Page 19

I’ve lost teammates as well, so I know how it sucks. “Sorry, man. That’s rough.”

“It is.” He leans on the railing, looking out at the sea as I stand beside him, spinning the bottle of beer in a palm.

“After it happened, Scotty and I both went off the deep end. I turned to drinking and pills and fast cars and—” He stops there, shaking his head.

“Survivor’s guilt, you know? I had a lot of shame around being the one who fell in. I got to a pretty dark place.”

“I get it.” Maybe more than he knows. “What happened to Scott?”

Logan studies my face in the moonlight. I’m self-conscious and twitchy, more keyed-up than I was on a recon last fall scouting a terrorist cave. No food or bathroom breaks for thirty-six hours, and I still calmer than I do now.

“Scotty,” he says carefully, “used sex as a Band-Aid.” He watches my face for a reaction. “Sex with men.”

Swallowing hard, I look down at the beer in my hand. It’s sweaty and cold, or maybe that’s me. “It was only that once.”

That’s the first time I’ve said it out loud.

I don’t even say it, not really. That’s what a fucking chickenshit I am.

But Logan knows. “Hey.”

When I look up, he’s holding his palms like he’s letting me know he’s unarmed.

The beer in one hand is his only defense, but he doesn’t seem poised to hit me like that.

“Scott wasn’t big on details, so I don’t know much,” he says.

“He was drunk off his ass when he started babbling this story about some hot Navy SEAL named TJ. One of several Spec Ops guys he hooked up with that summer—I don’t know if that makes it better or worse. ”

I don’t know, either, so I don’t say anything. I just stare at the sea, not sure why I came here tonight. What am I wanting from Logan? What is the best possible outcome?

He must sense that I don’t have a clue what to say.

Tossing a life ring, he keeps right on talking.

“I don’t think he blabbed to a whole lot of people.

The two of us were tight after that mission went wrong.

Not in that way.” He says it again, like he might not have been clear the first time.

Like he thinks that’s something I need to hear.

“He’s kinda like the kid brother I never had.

He’s married now, in case you’re wondering.

To a guy. I doubt I’d have put all the pieces together if you and Sara hadn’t shown up. ”

My heart hammers inside my skull. I hate that he’s probably judging me. That I’m talking to Logan instead of the woman I love.

“I’m not a fucking homophobe.” Why did I blurt that?

But my stupid-ass mouth keeps going. “My cousin, who’s basically my brother, is married to a guy.

They’re both fucking awesome, raising three kids and building a successful business together.

” I can’t seem to stop talking, spitting confessions that Sara deserves more than Logan.

“The thing with Scott—it wasn’t some kind of, I don’t know—spite fuck or whatever.

Some straight-guy rage screw, if that’s even a thing.

” Stop talking, Trent. For the love of God, stop talking .

“And I don’t think I’m gay. I’m fucking crazy about Sara.

The women I slept with over the years—when Sara and I were split up?

They didn’t mean anything, but I still fucking wanted them, and that wasn’t fake or put on. ”

I need to shut my idiot mouth. I’m only digging myself in deeper .

But Logan regards me with gentle bemusement. “You don’t have to define it, you know.”

I scoff and stare out at the ocean. “Easy for you to say, with your laidback mom and super-chill stepdad.” Shit, that was awful. “I’m sorry. Fuck, I didn’t mean you’re lucky for losing your father?—”

“I know what you meant.” Logan sounds kind instead of disgruntled, which just goes to show he’s a much better man than I am.

Drawing another deep breath, I stare at a dark pair of fishing boats bobbing along the horizon. They look like they’re on the same wavelength, but my seafaring eyes can tell they’re miles from each other.

“Beck is my cousin,” I tell him. “His mother died, so my mother raised him.” I take a swallow of beer for the strength to keep going.

“He’s a Navy vet who did three tours in the Middle East. That bastard earned a fucking Navy Cross and two Silver Stars.

He’s a badass, you know? Way tougher than I am, and so fucking smart. ”

“Sounds like a standup guy.”

“Yeah.” I turn to face Logan, hoping he hears what I’m telling him. “When he came out as gay, the whole family disowned him.”

“Shit.” Logan frowns. “Even your mom?”

“Yep.” God, I hate the flicker of judgement I just saw in his eyes.

“Maybe if my father hadn’t been there, spewing all his homophobic crap, she might’ve handled it differently.

I don’t know. But the fact remains that my mom hasn’t talked to her nephew—a guy she basically raised—since the summer he headed to boot camp. ”

“Fuck, man. That sucks.”

“It does.” I hate this sick feeling inside me.

“His kids are the coolest and she doesn’t even know them.

And his husband—” I chuckle, thinking of Cam.

“He’s a vet, too, and works for their private security firm.

But he’s only part time since he’s also a youth pastor.

He’s insanely devoted to their kids—all three of them came from an abusive home and—” I stop myself there, shaking my head.

“I don’t know why the fuck I’m telling you this. ”

“I do.”

Fucking Jarhead. Of course he’s a know-it-all. “You planning to enlighten me?”

“You want me to?”

“Yeah.” I hate how much I want that.

“Well,” he says, leaning back on the rail. “You’ve been on this straight-and-narrow path for most of your life.” He gives me a knowing look. “ Straight being the operative word there.”

Clenching my jaw, I don’t give him the satisfaction of a response.

But Logan doesn’t need it. “You’ve also got some not-so-straight feelings that you don’t know what to do with. But you learned from your family that’s bad and wrong and sinful , so you shoved all that shit down until you choked on it.”

I can’t look at Logan right now. I knock back the last of my beer, feeling shaky and unsettled.

“I don’t think I’m gay. I want Sara so badly I’m insane with it.

She’s—” I can’t even find the right words.

“I’ve never known anyone like her. She’s beautiful and kind but also sexy as hell. I can’t stay away from her.”

“I know,” he says softly. “I saw you together, remember? You can’t fake that kind of chemistry.”

“So what the fuck am I?” And why am I asking a guy I just met?

“Bi? Hetromantically bisexual? Hetro-flexible? Your label is yours to choose or not choose, Trent. Nobody else gets to put that on you.” Logan’s so comfortable talking about this. I’m so fucking jealous it hurts.

“I don’t have a fucking clue what I am.” I set down my bottle on the table behind me, turning to face him at last. “That’s the God’s honest truth.

I’ve never really considered it because I wouldn’t let myself go there.

I couldn’t even think about it. I loved Sara. I still love Sara, so much it hurts.”

“So what’s the problem?”

He honestly doesn’t get it, does he? I’m not even sure I can explain it.

“When you grow up like we do, there’s a formula you follow. Fall in love with someone of the opposite sex. That’s a given, they don’t even say it.” I hate how my hands start to tremble. “You get married, have babies, and grow old together. It’s all Sara’s talked about since we were kids.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Logan drains his beer and sets the empty bottle beside mine. “She’s an educated woman. She has hobbies and interests. Friends who are sexually adventurous.” A smile tugs one edge of his mouth. “She’s got a wild streak herself, as you may have noticed.”

“I noticed.” Maybe not until now. Maybe Sara herself didn’t know. “But that still doesn’t change the fact that Sara’s life goals are the same. She still wants a husband and kids and the perfect fucking rocking-chair life.”

Logan cocks his head. “I’ve seen lots of different sex furniture,” he says, “but what is a fucking rocking chair?”

“God, you’re a dick.” I can’t stop the smile that’s jerking one edge of my mouth. “You know that, don’t you?”

“Guests find me charming.” He leans back on the railing and gives me his cocky-ass grin. “Reviews call me ‘utterly enchanting.’”

“You’re utterly something, all right.” I hate how at-ease he seems in his body. In his life that’s so different from mine.

I hate how his mouth curves up in that confident smile.

That mouth I watched moving between Sara’s legs.

A mouth I want badly to kiss.

I move without thinking, emboldened by beer and maybe a keen lack of sleep. But beer’s no excuse, since I’ve only had one, and a Navy SEAL trains to survive on mere minutes of sleep.

So why are my lips brushing Logan’s? Why is his hand gliding over my back, coming to rest on my shoulder?

It’s barely a kiss—just a two-second crush of my mouth against his—but I leap back like he’s lit me on fire.

“Fuck.” I back away quickly, bumping my spine on the rail. “I didn’t mean that to happen.”

“It’s okay.” He looks dazed as well, which makes this both better and worse.

“It’s not okay.” Jesus Christ, what a mess. “I’ve never cheated on Sara. Never .”

“That wasn’t cheating.” Logan tilts his head. “Aren’t you technically split up?”

“I don’t know what we are.” Dammit, I need to get out of here. What was I thinking coming to Logan’s like this?

Dragging my hands through my hair, I have to admit that I knew this might happen. Deep down on some level, I wanted it to.

I needed to see if what happened with Scott was a one-time thing.

But it wasn’t. That’s evident now. Maybe I’ve always known on some level.

The thought sends me spinning, reeling back toward the door. I push through his living room, toppling a tall pile of papers on a table. I don’t even stop to pick them up.

Throwing open the door, I sprint down the stairs, racing toward God knows where. I don’t stop running until I hit the beach.

When my feet hit the sand, I drop to my ass and cover my face with my hands.

Now what?

What the fuck do I do?

Somebody tell me, for God’s sake .

A nightbird squawks from a palm tree nearby, a sound that’s a whole lot like laughter.

“Fuck off,” I mutter, annoyed with the bird, with the breeze that keeps whipping my t-shirt around.

With my own stupid heart most of all.