Page 80 of Spilled Coffee

The pain came first, a sharp, searing heat radiating from the side of his head where Devon’s palm landed. Then came the metallic bitter taste of blood on his tongue as the world tilted slightly around him.

“Told you,” Devon growled as Ethan fell off the couch and onto the floor. “I like it rough.”

CHAPTER 44

The city stretchedout in a blur of empty streets, dim streetlights lining the route as Logan’s Jeep roared down the highway, the engine snarling against the hushed tranquility of the early morning hour.

He gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles pale against the cracked leather, as if holding on would steady the storm rising up in his chest.

Ahead of him, Ethan’s apartment building came into view, a squat, tired structure that seemed to sag under the weight of its own neglect. Two stories of peeling paint clung stubbornly to wooden siding, and a single porch light flickered erratically like a dying firefly.

Logan’s pulse hammered in his ears and drowned out rational thought. He couldn’t shake the memory of their last conversation, Ethan’s face tight with defiance as he stormed off.Stay away from Devon,he’d said, harsher than he intended. Ethan had scoffed, brushing past with that maddening mix of confidence and recklessness that always made Logan want to shake some sense into him.

The Jeep rocked to a halt, the headlights cut across the dark expanse of cracked asphalt and litter-strewn corners as he glanced at the clock on the dashboard then killed the engine.

His eyes darted across the lot, scanning for trouble. Shadows pooled around dumpsters and abandoned shopping carts.

“Shit,” he muttered, dread coiled in his gut like a snake preparing to strike.

He snatched his phone from the passenger seat and thumbed Ethan’s number with an urgency that bordered on desperation. The line rang once… twice… three times before clicking to voicemail. Ethan’s clipped greeting came through: “You know what to do.” The impersonal tone hit Logan like a punch in the chest. “Damn it,” he growled, ending the call before it could record his frustration.

His fingers hovered over the screen for a brief moment before he dialed again. This time he did leave a message: “Ethan, it’s me. Call me back.” His voice was strained, edged with an anxiety he couldn’t mask.

The phone stayed dark, mocking him with silence. He tossed it onto the dash and leaned back against the seat, inhaling sharply through clenched teeth.

Why the fuck are you ignoring me?The question echoed in his thoughts like an accusation, while his mind ran through worst-case scenarios, each one more gut-wrenching than the last.

He bit down on his lip and tried again. “Ethan…” he started, his voice cracking slightly before he steadied it. “It’s me… I’m here, if you wanna see me…” He hesitated, swallowing the lump in his throat. “…call me back when you get this.”

He ended the call and let out a frustrated sigh before slumping forward and burying his face in his hands.

What if he is with Devon right now?Images flashed through his mind of Devon’s rough hands on Ethan, or Ethan pinned beneath him, struggling, or worse…

The thought of any of those made Logan’s blood run cold and then boil all at once. He clenched his fists.

You warned him.But what good was a warning when Ethan was so damn stubborn?

His mind spun in endless circles: go upstairs and find him or drive away and pretend this wasn’t happening.

The decision was made even before he realized it.

He shoved the driver’s door open and stepped out, boots crunching against loose gravel. He stood beside the Jeep, his keys dangling from one hand while his other rested against his hip, fingers twitching with restless energy as he looked up at the second-floor window where a faint light seeped through partially open blinds.

It was typical Ethan to leave lights on.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Logan climbed back into the Jeep and slammed the door shut behind him. He then jammed the keys into the ignition but didn’t turn them.

This is stupid,he told himself.Just go home.You need to sleep.But he couldn’t shake that image, the one of Ethan hurt, and it lit a fire inside him.

He threw open the door, locked it with a quick chirp from the remote, and tucked the keys into his pocket. He then strode across the parking lot, jaw set and shoulders squared.

The stairwell door groaned as he yanked it open, old hinges protesting under his grip.

Logan took the stairs two at a time and by the time he reached Ethan’s floor, his breath came in quick bursts, not from exertion, but from anticipation and fear.

The hall stretched like something out of a movie: dingy carpet stained with who-knows-what, walls that might’ve oncebeen white now faded to an unsettling grayish-yellow, lights buzzing overhead with a nauseating hum.

Then he heard it… a muffled thunk from further down the corridor followed by an oppressive silence that seemed to swallow everything else.

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