Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Tommy
Tommy almost didn’t get out of the car.
The engine had been off long enough for the warmth to start fading, the windshield fogging faintly where his breath kept hitting the glass.
The house sat at the end of the driveway exactly the way it always had , white siding, string lights along the porch railing, cars lining the street like the neighborhood itself had been invited.
He’d been here a hundred times.
Backyard barbecues. Holiday parties. Birthday dinners that stretched long enough for the adults to forget kids were still awake.
So why did it feel like he was walking into a version of his life he wasn’t ready to explain?
He stared at the front door.
Logan’s hand rested on his thigh, warm and steady, not squeezing, not asking. Just there.
“You good?” Logan asked quietly.
Tommy dragged in a breath.
“Yeah,” he said.
It came out a little too fast.
Logan didn’t call him on it. He never did. He just watched Tommy the way he always did , like he was listening for the thing underneath the words.
Tommy’s fingers worried at the seam of his jacket.
“I forgot how loud these things get,” he admitted after a moment.
Logan leaned back slightly in the driver’s seat, one arm resting across the wheel.
“Then we do a lap,” he said simply. “Say hi. Eat something. Leave before your mom starts assigning tasks.”
Tommy huffed a small laugh.
“My mom will hunt me down.”
“Then I’ll distract her.”
Logan said it like it was obvious. Like stepping between Tommy and a room full of people was the easiest job in the world.
“You just tell me when you need air.”
Something in Tommy’s chest loosened at that.
Logan leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead.
Warm. Familiar.
Grounding.
Tommy closed his eyes for half a second before looking back at the house.
Then something else occurred to him.
He turned in the seat.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
Logan’s brow lifted slightly.
“I mean,” Tommy said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck, “I didn’t even ask. About tonight. About… him.”
The word Chase stuck somewhere behind his teeth.
Logan didn’t answer right away.
His expression stayed neutral , the same calm, steady look he’d worn in the hotel room while chaos unfolded around him.
“I’m fine,” Logan said finally.
Tommy studied him, trying to read the layers.
“You sure?” he asked.
Logan’s gaze flicked toward the house, then back to Tommy.
“I thought I’d be jealous,” he admitted.
Tommy’s stomach tightened slightly.
“But I wasn’t.”
Tommy waited.
Logan exhaled slowly, searching for the right way to say it.
“The other guys…” he said. “Some of them handled you like you were a piece of meat.”
Tommy blinked.
“Not cruelly,” Logan added. “Just… transactional. Like you were the finish line.”
That was accurate enough that Tommy couldn’t argue.
“But Chase didn’t,” Logan continued. “He touched you like you were worth something.”
Tommy’s throat went dry.
Logan’s eyes moved briefly to the windshield, remembering.
“That’s when it changed for me,” he said quietly.
Tommy frowned slightly.
“Changed how?”
Logan’s mouth curved faintly.
“I was more turned on watching him hold you than I was watching the other guys fuck you.”
Tommy stared at him.
Logan shrugged one shoulder.
“That was before you even saw his face.”
The words sat between them.
Heavy.
Honest.
Tommy felt heat creep slowly up his neck.
He hadn’t realized how much he needed to hear Logan say something like that out loud.
“We can talk about it later,” Logan said after a moment, shifting back toward the steering wheel. “Tonight doesn’t have to be that conversation.”
Tommy nodded slowly.
“Yeah.”
Logan reached for the door handle.
“Let’s just go have fun.”
Tommy looked back at the house one more time.
Then he opened the car door.
Cold February air snapped across his cheeks.
It smelled like wood smoke and winter and someone’s fireplace down the street.
Logan rounded the hood and met him at the driveway without rushing him. The porch light caught Logan’s profile , broad shoulders under a dark jacket, jaw shadowed with stubble, eyes scanning the house the way he always scanned a room.
Mapping exits.
Tommy loved that about him.
How steady he was.
How he always looked like he could carry the situation if Tommy couldn’t.
They walked up the driveway together.
The closer they got, the louder everything became.
Music.
Laughter.
Voices spilling out every time the front door opened.
Logan’s hand found the small of Tommy’s back as they stepped onto the porch.
Not possessive.
Placement.
I’m here.
Tommy leaned into it for half a second.
Then the door opened and the noise hit them full in the face.
Heat. Perfume. Food.
Someone hugged Tommy before he’d even taken two steps inside.
“Oh my god, Tommy!”
Another voice followed.
“Look at you!”
Tommy smiled automatically, nodding, greeting people whose names he remembered and people whose names he absolutely did not.
He let himself be pulled briefly into the flow of the party , coats, trays of food, someone explaining a story that started three sentences before Tommy joined the conversation.
But he barely heard a word.
His eyes kept scanning the room.
Looking.
Searching.
He hated that he knew exactly what he was looking for.
Logan murmured something polite to a neighbor while keeping his hand at Tommy’s back like a tether.
Tommy tried to focus on familiar faces.
His mom’s friends.
The neighbor who always asked about his job.
Someone’s cousin he vaguely remembered from high school.
But the room kept pulling his attention toward the dining table.
Chase stood there like he belonged in the center of the house.
Because he always did.
Button-down shirt.
Sleeves rolled neatly at his forearms.
Watch catching the warm light.
Hair pushed back like he’d run a hand through it without thinking.
He laughed at something someone said.
Pleasant.
Measured.
Practiced.
The golden boy.
The phrase slid into Tommy’s mind automatically.
He’d spent years convincing himself he didn’t care.
He cared.
He just hated that he did.
Growing up, Chase had always seemed effortless.
Now Tommy could see the seams.
The tightness in his jaw when he wasn’t smiling.
The way his shoulders never fully dropped.
The half-beat pause before he reacted , like he was selecting the correct version of himself.
Tommy’s stomach twisted.
Because if Chase was performing…
Then something else was underneath.
Tommy didn’t know what to do with that.
He felt the moment before Chase even looked up.
The shift.
Like the air itself had tension stored inside it.
Chase’s gaze lifted mid-conversation.
And landed directly on Tommy.
Everything narrowed.
Not dramatic.
Just immediate.
Green eyes locked on blue.
Tommy felt the same electric recognition from the hotel.
Only this time there was nowhere for it to hide.
Heat rushed up his neck.
He didn’t look away.
He couldn’t.
Chase’s public smile faltered slightly , not gone, just softer at the edges.
Like he’d forgotten the script.
Tommy became aware of Logan beside him again.
The warm pressure of Logan’s hand at his back.
The quiet steadiness of it.
I’m here.
Tommy swallowed.
And across the room, Chase set his drink down and started toward them.