Page 30 of Unmistakably Us

Ten

On the eighth time around the block, Logan realized it was time to make a move. Either that, or someone would call the cops, and he’d go to jail for stalking or some shit.

Logan just wasn’t sure how to do this male bonding, fatherly advice thing. He gave it a shot with John, but he seemed closed off. Maybe he was too close to January to be objective. He figured he’d seek counsel elsewhere. “Look at me, looking for people to talk to about emotional shit,” Logan breathed into the car.

This was so not him. Logan was not a bonder or even an asker. Growing up, asking got you a hand to the face, and bonding, well, bonding got you worse. Bonding was considered a pussy move. One that someone else would take full advantage of if they could. Never give someone else your throat, period.

And this woman made him so crazy. So crazy, he was casting his history and learned behavior to the side and exposing his throat. He pulled into the drive and sighed after he killed the engine. He wasn’t even sure what advice he sought, just that he felt the need to seek it.

Logan had his hand poised to knock, but Frank halted his action by coming around the house wiping his hands on a red shop towel. “Hey there. We’re around back. Join us?”

Jesus, the man’s like a panther.Logan prided himself on not allowing anyone to surprise him. Not since two broken bones, three fractures, and forty-two stitches. That had been a flying whiskey bottle he tried to stop with his arm.

Just as the us registered in his mind, he entered the garage right behind Frank to see what he assumed was Walker and Dax hard at work on an old El Camino.

“Grab a brew and a wrench and help us finish up some of these little connections,” Frank instructed as they passed the beat up refrigerator by the toolbox.

Dax’s head popped up around the hood, “Grab me one, too?”

“Ditto, but non-alcoholic for me,” came the disembodied voice of Walker.

Opening the fridge, Logan grabbed three amber bottles and one green. He tossed one directly to Frank, then he uncapped the others as he approached the car. He distributed them accordingly, and when Walker looked up to take his, his eyes widened. “Thank…hey, it’s Logan. Praise fuck. Someone who knows what he’s doing, here.” Walker traded his ratchet for the beer. “Can you figure out what I’ve got crossed over here?”

Walker moved out of the way, and Logan took Walker’s place, swigging generously from his beer before he set it on the fender to study the task at hand. Logan found this an easier, less daunting possibility. He wasn’t sure how to approach Frank with the subject of January or feelings.

Or approach those subjects at all. Not like he had an ass-ton of experience with emotions and shit. He was so far out of his depth, he was plotting an exit strategy already. Exit strategy sounded far better in his head than chickening out.

Silence overtook the garage, broken only by the sound of swallowing and the rustling of wires. Logan chanced a glance at where the other occupants stood drinking their brews.

Their heads were whipping around with a lot of mouthing of words and hand gestures. This made Logan even more uncomfortable, if that were possible. Nothing good had ever come from men plotting with him right in the same room.

Not to mention it amplified his feelings of inadequacy. That age-old resurgence of being the outsider. He was done making nice with people who saw him as a lessor or too stupid to just fucking talk to.

He pulled his hands back and rested his elbows on the car. Then he turned the tool in both hands, studying it. Looking for…what, he didn’t know. Finally, he stood and pointed it toward his adversaries. That’s how they felt right now, adversarial.

“Fuck, if you’ve got something to say, just say it. Stop acting like I’m not here.” The three men just looked at each other, silently passing the buck, he assumed.

Logan shook his head and stormed toward the door. “Fucking teach me to give a shit about people. I’m the only one I can rely on and I don’t need this…” Logan trailed off his mumbling rant as he aggressively tossed the ratchet in the direction of the toolbox.

As his palm landed on the door with a slap, ready to push it open and leave these men in his past, Dax spoke, “Damn, the kid’s got more anger issues than you do, Walker.”

That was it!Logan was about to kick this motherfucker’s ass. He spun on his heels and was puffed up in Dax’s face in no time flat. His face was a bit of an exaggeration, more like staring into his Adam’s apple. Damn, this fucker is huge. Logan never noticed just how much so until he was on the verge of engaging him.

It was simply an observation. Logan had kicked the ass of, and gotten his ass kick by, bigger men than him, and he’d survived it.

“Who are you calling a kid? I’m pretty sure I’ve got a few years of experience on you.” Things appeared in shades of red. Even though he wasn’t really pissed at Dax for his comment, it was just the culmination of everything in his life to this point for some reason.

The things he was feeling for January weren’t processing the way they would in anyone else. For most people, you meet a girl, you like the girl, you advance the relationship in increments until you end up with a mortgage and fights over laundry and dishes and the toilet seat and…shit.

Logan was screwed, as in, royally as fuck. As inexplicable as it was, he wanted those things with January. He found the idea of fighting over his socks on the floor or bitching about her online shopping addiction…appealing? He knew about her combat shopping for leggings, and he found it adorable how she’d scream at her phone while furiously claiming a pair with elephants on them or something.

Logan was wrenched from his thoughts by rumbling laughter and Walker’s overly amused voice. “I recognize that look. Somebody’s thinking about honeymoon sex and rugrats.” Walker clapped him and Dax both on the shoulder, effectively diffusing the situation without bloodshed.

“Yeah, yours,” Devil Kip said in his mind.

Dax’ stance relaxed and as it did, Logan breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t like he wanted to fight the big guy. It was just the only way he had ever learned to channel any real emotions. Dax pulled a pipe from his pocket, never breaking eye contact, and lit it. “All’s good, brother, just don’t ever step up to me again unless you plan on taking me down.”

His voice came through the cloud of smoke loud and clear. He was grinning like he wasn’t threatening him, but Logan saw the truth of his statement through it all. It wasn’t a threat, just a fact. “Noted.”

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