Элла Франк - Try

Logan stepped away quickly zipping his pants back up, before looking over to where Tate was standing. Tate watched him run a hand through his hair as a frown formed on his face, and the atmosphere in the small, dark room changed from sex to serious.

And with them both staring at one another, Tate asked, “So…what’s your truth, Logan?”

Logan stared at him so intently that Tate wondered what was going on inside his head before he replied, “I think you are,” leaving Tate speechless.

Logan had left the bar not long after he and Tate had each agreed that they needed a night off—a night to breathe and reflect. Or in Logan’s case, as he sat on the balcony with his feet propped up on the table and half a bottle of whiskey, he needed a night to get fully loaded. Resting his head back on the chair, he stared out at the scattered lights in the buildings surrounding him.

Tate Morrison. Logan hadn’t been lying. There was nothing easy about what he was feeling when it came to that man. Scary and surprising—yes.

He wasn’t one to give much credence to the whole love notion. Very little of it had been passed around in his life so far, and he just figured it was something people made up to make themselves feel better. That was, until Tate.

He’d managed to make Logan feel something only one other before him had, and Logan wasn’t sure if that made him happy or terrified. All he knew was that whatever it was, he needed to keep a close handle on it.

Raising the bottle, he took another sip, well on his way to the relaxed state he was craving.

Cole was also running through his head tonight. It had been a long time since he’d fought with that guy, and he hated it. They’d decided many years ago that it was neither of their faults that life had dealt them an asshole for a father, but every now and then, the old resentment came through, and Logan couldn’t help feeling pissed that he was the one their father had thrown away.

Placing the bottle down beside him, his cell phone started vibrating on the table. Reaching forward, he picked it up and saw Tate’s name flashing across the display. Sitting back in the chair, he snagged the bottle again and answered.

 Tate settled into his couch and waited for Logan to pick up. He’d been thinking about their conversation ever since Logan had left the bar earlier. A lot had been said in the few words Logan had actually spoken, and when he’d told Tate they should just meet up sometime tomorrow, Tate had known he, too, felt their relationship had shifted directions.

Glancing at the digital display on the DVR, he saw that it had just turned one fifteen. Maybe he’s sleeping? It was late. Just as he was about to hang up, the phone connected, and Logan’s voice washed over him.

“I was just thinking about you.”

Tate lay back on his couch and placed his head on the end pillow. “Should I even ask?”

There was a longer pause than he would have expected before Logan spoke.

“I don’t know. Do you want to?”

Tate knew this conversation could go one of two ways, and as much as he wanted to take the easy way out, he also wanted some answers if Logan were in the mood to give them.

“You asked me that like you expect me to say no,” Tate stated, and when there was no response, he asked, “Do you? Expect me to say no?”

“I don’t know. I think maybe I do.”

Wow, well, that’s honest, Tate thought as he closed his eyes. “Want to tell me why?” He heard something—liquid, maybe—through the phone.

“I don’t know. Maybe because a couple of weeks ago, the thought of kissing a guy disgusted you.”

Logan sounded so different compared to the way he usually did that Tate couldn’t help himself from asking, “Are you okay?”

“Not really,” he admitted.

Tate wasn’t surprised that Logan was just as blunt when it came to the hard truths as he was with the easier ones.

“Want to talk about it?”

“Does it still disgust you?”

“The thought of kissing a guy? Or the thought of kissing you?”

Silence met his question as though Logan was thinking about it. “Isn’t it one and the same?”

Tate tried to imagine himself kissing another man, other than Logan, but since he’d never even entertained the thought before, he really didn’t have an answer. “It might be, but before you, I’d never thought about it.”

There was another louder swish in his ear, and Tate knew what the sound was. Logan was drinking.

“What are you drinking?”

“Jack.”

“You’re drinking cheap whiskey? Why not the usual?”

“Because Jack was here, and he’s real nice to swallow.”

“Do you just come up with this shit? Or do you have it all written down somewhere?”

“Hmm, I should write it down, shouldn’t I?”

Again, the sound of Logan taking a drink came through the phone, and then he asked, “So…why did you think about kissing me?”

Tate couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “How much have you had to drink?”

“What?” Logan questioned. “Why?”

“I’m asking because it must have impaired your brain. I thought about it with you because you wouldn’t give me a minute not to think about it. Every time I turned around, you were there.”

Awkward and tense silence greeted Tate after the final words left his mouth.

“So, you only did it because I was always there?”

Tate wasn’t quite sure, but he was almost positive that Logan sounded unsure, on the verge of vulnerable. That was something he’d never heard in him—ever. Logan didn’t strike him as the type of guy who usually poured his heart out.

“I did it because you got in my face and made me see how irresistible you are, regardless of your gender. And Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“I still think that, but now, there’s so much more to it. I really like you.”

The laugh that met Tate’s ears was devoid of humor and full of mockery. “Really? Ninety percent of the time you’re furious with me.”

“Yeah, I know. You drive me crazy because I like you,” Tate stressed. “A lot.”

“A lot, huh?”

Closing his eyes, Tate imagined—finally—the smirk he could hear in Logan’s voice.

“A whole lot.”

“Like how much?”

Tate started laughing. “What are you? Twelve?”

“No. I’m drunk or really close.”

 “So, now is when I should ask you all the hard questions?” Tate queried only half-serious.

“Do you have hard questions?”

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

“Sure then. Fire away,” Logan replied flippantly.

Tate heard the underlying tone, and he recognized it for what it was—caution. “Okay. What really happened with Cole today?” Tate hadn’t realized he wanted to share that burden until it came out of his mouth.

Logan sighed. “You heard everything that happened.”

“Yeah,” Tate agreed, “but I only understand half of it.”

Tate wondered if this was the moment when he would see that this all meant more to him than—

“Well, you know he’s my brother, right?”

Tate let out a sigh of relief. Logan wasn’t going to shut him out. “Yeah.”

“We didn’t know that until I turned eighteen, and our father’s trust was made known to me.”

Logan stopped talking, and Tate waited.

“And I already told you that his father had an affair…well, obviously, he didn’t choose my mother and I...”

Tate couldn’t even begin to imagine how that would affect a teenager. Not only growing up without a father, but then also learning that he had a whole other family? A family that included a brother he had never known about.

“The asshole died when Cole was five, so at least I never had to meet him…” Logan revealed, and his voice trailed off, leaving Tate to wonder if he really meant it.

“Anyway, you didn’t ask all of this.”

“No. Don’t do that,” Tate finally spoke.

“Don’t do, what?”

“Don’t change the subject or assume that I don’t want to know about you. Talk to me. Tell me.” Tate held his breath and waited, hoping that Logan would open up and trust him.

“Okay. You want the details? Let’s see…my mother never married. She told me that she had fallen in love once and that the pain she’d felt from loving someone she shouldn’t far outweighed any joy, so there was no point.”

When Logan paused, Tate had to ask, “Someone she shouldn’t?”

“Yes. Sounds familiar, huh?”

“As in me? I’m hardly married, you know that.”

“But you’re straight.”

Tate swallowed and remained quiet, not really knowing what to say.

“I promised myself, I’d never have regrets, like the one she had.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that I didn’t care one way or another what you said. I was willing to try anything just to taste you once.”

Tate knew that to be the truth, but decided to ask anyway. “And how did that work out?”

“I haven’t regretted it yet,” Logan answered right away. “But that’s a different conversation. You want to know why Cole was upset. Hmm, well, I tracked Cole down the minute I got to college. He was just starting his second year, and he hated me as soon as I told him my name.”

“Well, that’s bullshit.”

“Is it? All he knew was that his father, a man he’d idolized, had left a college trust fund to another kid—his other kid. I would have hated me, too.”