The late afternoon sun spilled gold over Tel Aviv’s skyline, a soft shimmer that kissed the glass windows of Logan’s hotel suite. He exhaled, steadyinghimself as he zipped up his suitcase. With a quiet nod to the empty room, he checked out, tossing his luggage into the back of the rental Maserati.
The drive was a blur of shifting blues—the sea stretching endlessly beside him, whispering in its ancient tongue. It had always been the witness to their story. The ocean had first carried Adrian to him in a rush of white foam and saving hands. It had been their playground, their church, their silent observer. And it had swallowed Logan whole when he left.
Now, it watched as he pulled into Adrian’s street, the sun dipping just below the rooftops.
Inside, Adrian sat on the edge of his bed, his form bathed in the amber glow of early evening. The man who once carved waves with effortless grace now looked slightly more fragile, his illness a quiet undertow pulling at his strength. But his smile—it was still the same. It was still the lighthouse Logan had spent two years pretending not to see.
“You’re wearing a suit, Lo?” Adrian’s voice was warm, amused, as Logan set his suitcase down beside his.
“Yeah, but it’s not my best one,” Logan admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I packed in a hurry when I left Seattle. Didn’t have much time to think.”
Adrian’s gaze softened. “You’re overdressed,” he murmured, the corner of his lips tugging up into a knowing smile.
“But we’re going to your parents’ place, right? Thought I should make a good impression.”
“You don’t have to wear a suit for that.” Adrian’s hands found Logan’s tie, his fingers curling around the expensive, slick fabric, pulling him closer. “But damn, you look so good in one.” His voice was a hushed tide lapping at Logan’s skin.
The heat between them ignited like the sun meeting the horizon. A gasp escaped Logan’s lips as Adrian tugged, their lips colliding in a kiss that tasted like longing.
Adrian’s hand slid up Logan’s neck, fingertips tracing old paths, rediscovering, relearning. Logan swore he could die in that moment, from the way Adrian whimpered against his skin, the way his breath ghosted over the pulse at his throat.
“How good?” Logan rasped, his voice caught somewhere between desperation and devotion.
“Really, really good,” Adrian murmured, his lips grazing Logan’s jaw. “Like I want to tear this suit off you right now.”
A shudder ran through Logan, the air between them thick with heat, with history, with the magnetic pull that had never really let him go.
“Fuck,” Logan exhaled, his forehead resting against Adrian’s. “We have to go.”
Adrian chuckled, pressing one last kiss to his lips before pulling away. “Yeah, we do.”
Logan inhaled deeply, willing his heartbeat to steady. He stepped back, tugging off the suit pants and replacing them with dark jeans, leaving the dress shirt on. He tossed the jacket onto his suitcase before turning back to Adrian. “Okay. Ready?”
Adrian gave him a once-over, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You really didn’t have to dress up. Dinner’s just homey, comfortable. You could’ve worn sweats.”
“I’m not going to wear sweats when I first meet your parents!” he said indignantly. “I still want to make a good impression.”
“You will,” Adrian said, pocketing his phone and wallet as they stepped out of the room. “You charm every living soul on this earth; you’ll be fine.”
Logan hesitated, the sea of unspoken fears rising in his throat. “They don’t hate me?”
Adrian paused at the doorway, turning to face him fully. “They did,” Adrian said softly, his gaze steady. “I told them what happened. About how you left. And they saw how I broke.” There was no accusation in his voice, no bitterness—just the raw truth, weathered by time but never washed away. “But they also know what you meant to me. What you still mean to me.” He reached for Logan’s hand, his fingers warm despite the chill of old wounds. A gentle squeeze, a tether pulling Logan back from the drifting void he had spent two years lost in. “And my mom?” Adrian’s lips twitched into something between fondness and amusement. “She’s so excited to see you. Prepare yourself, because both of them are going to be extra embarrassing, and she probably cooked for an army.”
Logan smirked as they stepped out of the house and into the car. Adrian slipped into the driver’s seat without a word, muttering something about knowing the streets better and having a long drive ahead of them. Logan didn’t argue. In truth, he was glad Adrian seemed at ease—glad he wasn’t burdened by the weight of Logan meeting his family.
The engine hummed beneath them as they rolled through the streets, the city lights flickering against the windshield like reflections on the water. Logan glanced sideways at Adrian, tracing the familiar lines of his face, the quiet intensity in his eyes as he focused on the road. He looked… different. Maybe it was the illness, or maybe it was just time, but there was something heavier about him now, something Logan hadn’t seen before.
“Will your brother be there too?” Logan asked after a stretch of silence.
“Yeah.” Adrian’s answer was clipped, his hands tightening slightly on the wheel.
Logan hesitated before pressing further. “Are things… better between you two?”
Adrian didn’t answer right away. The silence between them stretched, thick like the deep sea before a storm. Logan remembered the first time he had heard the nameAlon. It had been an accident—just a passing mention in a conversation Adrian had with his parents one night when they were still traveling together. That was the time Logan learned that Adrian had a younger brother.
“Not really,” Adrian finally admitted. His voice was steady, but Logan could hear the undertow beneath it. “He enlisted not long ago. Same unit I was in.”
Logan frowned. “Is that… good?” He searched Adrian’s face for some clue, but Adrian’s expression remained unreadable.
