Logan moved through the world like a blade; sharp, unyielding, and devastatingly precise. The boardroom had become his arena, and he dominated it with an effortless grace that made even seasoned executives falter. Numbers flowed from his lips like they were etched into his bones, and his ability to read a room was uncanny, a predator’s instinct honed over years of grooming. His father, always a hard man to please, beamed withpride as he watched Logan close deal after deal, the family legacy securely in his son’s capable hands.
This was the role Logan had been born into, the life meticulously carved out for him from the moment he could walk. And he played it well—brilliantly, even. Ruthless, composed, and always in control, he was every bit the magnificent Vaughn his father had raised him to be. But beneath the polished exterior, Logan felt like a shadow of himself, hollowed out by the weight of expectations and the secrets he carried.
Zack stretched lazily, his naked form bathed in the hazy light of the apartment. He grinned as he stood, running a hand through his tousled hair. “I’m thinking about ordering a pizza,” he said, his voice warm and teasing. “Are you staying?” He was already looking for his phone, rummaging through the chaos of their discarded clothes and sheets.
Logan moved through the room with deliberate slowness, gathering the pieces of his own clothing Zack had practically torn from him earlier. His hands brushed against the fabric, but his mind was elsewhere, pulled inexorably toward a distant shore.Adrian. The name came unbidden, a whisper at the edge of his thoughts, and with it came a flood of memories he had tried so hard to bury.
Adrian’s scent—salt and sun and something indescribably his. The weight of his body against Logan’s, grounding him, anchoring him. The way Adrian laughed, a sound so rich and free it felt like sunlight spilling into a dark room. And his body, lithe and golden, moving effortlessly as he surfed the waves. Logan closed his eyes for a moment, letting the ache settle in his chest, sharp and familiar.
“No, thanks,” he said flatly. He forced himself to look away from Zack, away from the here and now, and glanced at his phone. Sandy. Her namesat on the screen like an accusation. She didn’t know he had landed yet; he’d made sure of that. He didn’t want interruptions while he was here, while he was trying to forget, trying to chase, trying to disappear.
Logan pulled his shirt over his head, his movements brisk, almost mechanical. “I’ve got to go home,” he added, the words hollow even as he said them. He avoided Zack’s gaze, not wanting to see whatever flicker of disappointment might be there. Zack didn’t ask him to stay; he never did. And Logan was grateful for that small mercy.
Zack paused mid-motion, his expression shifting as if weighing whether to say what was on his mind. Finally, as he pulled on his underwear, he spoke. “So, Logan… does your wife, uh, know?”
The question hit Logan like a slap. He froze, mid-step, his heart thudding uncomfortably in his chest. “Know what?” he asked, his voice just a shade too high, betraying the panic simmering beneath his composed exterior.
“About us…?” Zack shrugged casually, though his tone held a pointed edge. “I mean, I’m not judging. Some wives are cool with the fact that their man is… gay—”
“I’m not gay!” Logan snapped, the words cutting through the air with sharp finality. Too sharp. Too quick. He could hear the desperation in his own voice, but it was too late to take it back. “I’m not into men. I’m not gay.”
Zack blinked at him, his brows lifting slightly as he studied Logan’s face, searching for some crack in the armor. When Logan didn’t flinch or retract, Zack burst into laughter, a loud, disbelieving laugh that made Logan’s jaw clench.
“What’s so funny?” Logan growled, his anger rising to the surface.
“You… oh, God. You’re serious!” Zack said between chuckles, a smirk still curling at the corners of his lips. “Logan, come on. You can’t honestly stand there and tell me you’re not attracted to men; you must be at least bi. I just fucked you, and let’s not forget the part where you fucked me, so, yeah, I think that ship has sailed.”
“Shut up, Zack!” Logan barked, his voice thunderous, his chest heaving with the effort to control the fury that burned through him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this angry, this exposed.
Zack’s amusement faded slightly, though a trace of his smile lingered. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed. It’s just… come on, man. The wife doesn’t know, then? I didn’t think you were still, you know, in the closet. I mean, with the way you—”
“Stop.” Logan’s voice dropped, cold now, his hands clenching at his sides. He moved with purpose, grabbing his shoes and heading for the door, the overwhelming need to escape driving him forward.
This was Logan’s method, wasn’t it? Run. Always running.
He ran to Hawaii. He ran from Adrian. He ran right back to the life he knew. He ran to his wife. And then he ran as far from that life as he could.
He ran to Zack when he needed. He ran from Zack when he couldn’t bear it.
Run, run, run. And now?
Now, he was exhausted. The kind of tired that devoured every glimmer, darkening even the brightest light. Drained from carrying an ache as he fled from his life, he could never outrun himself. No distance could unravel this tether. No matter how far he journeyed or how swiftly he moved, Adrian lingered, forever just beyond the breakwater.
Zack followed, his expression softening as he caught up to Logan. “Lo, wait. I’m sorry,” he said, his tone gentler now as he reached for Logan’s arm. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just… I don’t know. This whole thing with you being married… It’s starting to feel a little wrong. Like, I didn’t sign up to be a part of that.”
Logan hesitated, his hand on the doorknob, his back to Zack. He didn’t turn around, didn’t let the apology sink in too deep. “I get that,” he said quietly, his voice hollow, stripped of the earlier fury. “I have to go. I’ll see you, okay?”
Before Zack could respond, Logan yanked his arm free, his movements jerky, uncoordinated. He didn’t look back as he walked out the door, the weight of the conversation echoing around him, joining his usual shadows. As he stepped into the early morning hours, the cool air bit at his skin, but it did nothing to ease the fire still raging inside him.
Logan spent the day locked in his office, ignoring the steady stream of well-wishers who visited to congratulate him in advance on his upcoming birthday. The words grated on him, every chirped greeting a reminder of the passage of time, of everything he’d buried and couldn’t seem to forget. He loathed his birthday; the forced smiles, the shallow congratulations, and the weight of another year spent living a lie.
When night finally fell, he sent a text to Sandy, claiming he’d be out with colleagues from work. He told his father that Sandy had planned something special for the two of them, a fabrication designed to keepeveryone at bay. Then he slid behind the wheel of his car and drove away from the expectations, the lies, and the suffocating pretense. His destination was clear in his mind before he even started the engine: Zack’s bar.
The bar was warm and dimly lit, a haven that smelled of spilled whiskey and faint citrus cleaner. Logan found a stool near the far end and settled in, watching Zack work behind the counter. Their conversation was light, effortless, and for the most part, shallow. They slipped back into their rhythm, unacknowledging last night’s tension, choosing instead to drift in the easier currents of familiarity.
“You’re not paying,” Zack said with a teasing grin as Logan reached for his wallet, pulling out a crisp bill. “I thought you’d be used to that by now.”
Logan smirked, his lips curving into something softer than his usual mask. He folded the bill and dropped it into the tip jar with deliberate slowness. “So, it’s all for you, then.”
