this man. “And I’m sorry. I know it’s hard for you. It’s hard for me, too. I thought I could do this, but I was wrong. We’ll only be making a bigger mistake if we continue living in each other’s pockets.” He ran a hand over his face, his voice dropping. “I can’t do it, okay? I’m not a goddamn robot, Drew.”
“But…” Andrew whispered, his voice barely audible. “But I need you.”
Logan’s chest hurt. “I need you, too,” he admitted. “But needing isn’t enough. Need and want are different things, and you don’t want this.” You don’t want me.
“And you do?” Andrew said, his grip on Logan’s arm still unrelenting, almost painful.
I shouldn’t.
Logan’s throat felt raw. He knew it was goodbye, and part of him, the part that still considered this man an extension of himself, actively rebelled against the idea, refusing to accept it.
But he knew it was the right decision. The only correct decision. Andrew wasn’t going to suddenly accept that he was interested in men—that the island had been more than just an unhealthy phase. He would always consider his feelings for Logan as something that needed to be cured. He would never agree to be in a gay relationship openly, and that would effectively force Logan back into the closet. Then there would be mutual resentment and anger, which would eventually turn their already less-than-conventional relationship into a toxic one. There was only one ending to their relationship, and it wasn’t a happy one.
This, whatever it was between them, wasn’t sustainable. It was better to end it now while his heart wasn’t completely wrecked. It was better to end it before it was too late.
It might already be too late, a voice said at the back of his mind.
Logan ignored it. It was his heart talking. He didn’t trust it, not anymore.
A clean break. They needed a clean break. And for that, he needed to push Andrew away. He needed to do something to stop Andrew from continuing to reach out to him. Something that would be impossible to mend. A definitive end.
“I don’t, either,” Logan said roughly. “I’m too old to get hung up on straight, closeted guys again. Been there, done that. Too much of a mess to bother with.”
Andrew’s grip on his arm slackened. And then it was gone.
Logan headed to his car, his heart heavy and his stomach in hard knots.
He got into the car and started the engine. He drove away, barely seeing in front of him.
He told himself he’d done the right thing.
He knew he’d done the right thing.
It did nothing to alleviate the hollow feeling in his chest.
Turn back, a voice at the back of his mind said insistently. Grab him and shackle him to you if you need to. Brand your name on him. He’s yours. Yours yours yours.
Setting his jaw, Logan shoved those thoughts away. Andrew had never been his. He couldn’t lose something he’d never really had. He couldn’t deny that part of him had expected—hoped—that Andrew would finally say that he wanted him and ask him to stay. But Andrew hadn’t.
If you love something, let it go. If it comes back, it’s yours. If it doesn’t, it never was.
Logan’s lips curled into a humorless smile. Such a trite expression. Until now, he’d never understood it.
Chapter 22
Sometimes Shawn really hated having to act as a mediator. Be the patient one. The reasonable one.
Softening Derek’s hard edges hadn’t become any easier in the six years they’d been together. Though, he wasn’t being entirely fair: Derek had mellowed out, somewhat. He wasn’t the insufferable, bossy asshole he had once been—most of the time. The problem was, there were still times Derek relapsed to his old ways and the arrogant dick Shawn had fallen in love with all those years ago was back, to Shawn’s fond aggravation. God, he loved this man, but there were still times Derek’s behavior made him roll his eyes, sigh, and just shake his head.