Page 91 of Spilled Coffee

“I thought...” Logan hesitated, searching for the right words. His eyes flickered with regret, or maybe self-reproach. “I thought he was over that phase and was happy now.” He let out a hollow laugh. “Boy, was I wrong.”

Ethan swallowed, trying to make sense of everything. His mind raced with questions, but one stood out above all else. “So…” he began hesitantly, licking his lips nervously before finishing the thought aloud. “What about Alex? Are you going to tell her what he’s done?”

Logan’s face darkened slightly at the question, not with anger, but with the burden of making yet another impossible choice. He glanced down at where their hands rested on the bed and intertwined their fingers before answering. “I don’t know,”he admitted honestly after a long pause. “If he stays away from you… then I guess not.”

Ethan raised a brow skeptically. “You’re just going to let it slide?”

“It’s not about letting it slide,” Logan countered, sitting up straighter against the headboard. “It’s about knowing when something isn’t your fight to pick.” He sighed again and looked away toward the dimly lit window, as though seeking answers in the darkness beyond. “This life we live,” he continued, his tone more reflective now, “it’s a double life and it takes its toll on us all.” He met Ethan’s gaze directly. “We’ve all got secrets—things we’d rather keep buried.”

His lips quirked into a rueful half-smile. “Hell, I’m no saint, not after the things I’ve done.”

Ethan studied him for a moment before nodding. The tension between them eased slightly as they allowed themselves to settle back into each other’s embrace. A comfortable silence wrapped around them like a warm blanket, a stark contrast to the chaos that had defined their day until now.

“So…” Ethan continued after what couldn’t have been more than a few minutes’ silence between them. “Are you gonna stay the rest of the night?”

There was vulnerability hidden beneath his casual tone, like he was afraid of what the answer might be, but even more afraid of not asking at all.

Logan looked at him and smiled—a genuine smile this time that crinkled at the corners of his eyes and softened every hard edge about him. “You want me to stay?” he teased. His voice held none of its usual commanding presence, only a quiet affection.

Ethan reached for Logan’s hand, his expression serious despite the lightness he tried to inject into his voice. “I do.” He paused. “But I understand if it’s too risky.”

He leaned in until their faces were only inches apart again and their lips met in a slow, searing kiss full of unspoken promises. “After everything that happened today…” he murmured against Logan’s lips, locking eyes once more so there could be no mistaking how much sincerity filled every word he spoke. “…I just want you here with me.”

Logan ran his thumb across Ethan’s knuckles, his touch gentle yet reassuring. “Then I’ll stay,” he said, making it sound like a vow rather than just a simple answer. “You know, we’re going to be okay, right?” he offered reassuringly as he tightened his arm protectively around Ethan’s waist, and silently vowed never to let anyone come between them like Devon had. “This will all work out. We just have to keep things professional in the field.”

He sighed, then finding comfort in the warmth of Ethan’s body against his, closed his eyes. “Now, just be quiet and go to sleep.”

CHAPTER 52

Sunlight slicedthrough the gaps in the blinds, cutting across the hardwood floor, glinting on tangled jeans, a worn hoodie and a sock half-hidden beneath the bed.

The light hit Logan squarely in the face, stark and unrelenting, dragging him from the depths of sleep like an unwelcome alarm. “Aw, jeez,” he groaned, squinting against the brightness.

He rolled onto his side, his hand instinctively reaching out to where Ethan should have been, brushing the cool, now empty sheet. The absence was jarring, and his brow furrowed as he sat up and propped himself against the headboard, the quilt pooling around his waist.

At the foot of the bed, Ethan stood with his back to him, and Logan trailed his gaze over powerful shoulders that tapered to his waist.

His taut muscles shifted under sun-kissed skin as he tugged a gray t-shirt over his head, and Logan found himself momentarily mesmerized by the way the soft cotton slid down, covering his toned chest. The bruise, a faint purple watercolor like stain on his cheek and forehead, caught his attention. Devon’s handiwork.

Logan’s chest tightened at the thought. “Hey,” he rasped, his voice still rough from too-little sleep.

“Hey,” Ethan turned and smiled, smoothing the shirt over his stomach with both hands. “You sleep okay? There’s fresh juice and coffee in the kitchen if you want some.” He gestured toward the door as he grabbed a pair of socks from the dresser.

“Not bad.” Logan checked his phone. It was too damn early for anything resembling activity, and he tossed it back onto the nightstand with a frown. “Where are you going? Come back to bed. We don’t need to report to the base for another three hours.”

Ethan turned, one eyebrow quirking up in amusement. “Sorry, I figured I’d hit the gym early and get a workout in before training. Don’t wanna let my boss down by losing my stamina.” He punctuated the statement with a wink.

“Oh, trust me… your boss thinks your stamina’s just fine,” Logan shot back, a slow smile tugging at his lips.

After everything that happened last night, why was Ethan bolting? His smile faltered and confusion creased his brow. “You’re not seriously going to the gym now, are you? I mean... I thought we might have breakfast together before heading in for the briefing.”

“Oh, really?” Ethan replied as though considering it, then shook his head. “Sorry...” He again gestured to the door before turning away. “I wanna beat the rush. You know Lieutenant Thompson always takes forever in the weight room.”

Logan watched him searching the dresser drawers and couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. As Ethan pulled something out of the bottom drawer, Logan’s gaze wandered lower, to where Ethan’s bare legs stretched below the hem of his shirt. No boxers. Just skin, and that teasing sliver of thigh where sunlight met shadow.

“Wait, you’re serious?” He leaned forward as if catching him mid-act might change things.

“Um-hmm—yeah,” Ethan glanced over his shoulder, one corner of his mouth twitching upward into a smirk that bordered on mischievous.

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