His feet felt glued to the pavement. He couldn’t make himself move, his chest tightening as the first tendrils of a panic attack threatened to take hold. He knew he had to do this, had to face Adrian, no matter what he found inside that house. If Adrian had found another—if there was a man beside him, offering the devotion Logan had squandered—then Logan would bear it. He would stand in the ruin of his own jealousy, swallow the shards, and apologize for every betrayal. He would meet Adrian’s gaze even if it split him open, and he would face the truth of what he had thrown away.
Hadn’t Adrian endured the same? Standing at Logan’s wedding, his eyes glistened with unshed tears until they finally fell, his voice breaking as he whispered love into a moment that crushed him.
So if Adrian had joy now, if another man carried the light that once belonged to Logan, then he would not fight it. He would slip away quietly, and perhaps he’d be blessed with a final embrace, a farewell pressed in silence, a last chance to feel Adrian in his arms, and he would take a breath that must last him the rest of his life. He would thank Adrian for this life, for the opportunity to be in his life, for the miracle of having been loved at all, and promise—no, pray—that when their souls met again in some distant universe, he would be braver, he would be worthy. And until that universe arrived, he would count the moments like rosary beads, each one burning in his hands.
Logan’s legs finally obeyed, carrying him forward with unsteady steps. Each pace toward the gray house felt heavier, the air colder, the salt of the ocean cutting through his thin shirt and making him shiver. He tried to steady his breath, to calm the storm raging inside him, but it felt like a losing battle. The closer he got, the more the memories clawed at him;Adrian’s laugh, his touch, the way he’d looked at Logan as though he was the only person in the world.
I’m going to see Adrian again.
When Logan reached the front door, he stopped, his body trembling as the ocean breeze ruffled his hair. From here, he could see the beach stretching out behind the house, hear the waves rolling in, smell the brine of the sea. Adrian had built a life here, in the place where the water met the shore, where the ocean always whispered its secrets.
Logan’s hand hovered over the door, his mind screaming at him to leave, to turn back, to run. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.
He knocked. Three quick, firm raps against the metal, the sound loud in the stillness of the afternoon.
Each knock seemed to echo back at him, hollow and accusing. The silence on the other side swelled until it pressed against his ribs, until every second dragged like a lifetime. His palms were damp, his breath caught between shallow gasps, and the world outside the door narrowed to nothing but the hinge, the handle, the hope.
When it finally creaked open, Logan’s body jolted as if struck. For an instant, he saw him—Adrian, haloed by ocean wind, hair unruly, whiskey eyes widening in recognition. But the vision dissolved as the door swung wider.
Logan went still. His throat closed, his pulse stumbled. It wasn’t Adrian.
The man at the door stared at him, eyes wide, his mouth hanging open in stunned silence. Logan recognized him immediately.
“Logan?” the man asked, his voice marked by his accent’s rhythm. “Logan? Ma ata—” he began in Hebrew, but quickly switched to English as his mind caught up. “What are you doing here?”
“Dean,” Logan acknowledged, bracing himself. He half-expected a punch, a shove, or, at the very least, a scathing insult. Dean was Adrian’s best friend, his protector, and after everything Logan had done, it only made sense that Dean would hate him. Deserve it, even.
But instead of anger, Dean’s face lit up with something Logan couldn’t quite place. Relief? Joy? “You came!” Dean exclaimed, his voice filled with a mix of surprise and something close to elation. “How did you hear?”
“What…?” Logan stammered, completely thrown off by Dean’s reaction. Before he could even process what was happening, Dean stepped forward and pulled him into a tight hug.
What the fuck?
Logan stood stiff in Dean’s arms, his mind racing. Dean had never liked him. The last time they’d spoken, there had been barely veiled hostility between them. After what Logan had done to Adrian—walking out of his life without a word—Dean should be shoving him off the porch, not hugging him like some long-lost savior.
“Thank you so much for coming! Really!” Dean said, relief in his eyes.
And then another thought struck Logan, sharp and painful. Why was Dean even here, in Adrian’s house? Were they together? Was that why Dean had hated him? Because Logan had been a threat to his relationship with Adrian? The possibility made Logan’s stomach churn with a mix of jealousy and guilt.
When Dean finally let him go, Logan took a shaky step back, his confusion plain on his face. “Is… is Adrian here?” he asked, his voice rough and uneven, his heart lodged somewhere in his throat. Nothing about this made sense, and Adrian was the only one who could explain what the hell was happening.
“Yes, yes, of course,” Dean said, stepping aside to let Logan in. “Come on in, he’s at the beach.”
Logan hesitated for a moment, but then stepped inside, his eyes scanning the space. The house was larger than it appeared from the outside, and though it looked weathered and worn on the exterior, the inside was warm and inviting. It felt lived-in, homey, like the kind of place where someone like Adrian could build a life.
“Where is he?” Logan asked again, his eyes darting to a hallway that seemed to lead to the bedrooms. But what caught his attention most was the large backyard visible through the sliding glass doors. Beyond it, the beach stretched out, the waves rolling gently against the shore.
The view was breathtaking, and Logan envisioned Adrian nestled within those walls, gazing at the horizon from the comfort of his home. Unlike Logan, Adrian could not escape the alluring call of the waves.
“The beach,” Dean repeated, his tone patient but tinged with something Logan couldn’t quite put his finger on.
“I’ll wait for him there,” Logan said, his voice soft as his gaze lingered on the shoreline. He assumed Adrian was surfing, his mind conjuring an image of Adrian cutting through the waves with that effortless grace Logan remembered so vividly.
“Sure, sure,” Dean said, nodding as he moved toward the glass doors. “I’ll take you to him.”
Logan followed, still grappling with the strangeness of the encounter. Dean’s happiness at seeing him felt out of place, incongruous with everything he knew. But he pushed the thoughts aside. Right now, all that mattered was Adrian.
The wind carried the scent of salt and freedom as Logan followed Dean, his steps hesitant, his mind racing. The sea roared in the distance, its eternal rhythm a backdrop to the storm raging within him. His heart pounded like the surf breaking on the shore, relentless and unforgiving.
