Chapter 16
CHAPTER 16
The noise slammed into Ethan like a shockwave as he and Brick shoved through the graffiti-tagged doors of Lucy’s.
It was the bass that hit him first, the deep, primal thud that punched through his chest, rattling his ribs and vibrating all the way down to his toes. It wasn’t just music, it was a physical force, alive and feral, pulling him under before he even had time to adjust.
The air inside was humid and suffocating, carrying the scents of expensive perfumes, too many people, and something else. Shouts and raucous laughter ricocheted off walls which were decorated with chaotic ‘street art’ each tag and spray-painted mural screaming for attention under the epileptic flashes of laser lights and spot beams.
Ethan squinted. His head swam from the beers they’d downed earlier, and he blinked hard as the dazzling lights cut through the haze, momentarily blinding him with bright bursts of white that left jagged images dancing in his vision. Neon streaks of fluorescent pink, dazzling yellow, and electric blue splashed across the crowd in erratic bursts, illuminating faces twisted in laughter or lost in the music.
It felt hyperreal—too loud, too bright, too much—and yet it sucked him in like a magnet.
Brick jabbed a finger toward the VIP Lounge at the back of the club, but Ethan could barely make out what he was saying over the roar of sound that seemed to swallow them whole.
“What?” he yelled, leaning in closer, as if that might help him decipher whatever his friend was shouting.
Brick turned, his face suddenly lit up by a strobe flash, grinning wide like he was in on some joke Ethan hadn’t caught yet. “V.I.P Lounge!” he yelled again, dragging out the syllables as though slowing them down would make them easier to hear.
Ethan nodded vaguely, not entirely sure where Brick was leading him, but willing to follow.
Brick weaved through the crush of bodies on the dance floor with an ease that said he’d done this many times before, and Ethan tried to keep up, but his balance wavered, and it felt like walking on a ship caught in rough seas.
The dance floor was like a mythical beast—a writhing sea of people packed so tightly together that no one had room to breathe, let alone move freely. Sweat glistened on bare skin under the flashing lights, pooling in collarbones and dripping down spines, soaking into crop tops and ripped tank tops alike.
The sour tang of perspiration and spilled liquor clung to Ethan’s nostrils.
Someone bumped into him—a guy who glittered from head to toe like he’d been dipped in sequins and stardust. His mesh shirt clung to his damp skin as he spun away without even glancing back. A second later, Ethan’s shoulder brushed against a woman with a buzz cut dyed vivid green; her leather jacket gleamed under the lights as she threw her head back and laughed at something her partner whispered into her ear.
She moved against the woman with extremely long, pink hair—that Ethan decided must be a wig—with an unyielding rhythm, her feet never missing a beat despite the maelstrom swirling around them.
“Keep up!” Brick hollered over his shoulder without looking back. His voice barely carried over the bassline that seemed to grow louder with every step closer to their destination.
“I’m trying!” Ethan shot back, though it came out slurred and was half-lost in the noise as he pushed through another knot of dancers—a large group screaming in unison to whatever remix was blaring from overhead speakers.
The energy was infectious but overwhelming—thrilling and suffocating all at once.
Ethan’s gaze darted around the labyrinth that was Lucy’s. Two men passionately making out against the wall instantly drew his attention, though they were oblivious to him… and the bartender pouring shots with one hand while tossing a shaker in the other, and a tall guy near the DJ booth throwing up his arms like some kind of self-appointed hype man.
Brick stopped at the entrance to a roped-off area, which glowed red under its softer lighting. The VIP Lounge. A bouncer stood guard at the entrance, his massive arms crossed over his equally massive chest, which was clad in black tactical gear that made him look more suited for a war zone than nightlife security.
Brick flashed something—maybe cash or maybe just his signature cocky grin—and within seconds of bumping fists they were waved through like royalty entering a castle.
Ethan followed on autopilot. Still reeling from sensory overload, he was unable to shake off the electric buzz crawling under his skin—either adrenaline or alcohol—or maybe both.
“You’re gonna love this,” Brick said once they were inside where things felt marginally quieter, though no less surreal.
Ethan wasn’t sure if “love” was exactly what he’d call it, but whatever lay ahead promised to be better than what he’d just left behind.
His chest tightened, the grip of emotion squeezing hard as Logan’s face flickered into his mind. Those sauna kisses—they weren’t just hot, they were unforgettable. And then what happened in the bedroom… Oh, God, the way Logan’s hands knew where to touch , how he pulled Ethan apart and put him back together all at once.
It wasn’t just lust, it was something deeper, something that now twisted in his gut like a knife.
He slumped onto one of the many barstools, the plush leather groaning softly beneath his weight. The expensive texture was smooth under his hands, contrasting with the rough denim of his jeans. He leaned forward, elbows on the cool metal edge of the bar, head heavy as his thoughts weighed it down.
“Yo,” Brick called out, waving a neon-green pass in the air like a victory flag.
The barman, a wiry guy with a shaved head that gleamed under the soft gold lights, nodded in acknowledgment. His lip ring caught the light as he lined up a row of glasses.
The shots sat on the glossy, white-lit bar, glinting like liquid jewels. Ethan wasn’t sure he wanted more alcohol, his head already felt like it was filled with cotton and the room was swaying every time he shifted his weight—lilting like a ship caught in a lazy swell.
They’d started drinking back at his apartment. Brick cracking open the crate of cheap beer while he talked smack about one of the Commanders at the base and traded war stories, which grew more exaggerated with every drink.
By the time they hit the dive near base, Ethan had lost count of exactly how many they’d downed. Brick was still grinning that wolfish grin of his, that said he could drink the entire town dry. Now here they were in what might be the trendiest lounge Ethan had ever set foot in with ten shots lined up on the bar.
It felt less like drinks with a friend and more like a challenge, and Ethan wasn’t sure he was up for it.
His hand drifted to his pocket and almost unconsciously, he pulled out his phone. The screen lit up with a familiar wallpaper—an old photo of him and Logan, from months ago, the orange desert sunset dazzling behind them.
No new texts.
Ethan swiped quickly through his messages, a sinking feeling in his stomach.
Hey, you good?
Sorry… text me back, please…
Can we talk? Please Logan…
The words stared back at him like tiny accusations embedded into the screen—each pathetic message betraying just how drunk he was when he sent them.
Still no reply. The silence was agonizing, and a dull ache gnawed at him even beneath the layer of alcohol.
“Here…” Brick jolted him out of his thoughts, shoving one of the many shot glasses into his hand. The liquid sloshed dangerously close to spilling over the rim as Ethan grabbed it.
Brick’s intense gaze narrowed slightly when he saw him pocketing his phone again. “Hey,” he said, leaning in so Ethan couldn’t brush him off. “Whoever she is… forget her.” He gestured broadly around the room with his other hand, where couples and singles alike swayed to the music or chatted animatedly at tables. “Plenty of hot one-night stands in here to take your mind off Miss-Mystery.”
Ethan blinked, his brow furrowing before he finally managed to croak out, “What woman?” His voice was thick and hoarse from both booze and emotion.
“What woman?” Brick rolled his eyes dramatically before throwing back another shot like it was water. “That chick you’re texting every ten minutes,” he said, alternating between gulps of beer and tequila.
“It’s not a…” Ethan shook his head slowly, rubbing a hand across his face as if that might clear away some of the fog clouding both his mind and heart. “It’s not actually a woman.”
Brick paused mid-swig, lowering his beer with an exaggerated tilt of his head. “Not a woman?” He repeated slowly, dragging out each word for emphasis before breaking into a wide grin. “Well, hot damn! I did not see that coming.” He clapped Ethan on the back hard enough he almost fell off the stool.
“It’s not funny,” Ethan muttered, voice barely audible over the music pulsing through hidden speakers behind them.
“Well, whoever it is…” Brick said more seriously this time, though there was still an edge of teasing to his tone. “…you’re letting them screw with your head.” He gestured to Ethan’s empty shot glass before sliding another in front of him like he was a bartender-in-training.
Ethan hesitated for a long moment, but eventually he raised the glass to his lips. The liquid burned all the way down his throat. Tequila? Maybe? Hell, he couldn’t tell anymore, and at this point it all tasted like fire.
“You gotta kick back and let loose,” Brick declared, finishing yet another drink without missing a beat, despite having consumed what should’ve been enough to knock him out twice over.
Ethan wasn’t sure if letting loose was possible tonight, not when Logan’s ghost lingered so vividly in every corner of his mind.
“Look, if you’ve got some sort of a problem goin’ on, I wanna hear it.” Brick leaned across the bar top, his elbows braced on the edge as he tried to catch Ethan’s gaze. His brows knitted together, his frown more worry than irritation. “So, you fancy a dude? So what?” He seriously hoped his face didn’t betray how much he was struggling to process the new intel.
Ethan… fancied men? He downed a shot. Ethan… his teammate and brother liked men not women? Hell, maybe he liked both?
He downed one more tequila.
Brick’s thoughts tangled his brain like barbed wire. He wasn’t sure if it was the over consumption of liquor or if he genuinely couldn’t wrap his head around it.
Ethan shrugged, his shoulders rising and falling with a heaviness that seemed too much for one person to bear. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes remained focused on the small ring of liquid left behind by his glass. “Brick, have you ever… you know… wondered what it’d be like?”
Brick blinked, caught completely off guard by the question. Wondered what what would be like? His gaze darted around the room, searching for a distraction, maybe even an escape route. But all he found were other people kissing in dimly lit booths, the barman polishing glasses with mechanical precision, and colored lights dancing with themselves in the mirrors.
Lucy’s suddenly felt a whole lot smaller.
Brick’s mind flickered back to the flyer on Ethan’s counter—the one with bright pink colors and a pride flag in the corner. He swallowed hard. “Are you sayin’…” He hesitated before continuing, unsure if he even wanted an answer. “You think you might be gay?”
The word felt foreign on his tongue, but he pushed it out anyway because his best friend deserved honesty, even if he wasn’t entirely sure how to navigate this conversation himself.
Ethan shrugged again. “I don’t think I’m gay,” he said slowly, dragging out the words as though testing them, then let out a long sigh that came from somewhere deep inside him. “I mean, I don’t fancy men,” he clarified at last. “Just a man—” His fingers traced idle patterns on the top of the bar, avoiding Brick’s gaze as he spoke. “—a friend,” he added quickly, almost defensively. “Maybe it’s just a friendship thing.”
“Uh…” Brick scratched at the back of his neck awkwardly, grasping for something helpful to say, but coming up short.
He stared at Ethan for a long time, trying to make sense of what he’d just heard. His jaw worked soundlessly before he forced out words to fill the silence that was becoming a wide chasm between them. “It’s not me, is it?” The question came out half-joking but was tinged with genuine unease. “Cause, you know… I’m not—I mean…” His brow furrowed as he tried to gauge Ethan’s reaction. “I like you, man. Hell, you’re my best buddy, and sure, you’re a good-lookin’ guy and all that, but I just don?—”
“It’s not you.” Ethan interrupted quickly, saving Brick from further embarrassment. “Not you,” he repeated more firmly this time.
Brick let out an audible sigh. “Hell, for a sec there…” He chuckled, then trailed off, frowning slightly and quirking a brow with mock indignation. “Should I be offended by that? Are you saying I’m not hot? Cause, I’ll have you know, I’m prime Texan beef—hundred percent grade-A!”
He puffed out his chest for effect, then shoved another shot across the counter to Ethan. It was a silent gesture of solidarity that said: I’m here for you, whatever you need.
His tone shifted and when he spoke again, it was lighter. “All right,” he said, setting his stool in unfamiliar territory. “But there is someone yankin’ your chain. So, who is it?”
Ethan stilled, and his hand retreated from the glass as though burned by the question. His head dropped into his hands, fingers threading through his hair, trying to physically hold himself together against the storm that was raging inside him.
“I can’t tell you,” he muttered after what felt like an eternity.
His voice cracked under the weight of those words—raw and vulnerable in ways Brick had never heard before. He frowned deeply at Ethan’s pain and his own helplessness to fix it, but pressed on anyway because that’s what friends did—even when things got messy or uncomfortable or downright incomprehensible.
“He military? Oh, hell… do I know him?” There was no accusation, only curiosity and concern, but it was enough to let Ethan know Brick wasn’t dropping this anytime soon.
“I…” Ethan shook his head without looking up. “I can’t,” he repeated softly.
Brick took a deep breath and for once in his life… he didn’t push back.
“Heyyy there, cowboyyyy… you wanna buy a girl a drink?” a giggling blonde slid her arms around Brick’s neck. Her voice purred, lipstick bright as she flashed Ethan a flirty smile.
He looked away, sipping from his bottle, nerves jangling.
“Abbey! Holy shit…” Brick beamed, clearly knowing her. “Ethan, man, you good there?”
“I’m fine,” he lied as he quickly gathered himself. He was too drunk, and that was too fucking close. “Put it down to the tequila.”
Brick nodded to the barman, then turned to Abbey. “So, what’d you want?”
“I want you to come meet my friend first,” she chirped. “I told her about you and she’d love to say hi.” Her hand rubbed Brick’s ass, squeezing it teasingly. “Bring him with you.”
“You wanna go meet the ladies?” Brick flashed his best shit-eating grin.
“No, you go, I’ll join you in a while,” Ethan said, waving him off. “I need some water. I don’t feel so great.”
“Ok, if you’re sure, but I’ll stay if you wanna talk?” Brick raised a brow but thankfully, Ethan gestured him away. “Alright. Come on then, Miss Abbey…” he circled his arm around the blonde woman’s waist, “let’s go meet your friend.”
As they wandered off, Ethan turned to face the bar and took a last sip of his beer. A huge hulk of a man accidentally bumped his arm, and the stool beneath him wobbled, spilling the beer down his chin.
“Oh, hell, I’m sorry,” Hulk-man said in a deep, somewhat familiar voice. “Let me get you another.”
Ethan blinked twice before recognition clicked in. “Devon?” he smiled.
“Ethan!” Devon grinned, all teeth and charm, his short-sleeved shirt rolled up, buttons undone, baring a chiseled chest. “How you doing, brah?” He raked his eyes—quick and appreciative—over the younger man, before scanning the room. “Logan not with you?”
“Er... no,” Ethan sighed, the sound of Logan’s name an arrow in his heart. “Not tonight.”
“So you’re on your own?” Devon’s smile widened, hunger glinting in his eyes. “Let me get you that drink.”
Ethan eyed his empty bottle, and the too many empty shot glasses. More booze was the last thing he needed, but refusal felt rude. “Sure, I’ll take another.” He raised his bottle toward the bartender.
He watched Devon, his shirt straining over those massive biceps, order two beers before he excused himself from his group with a casual salute.
“You wanna grab a booth?” He nodded to the empty one with plush red cushions across the lounge. “You look like you could use a more comfortable seat.”
Ethan slid off the stool, then almost collapsed into the booth, the cushions sinking under his drunken weight.
Devon settled across from him, beer in hand as he studied him. “So, what you doing out in the wild all alone?” His gaze lingered. Ethan’s thighs stretching his jeans, the white tee clinging tight to his chest, every curve honed by SEAL grit. He couldn’t look away, desire flickering as he sipped. “You and Logan good after the spa?”
“Uh... yeah,” Ethan glanced away. Devon knew, he’d seen that heat rise in his cheeks. “It was good, thanks.” He coughed. “But you know... there’s nothing going on between us. We’re just friends… teammates.”
Devon choked. “Really? Nothing going on?” He stifled a grin. “Guess I musta got my wires crossed, cause the way you were eye fuckin’ him during that massage? Hell, you got it bad, dude. But...” he shrugged, “what do I know?”
“Well, you’ve definitely got it wrong.” Ethan shook his head, as bile rose inside him. Someone saw, someone knew. “It’s not like that between us.”
Devon leaned back, hands behind his head, chest flexing under the open shirt. “Oh come on, Ethan, I’ve known Logan for years. He doesn’t bring just anyone for a massage. He likes you, it’s obvious as hell.” He sighed, his grin softening. “You know, I was jealous at first—you with him. But by the end… I was more jealous of Logan, getting to have you all to himself. Still, if you say there’s nothing going on then…”
His hand landed on Ethan’s thigh, warm and firm as he leaned in and unexpectedly kissed him full on the lips.
Too drunk to respond instantly, Ethan let it happen and for one hazy beat he even kissed him back.
“Whoa…” he quickly shoved Devon off. “I’m flattered, but I’m not…” He sighed, flustered as he stared at Devon’s chiseled face. Sharp jaw, dark eyes, a cologne that smelled like cedar and sin. “I don’t… with guys, I mean.”
“Really?” Devon sat back, watching Ethan’s nerves flare. “Could’ve sworn you were giving me the green light.” He leaned in, cupping the younger man’s face before forcing his tongue past his lips.
His kiss was bold and insistent, but Ethan jerked away, head spinning. Sure, Devon was hot… muscles rippling, that scent dizzying, but this… it wasn’t right. “I can’t,” he sighed again. “You are really attractive, but I can’t do this.”
“Oh, boy… you really do have it bad for him, don’t you?” Devon leaned across and grabbed his beer from the table. “There are some things you need to know about Logan. He’s not gay. He just dips in sometimes. So if you’re dreaming of love, and promises—the romance and fairy tales—it won’t happen with Logan. I should know. I was his first, and things got pretty intense for a while, but in the end, he couldn’t give me what I wanted. He won’t cross over that line. And with him being your team leader… that’s a hot mess waiting to happen.”
Ethan frowned, his gut somersaulting before it twisted in knots. “You and Logan...?”
“That’s right,” Devon nodded. “We had a thing. Sure, it was a while back, but I still know how his mind works. He’s your CO, there’s no way he’ll risk more than a casual fling.” He leaned back, hands behind his head, chest flexing, a tempting wall of muscle drunk Ethan couldn’t ignore. “Have you taken it all the way yet, or is he still promising things while he figures out what he wants?”
Devon slid his hand up Ethan’s thigh, slow and firm, eyes boring into his. “You need a distraction, someone to show you what it’s like to be with a real man.” His hand climbed quickly, pulling at Ethan’s neck before he kissed him hard. “You could have anyone you want in here, man or woman. Let’s take this back to your place? I promise, I’ll give you everything you want.”
Devon wasn’t Logan, but the heat, his scent, that offer… it made him hesitate. He resisted. “I need the men’s room.”
“Sure.” Devon sat back. “But don’t take too long. I don’t wanna kill the mood. I’ll grab us some drinks while I wait.”