Page 75 of Spilled Coffee

Tonight wasn’t done—and neither was he.

CHAPTER 39

Ethan’s apartmentfelt like a sanctuary after the club, a haven of quiet where the outside world couldn’t reach him.

He closed the door, then kicked off his shoes and with a weary sigh, peeled off his shirt. The fabric smelled of sweat and the lingering scent of Devon’s cologne that seemed to have seeped into everything.

The hum of the AC unit droned softly, an almost rhythmic sound that smoothed out the frayed edges of Ethan’s nerves.

It wasn’t much—his tiny apartment with its mismatched furniture—but it was his. And tonight, it felt like a fortress.

Barefoot, he padded toward the fridge. The slight chill under his soles sent a shiver up his spine, a stark contrast to the humid crush of bodies he’d just left behind. He swung open the door and grabbed a beer from the shelf, his fingers brushing past a carton of eggs and a half-empty bottle of ketchup.

The glass bottle was ice-cold against his hand, condensation already forming as he popped off the cap on the edge of the counter.

He took a long pull, the bitterness cutting through the lingering taste of tequila and regret. Leaning back against theclosed fridge door, he let the cold surface press into his spine, soothing away some of the tension coiled there.

He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, allowing himself to sink into the silence that wrapped around him like a comforting embrace. The pounding bass from the club still rang faintly in his ears, like a phantom heartbeat he couldn’t quite shake. Lights flashed behind his closed eyelids, vivid streaks of white cutting through the darkness, and then…

Devon’s hands were rough and unrelenting. Ethan’s jaw tightened at the thought, his grip on the beer firming as Logan’s voice surfaced. “Don’t go with him.” His plea had been quiet but urgent, his hand reaching out to grab his wrist at the bar. Of course, Ethan had shrugged it off with some throwaway comment about being fine. But now… Now those words echoed louder than anything else.

He took another sip of beer, letting the bitterness anchor him back in reality.

He’d gone with Devon not because he wanted him, but because he wanted to prove something. What? That he didn’t need Logan? That he could make his own choices? Or maybe it was just spite—a childish retaliation against someone who cared too much. Whatever it was, it left an ache in his chest that was raw and hollow.

Devon’s bruising touch had done nothing but amplify what he was already missing—the tender familiarity of Logan’s hands.

He leaned his head back against the fridge and stared up at the ceiling, tracing the faint cracks in the plaster.

A sharp knock at the door jolted him upright, and his pulse spiked as adrenaline surged through him unexpectedly.

The abrupt noise shattered his quiet cocoon, sending unease prickling along his bare chest like static electricity.

He glanced at his watch. 0200 hours. Who would show up here at this hour?

His first thought was Logan—maybe he’d come looking for him after all. But that hope was quickly smothered by doubt.

Cursing, Ethan pushed off from the fridge and walked toward the door. His fingers hesitated on the deadbolt for half a second before sliding it back with a click.

The hinges creaked as he pulled the door open just wide enough to see who stood on the other side.

“Devon?” The name slipped out before he could stop it, confusion bleeding into every syllable as he stared at the man filling his doorway.

“Miss me?” Devon drawled, his tone casual, with an edge that made Ethan’s stomach twist uncomfortably. He leaned casually against the frame, one shoulder propped against it like he owned the moment. His broad shoulders strained against his tight black shirt, muscles rippling subtly as he shifted his weight. The smirk on his lips was slow and deliberate, curling upward like smoke from a lit match.

“What…” Ethan stammered, instinctively taking a step back. “It’s late… what are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know…” Devon straightened as he let his gaze wander over Ethan’s bare chest before locking eyes with him again. “Brick said you told him you’d ‘see me later.’ So here I am.” He winked, dragging out each syllable like it amused him to watch Ethan squirm.

Heat rushed to Ethan’s cheeks, not embarrassment exactly, but something close enough to make him feel exposed. “That wasn’t… I didn’t mean tonight,” he said it quickly, shaking his head. “You misunderstood. It was just something I said. Like… see you around. Not you should come to my apartment at god knows what time?—”

Devon gave a low chuckle that sent chills crawling along Ethan’s spine for all the wrong reasons, then stepped inside without waiting for an invitation.

A lump formed in Ethan’s throat that was hard to swallow and his back collided with the hard edge of the counter, the impact jarring. “I told you,” his words came out fast, almost stumbling over themselves, trying to build a wall between them. “I wasn’t feeling it tonight. I just needed to get out of there.”

Devon stepped closer, his movements were slow and deliberate, like a hunter stalking his quarry.

“That’s bullshit,” he hissed, his tone full of heat as his eyes narrowed, the smirk on his lips anything but friendly. “Those looks at the bar? That kiss?” He leaned in until their noses were almost touching. “You’ve been teasing me all fuckin’ night. Don’t act like you don’t want this.” His fingers clamped down on Ethan’s bare shoulder with bruising force, his thumb pressing deep into the muscle as if staking a claim.

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