Page 53 of Spilled Coffee

He pressed his forehead against the tiles, which felt cold and unyielding beneath his skin. Droplets of water slid down his back in erratic patterns, pooling at his feet before spiraling down the drain.

“What the hell, Logan?” His voice cracked slightly. “That was so fucking dumb.” Each statement was an accusation, ricocheting off the walls. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, sending beads of water flying from his dark hair.

He clenched his jaw so tightly it ached, while the weight in his chest wouldn’t budge—the crushing mix of desire and regret coiling together like barbed wire around his ribs.

He’d crossed a line last night, one he’d sworn never to go near. Ethan was supposed to be off-limits: a brother, a colleague, someone who trusted him implicitly.

And now…

Logan inhaled sharply through his nose and pushed off from the wall. There was no point dwelling on it.

He stepped out of the shower, snagging a towel from the rack without looking—it was probably gray from too many washes—and wrapped it tightly around his waist.

The damp fabric clung to his hips as he rubbed a similar towel briskly over his dripping hair, then tossed it onto the counter.

His living area greeted him like an old adversary. It was sparse, a utilitarian space that mirrored its occupant perfectly.

Gray walls bore scuff marks from years of boots carelessly kicked off or gear that had leaned against them after long shifts.A recently purchased leather couch occupied one side of the room, its armrests already worn smooth from endless use.

Logan barely glanced at any of it as he padded toward the kitchen, a nook tucked into one corner.

The fridge hummed faintly saying welcome back, as he yanked the door open and looked inside at his sad collection of condiments, leftover takeout containers stacked precariously on one shelf, and a half-empty carton of milk shoved into the door with a bottle of juice that had been there too long.

Grabbing the milk, he tipped it back without hesitation, drinking straight from the carton. The remaining liquid hit his tongue with a sour edge that made him wince slightly, but he swallowed hard, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

He muttered something under his breath about “needing more milk,” as though saying it aloud might make him remember it later.

He tossed the empty carton onto the counter and closed the fridge door then began to pace aimlessly across the room.

His bare feet scuffed back and forth, back and forth against the linoleum as his thoughts churned in similar chaotic circles and refused to settle.

“Why the fuck did you do it?” he muttered, now dragging a hand through his damp hair in frustration.

He could hear Ethan’s voice murmuring softly in the dark, his hands tracing patterns down his spine. It was like they’d known each other forever instead of being thrown together by circumstance barely eight months ago.

The towel hung precariously low on his hips as Logan stopped abruptly near the window overlooking nothing but another brick building across an alley.

He pressed both palms flat against the sill and leaned forward slightly until his forehead rested against the glass.“What the fuck am I gonna say when I see him?” he whispered, half expecting an answer from beyond the grimy panes of glass.

But there wasn’t any answer—only silence stretching endlessly ahead like an unmarked road disappearing into fog.

And Logan? Logan had no idea where to go next.

He sank heavily into the chair, its wooden frame groaning beneath his weight as if protesting his burden. His hand raked constantly through his damp hair, the strands clinging stubbornly to his fingers. He tugged at them in frustration, the motion sharp and restless.

Beads of sweat formed on his brow as his skin still carried the heat of the shower.

He leaned forward, elbows digging into his knees as he stared at the floor. His breathing came shallow and fast, his pulse hammering like the little hammer on the bell of an old alarm clock.

Sitting still was impossible, and he tapped his foot constantly against the floor before he suddenly shot up and started pacing again.

Thoughts churned in his mind, gnawing at him like a wild animal clawing at a cage and his gaze went to the table where his phone lay.

He snatched it up, the smooth surface slick under his fingers. It was smudged with fingerprints and the battery blinked low. He barely noticed as he unlocked it.

Ethan’s message was there—bright against the dim screen, every word cutting through him with precision.

Thanks for last night. I really enjoyed it.

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