Page 50 of Until Tomorrow (Love Doesn’t Cure All: The Ashwood Duet #1)

Elliot

One last hookup wasn’t a bad thing. Hell, there were no rules that said I couldn’t fuck around while I dated.

I could guarantee it wasn’t at all what Rhett meant, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Instead of doing anything with that app, I called an old hookup and fucked him three nights in a row—not that Josh minded.

He was always down for anything as long as his safe word was involved.

Not that he needed one. I just needed to fuck Logan out of my system, and blond-haired, dark-eyed Josh was the best alternative I had. I wasn’t a bad man. Josh knew my issues. I used him the same way he used me to fuck his ex out of his system. Our arrangement worked, even if it wasn’t healthy.

Doing my best not to wake him, I worked to detangle from Josh.

The man was all limbs and a need to cuddle at night—not that I normally minded.

I let him sleep as I went to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

I didn’t have much on my plate, but when I had a rare day off, I liked to get out and do shit. I wasn’t a homebody by any means.

“You are the worst at sneaking out of bed,” Josh muttered as he wandered into the bathroom with me. Blond hair stuck out everywhere, and his eyes were barely open as he yawned.

“If you didn’t use me as a human pillow, this wouldn’t be an issue,” I scoffed.

He took a piss while I trimmed my beard back.

It wasn’t lost on me how very domestic the whole thing was.

This was what normal couples did— morning routines together.

This wasn’t so bad. I could get used to shit like this.

I wanted this domestic crap. That thought gave me pause. Fuck, Rhett was right. I did owe it to myself to get out of my own way and find someone.

“I’ll let myself out,” he said, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Call me if you want to do this again.”

“Will do.” I wouldn’t. No, I’d be losing his number. It was the smart thing to do.

When I was alone, I grabbed my phone off the side table and sat on the edge of my bed.

I’d been avoiding that stupid app and all its implications.

A part of me understood that by doing this, I was accepting the fact that Logan could never want me.

Some part of my masochistic heart had been holding onto a shred of fictional hope, but I needed to let go of that.

I opened Tumble and stopped on the first profile I saw.

Journey81.

Full pictures upon later request… discretion and all that. I wasn’t unfamiliar with that concept. A lot of professionals did it. That piqued my interest in what he did for a living.

I didn’t bother reading the rest of the profile and opted for scrolling through the faceless pictures to at least give myself an idea of what I might be getting into.

In the first, he wore a well-tailored suit.

That boded well for his ability to dress himself.

It drove me nuts when a guy couldn’t put on a suit that fucking fit him right.

Hell, I once went out with a guy who showed up in a sports jersey.

He also chewed with his mouth open—first time in my life I ever contemplated murder on a date.

The second was dressy but casual—button-up with the sleeves rolled up and dress pants at some kind of park.

The last one was a boat picture, and damn, he had a great body.

The coral swimsuit looked familiar, but I couldn’t place where.

The cutoff picture showed enough of the bottom half of his face to tell me he had a great smile.

I liked his smile. And the way he rubbed the back of his neck showed off a tattoo on his wrist.

The words freedom and fear separated by a double-sided arrow .

Freedom above fear.

I froze.

I knew that tattoo. I had the same fucking tattoo in the same fucking spot. Logan and I had gotten them when we graduated high school—on the inside of our left wrists, so he could hide it under a watch if needed for work.

I saw red.

That cheating motherfucker.

Slamming my phone down, I rushed through getting dressed. I was going to kill him. And then I’d bring his stupid ass right back to life so I could kill him all over again.

That motherfucker.

“Sir!” the secretary yelled after me as I stormed through the law offices where Logan worked. “Sir, do you have an appointment?”

I ignored her. I was fucking livid. That bastard. All I could think of was Eva and how she didn’t deserve this shit.

I strode right into Logan’s office, slamming the door hard enough to make the blinds rattle. My rage caught him off guard while he hung up the phone.

“Elliot—”

“Are you cheating on Eva?” I demanded loudly. I practically threw my phone on his desk with his profile pulled up. His eyes widened with panic. “I swear to God, Logan, if you’re cheating on Eva, I don’t care if we’re fucking friends, I’ll drag your ass up to the roof and push you myself!”

“Be quiet!” he snapped, shooting out of his chair when the door reopened.

“Is everything okay?” The secretary poked her head inside. “Do you need me to call security?”

“No, no!” Logan rushed to say. He waved her off as he stepped in front of me. “It’s fine, really.”

“It’s not fine—”

“It’s fine, Elizabeth,” he damn near yelled over me. “I’ve got this. But thank you. Please, shut the door. Now. ”

“ What the fuck is wrong with you?” I continued when we were alone. “Who the fuck is she, Logan? I swear to God, I’ll fucking kill you. This is bullshit and—”

One hand clamped down hard over my mouth while the other painfully fisted in my hair, dragging me close. The desperation in his expression was wild. I tried to free myself, but his hold on me was vicious.

“What are your search settings?” Logan demanded in a hiss. What? I shook my head with confusion. “Men looking for what? What do you search for, Elliot?”

Men looking for men.

I deflated instantly, my eyes widening.

There was no way…

He must’ve seen the recognition on my face because he took several steps back. The discomfort in his demeanor wasn’t lost on me.

Holy shit.

“Logan, are you—”

“This is still my place of work,” he replied over me. “The café at the intersection has a standing reservation under my name. I’ll meet you there as soon as I’ve done damage control here. Fuck. ”

He straightened his jacket and fussed with the small details while I just stared at him. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. There was no way Logan was…

Fuck, I couldn’t even think the sentence. That was how ridiculous the sentiment was.

“Logan—”

“Just go, Elliot,” he said over me. There was no room for arguing in his voice. I just nodded stupidly because I had no idea what the hell I was supposed to say.

I left, my legs carrying me on autopilot.

I gave the wary secretary a slight wave as an apology, not trusting my tongue if I started talking.

Outside, I stopped on the sidewalk and just stared at the sky.

I looked for cameras, for two suns, for alien ships, for…

. something to indicate that I was out of my fucking mind. I had to be.

There was no way in hell Logan was interested in men.

There couldn’t be.