Page 38 of Spilled Coffee

They moved downthe fire exit steps to the parking lot, sprawled before them under an orange haze of artificial light.

A faint breeze carried the sour reek of dumpster trash and exhaust fumes from cars revving their engines in a nearby street.

They shuffled forward, Ethan’s drunken weight sagging between them, his boots scuffing lines in the gravel, until they reached Logan’s truck, which sat a few yards from the club, its shiny black outline hunched against the night.

With a grunt, they dumped him unceremoniously onto the back seat, his head lolling against the door. A loud snore rumbled out, wet and uneven, and both men froze, staring at each other before bursting into laughter.

“Jeez... what a state,” Logan said, wiping sweat from his brow, the night’s humidity sticking his shirt to his back. “He’s out of it. I wanna know how many damn shots Brick gave him.” He slammed the door with a thud, the sound echoing off the wall behind them, and sagged against it. His broad frame slumped as he ran both hands through his hair and let out a long, exhausted breath.

“He’s gonna have a head like a busted drum tomorrow, that’s for damn sure,” Devon replied, grinning wide, as he leanedcasually against the side of the truck. “Hey, c’mon, don’t sweat it,” he said softly. “He’ll sleep it off and be fine tomorrow. Hell, we’ve all been there—blackout city, waking up wondering what the fuck happened.”

Logan tilted his head, meeting Devon’s gaze. “Will he, though?” His frown deepened, voice low, fraying at the edges. “What if you’re right, what if I’ve screwed with his head?”

“Hey, this ain’t like you,” Devon said, stepping closer, hands landing on either side of Logan’s hips, pinning him against the truck door. His grin turned intense, hazel eyes glinting with a hunger Logan knew too well. “You want me to help get him back to his place?” His smile sharpened, more suggestive now. “We could get him settled, then head back to yours for a nightcap.”

Logan’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing. “Don’t! And don’t look at me like that. You know that’s not happening. We’re not going there again. I told you we’re done.”

“Oh, c’mon...” Devon kept staring, smile unwavering, his superior bulk pressing Logan harder against the truck, a forceful nudge that rattled the frame. “You know how I feel. Hell, I bet that’s why you brought him to the spa. You wanted me to see you with someone else. Dangled him in front of me to make me jealous.”

“Christ, Devon… what the hell goes on in your head?” Logan’s tone hardened, aggression flaring as he shoved Devon’s hands off his waist, palms meeting resistance against his thick wrists. “Don’t be stupid. I would never do that. You know why I brought him there, don’t twist this.” His breath came in sharp, his chest tight under his damp shirt.

“Really?” Devon’s intensity spiked, his physical presence surging—six-foot-four of honed muscle looming as he stepped closer. Before Logan could react, Devon’s lips crashed against his—aggressive, tongue probing.

Logan braced, hands pushing back, a clash of strength he knew he’d struggle to win sober let alone with Devon’s mood this raw.

“Get the hell off me!” He yanked away, summoning sober fury, and shoved hard. “I said it’s not happening, so back the fuck off.”

Devon gave a sharp bark, hands flexing as he steadied himself. “Woah—there he is, the Logan Lockwood I remember. Fire and fight, not this mopey shit over some lovesick puppy. You’ve got it bad for this kid, but you know you need a real man, right? Someone to challenge you.”

“And that’s you, is it?” Logan snapped, voice low and biting, fists clenching at his sides.

“Well….” Devon laughed, it was casual but edged. “Never seen you turn me down like this before. What… you really want him over me?” He jerked his head toward Ethan, sprawled on the seat. “C’mon, where’s the fun in easy pickings?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Logan growled, tone shifting to one more cold and dangerous. “You’re really starting to piss me off. This isn’t about Ethan, it’s about you and how you pull this shit.”

“Right,” Devon smirked, his voice dropping to a taunt. “Maybe I should’ve taken my shot earlier when he was putty in my hands. Hell, he damn near begged for it.” He grinned wider, winding Logan up. “Who knows? When he sobers up, I might try my luck again.”

Logan’s temper snapped, and he shoved Devon hard in the chest, the force rattling the truck.

“Oh, you want some, huh?” Devon staggered, laughing louder. “C’mon then, bring it!”

“No,” Logan bit out, stepping back and unclenching his fists as he fought his rage down. “I’m not doing this. You want a fight, but I’m not biting. One warning—stay the hell away from Ethan, or you’ll have more trouble than you can handle.”

Devon laughed in his face, a mocking bellow. “Is that a threat? Cause I’m happy to test it. Come on, give me your best shot.”

Logan sighed, exhaustion bleeding through as he reined in his temper. “You know what? Just get a cab and go. I need to get him home, and I don’t want you anywhere near him. He doesn’t need your kind of trouble.”

Devon’s anger flared hot, his massive frame tensing under the streetlight. “Getting all high and mighty there, Logan? You need to own your shit. You can’t keep passing it off as a phase or some insecurity forever. Ethan’s gonna get hurt if you’re not careful—and you’re damn good at that, aren’t you? Hurting, then shutting down, leaving the rest of us to clean up the mess you create.”

“Just go,” Logan said, voice flat, final.

“Oh, I’m going,” Devon shrugged, an insidious smile creeping over his face as he stepped back. “Your loss, man. Maybe I’ll catch you around sometime.”

“No,” Logan replied, cold and steady, eyes locked on Devon’s retreating form. “I don’t think so. I don’t think we will ever catch up again.”

He yanked open the driver’s door, the truck creaking as he climbed in. The leather seat felt cool against his damp shirt, and shoving the key in the ignition, he fired up the engine.

The truck gave a low growl that cut through the parking lot’s silence, and Logan glanced in the rearview mirror.

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