Chapter 28
CHAPTER 28
Ethan felt restless as he paced, trying to walk off the knot of energy twisting in his gut. His BDUs rubbed against his thighs, while the weight of his tactical vest pressed down on his shoulders, a steady reminder of the hours ahead.
Rows of cages lined the locker room walls. Dents marred their surfaces, each one etched with the memory of a slammed fist or overloaded gear bags thrown in frustration.
Ethan stopped at his own cage for the tenth time in five minutes, moving things he’d rearranged already: a half-full water bottle, a spare magazine, a folded khaki shirt. He picked each item up in turn, examining it as if searching for imperfections, only to place it back exactly where he found it.
He glanced at his watch, then rubbed at his temple, trying to soothe the dull throb that lingered stubbornly from last night. The pain wasn’t just in his head. There was an ache deeper than that—an emotional ache tied to Logan.
Last night had been everything he’d wanted. After months of stolen glances and silent tension, they’d finally crossed the line they’d both danced around for ages. But this morning?
This morning, he’d woken up alone. No note on the pillow, no whispered goodbye before slipping out the door, just an empty space where Logan should have been.
The silence stung worse than any bruise on his body.
We need to talk before this briefing, he thought, his mind racing with things he might say, none of which felt right. I need to know where I stand before we head out—before this all gets swallowed by the mission.
Another glance at his watch. Time was slipping away from him.
He grabbed his cap and tugged it low over his brow, readying to leave when movement outside the open door caught his attention.
Logan walked past, Brick at his side. Their boots clumped on the hard floor, their strides purposeful and synchronized.
Ethan’s heart leaped to his throat as he hurried after them. “Hey,” he called out, his voice cracking from nerves as he closed the distance.
Brick glanced back first—a quick flick of dark eyes beneath a furrowed brow. “Hey,” he gave a quick greeting as Ethan drew near.
Logan slowed enough for Ethan to catch up, but didn’t stop walking; his gaze focused ahead.
Ethan fell into step beside them and forced a smile at Brick before shifting all his attention to Logan. “Could I have a word before we start?” His tone was casual on the surface, but there was an undercurrent of urgency he couldn’t quite mask.
Logan’s finally lifted his gaze, but only for a brief moment before it flicked to his watch. His jaw tightened visibly beneath the shadow of dark stubble dusting his face—a sign of annoyance Ethan had come to recognize. “We’re already late,” he said, all business, as if reading a script designed to shut down further conversation. “Briefing starts in five.”
“Two minutes,” Ethan pressed quickly. “That’s all I need.” He tried to keep his tone casual but couldn’t stop the edge of desperation creeping in around the edges. “It’s important.” His words wavered as he nodded toward Brick in silent apology for interrupting.
Logan inhaled sharply through flared nostrils as if forcing himself to stay composed despite whatever storm brewed behind those piercing eyes. He stopped and turned to face Ethan directly now, arms crossing over his chest, a defensive posture that spoke louder than words.
Ethan swallowed but refused to back down despite how much smaller he suddenly felt. He squared his shoulders and took a deep breath before glancing quickly at Brick, who shifted uncomfortably, like he wanted to be anywhere else but here.
“It’s about last night…” he started before trailing off as Logan’s expression hardened.
“What about last night?” Logan interrupted tersely, one brow lifting while impatience flashed across his face like lightning ready to tear open a storm cloud. He groaned then glanced at Brick. “Alright, but make it quick.”
“Thanks,” Ethan smiled faintly, relief flickering as they turned back toward the locker room. He pressed a hand to Brick’s chest, halting him. “It’s personal, if you know what I mean.”
Brick’s easy grin faltered, and confusion seeped into his expression. The look he shot Ethan wasn’t subtle. “Fine,” he shrugged, his broad shoulders rolling with careless ease as he raised both hands in mock surrender before shoving them into the pockets of his fatigues. “Anyways…” His grin returned as he continued, pivoting topics without pause, “I need to grab some coffee. I’m tellin’ y’all, I can’t sit through another one of Cussler’s snooze-fests without a jug of caffeine. Guy can drone on about rules of engagement like it’s the most riveting thing in the world.”
He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially even though no one else was there. “You missed a wild one last night.” His grin widened into something sly and wicked as he gave Ethan a knowing wink. “Those freakin’ girls, man. Hell, they sure know how to party. That Abbey… Oh boy, what a minx that one turned out to be. She did this thing with her tongue… blew my fuckin’ mind.”
Ethan shifted uncomfortably as Brick rambled on, but Brick didn’t care. “Could’ve used my wingman, for sure.” His laughter bubbled over as he gave a teasing nudge to Ethan’s shoulder.
Ethan and Logan stood impassive, arms crossed and faces carved from stone.
“Guess you had to be there,” Brick coughed and rubbed the back of his neck before he gestured vaguely to the corridor in front of him. “I’ll leave you to it.”
Ethan watched as Brick disappeared before turning toward the locker room.
He paused for a second, fingers hovering over the door as if steeling himself for what was about to unfold.
Logan pushed through ahead of him, his boots thudding against the floor as he crossed to the far side of the room. His posture was rigid, shoulders squared, spine straight, and there was a tension in his movements that betrayed his unease. He again folded his arms across his chest like armor and leaned against the cage furthest away from Ethan.
The distance felt deliberate.
Ethan let the door swing shut, then wedged his toe against the base. His boot locked it in place—a simple guarantee of privacy.
Logan didn’t look at him as he dug into his pocket and pulled out a pack of gum. Popping a piece into his mouth, he began chewing fast, the snap of the gum breaking like tiny gunshots in the quiet. He then yanked open the locker next to him and rummaged inside for something—anything—to occupy his hands.
A pen rolled out and dropped onto the floor, and he snatched it up only to toss it back with an audible clink. “So what’s this about?” he finally demanded, straightening to fix Ethan with a glare—chewing the gum frantically, as if trying to mask whatever emotions simmered beneath the surface.
Ethan loitered by the door. “I just…” he hesitated. “I just wanted to say thanks.”
“Thanks? Thanks for what?” Logan asked sharply.
“For last night. You were gone before I could say anything this morning… I thought you’d stay what with it…” Ethan’s voice faltered slightly, then he pressed on regardless, “…it being our first time.”
Logan’s frown deepened, a storm gathering behind his eyes as he gave an impatient wave of his hand to cut Ethan off. “Yeah,” he said tersely around another snap of gum. “You said that already in your text.” His tone was blunt, and he leaned back against the locker with an air of indifference that didn’t quite match how tightly wound he seemed beneath all the bravado.
“What?” he continued when Ethan didn’t respond. “Your feelings got crushed cause I didn’t kiss you goodbye? Is that what this is about?” He shrugged, a dismissive gesture that landed harder than anything he said might have, and fixed Ethan with an icy stare. “You need to grow up, and get in the real world,” he added coldly before dropping his eyes to his cage.
Ethan flinched. “And that’s all you’ve got to say?” His voice cracked, his words teetering between anger and disbelief. He moved from the door and stepped closer. “You’re really not going to say anything about last night? No ‘I enjoyed it,’ no ‘it was great,’ not even a simple ‘thanks for the good time’? Just this—” He gestured sharply towards Logan, his hand slicing through the air, cutting the tension. “—this iceman ‘I don’t care’ bullshit?”
Logan was now shoving gear into a large canvas duffel, and his head snapped up. His jaw tightened, the hard line of his mouth betraying his frustration. His eyes locked onto Ethan’s, and for a moment, the air between them seemed to vibrate with the unspoken tension. “No,” he said sharply, the word a shard of ice. “I told you before… that part of my life doesn’t belong in here. And you need to get that through your thick head.”
He took a step forward, closing the space between them until they were almost chest-to-chest. His voice dropped to become harder. “The Logan you saw last night—the one who let his guard down—that’s not who I am here. What he does, what he feels… it doesn’t belong in this world of mine.”
He inhaled deeply, his broad shoulders rising and falling with the effort. For a moment, it looked like he might soften, but then he exhaled harshly, shaking his head as if dismissing the thought altogether. “See…” His tone shifted to something bitter and self-recriminating. “This is why it was a mistake. Sleeping with you—it crossed a fucking line I should’ve never let get blurred. I knew it was wrong. Fuck, I knew it would screw things up.” He hesitated, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “But I did it anyway.”
Ethan flinched. Logan’s words were like blows, each one more bruising than the last. His chest tightened, and he struggled to keep his voice steady. “So that’s it? You’re just going to write it off like it meant nothing?”
Logan didn’t answer immediately, just zipped his duffel with a finality that made Ethan’s stomach churn.
Ethan couldn’t take any more. He stepped forward in a rush of emotion to close the distance between them. The weight of his gear shifted on his shoulders, but he barely noticed. All he could see was Logan—the man who had kissed him so tenderly just hours ago now wearing an expression so cold it physically hurt.
“Look at me,” he demanded with equal parts anger and vulnerability.
When Logan didn’t respond, Ethan instinctively reached out, grabbing his arm firmly enough to make him look up. The muscle under his grip was solid and tense. “Dammit, Logan, talk to me,” Ethan snapped.
His fingers trembled slightly as they cupped Logan’s cheek, feeling the rough stubble beneath them. It felt different from the soft warmth of the night before.
He leaned in until their lips brushed together in a fleeting kiss—a whisper of contact that spoke volumes more than words ever could. “I didn’t get to say thank you.” His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he whispered, “I had a really good time… and I’d like to do it again.”
For a heartbeat that stretched impossibly long, Logan didn’t move. He just stared at Ethan, his expression almost unreadable, but then fury erupted from inside him, like lightning striking the ground.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he roared as his hands shot out and grabbed Ethan by the collar.
The world tilted violently as he shoved him back with enough force to slam him against the cage behind them. The metal rattled loudly under the impact, its cold bite pressed into Ethan’s back even through layers of fabric and gear.
Logan loomed over him like an unstoppable force—his knuckles white where they gripped the khaki shirt tightly enough to strain the seams. “I fucking told you,” he growled through clenched teeth, a low rumble that sent shivers down Ethan’s spine for entirely different reasons than last night had. “This thing between us, it doesn’t happen here! Not at work. You can’t just come at me like this.”
Ethan winced but refused to look away despite everything in him screaming to do so. “I… I just wish you hadn’t left like that this morning. I imagined…” he continued hesitantly, “if we ever did sleep together… we’d have breakfast or talk or maybe even cuddle.” A mirthless laugh escaped him as tears threatened but refused to fall. “Guess I was stupid for thinking that.”
Logan blinked, his lashes lowering as if shielding something buried beneath. A flicker of vulnerability—raw, fleeting, and almost imperceptible—broke through before he slammed it shut behind walls of steel.
“Get the fuck away from me!” His jaw tightened, and a muscle twitched as he released Ethan’s shirt and shoved him back with considerable force. He was trying to create distance not just between their bodies, but their hearts, too.
He raked both hands through his dark hair in frustration, tugging at the strands as though trying to drag himself out of an internal battle. “I told you,” he continued, his tone slightly quieter but no less rigid. “This doesn’t come into work.” He paused, his chest rising and falling in an uneven rhythm as he steadied himself. “Look,” he said, not meeting Ethan’s eyes because meeting those eyes might undo him completely. “I’m not saying it won’t happen again… I’m just not planning it anytime soon.”
The words felt hollow as they left his mouth. He knew it, and so did Ethan.
He let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “You were a good time,” he added. “And yeah, I enjoyed it. Does that make you feel better?”
Ethan flinched as if punched. “No,” he said softly at first, then louder: “No, it doesn’t.” His lip quivered, and despite his efforts to hold steady, his hurt spilled over. Frustration turned into anger, rising like a tide he couldn’t stop.
How could this be the same man who’d held him so tenderly last night? Who had made him feel seen in ways no one else ever had?
That warmth was gone, replaced now by something cold and unrecognizable.
“Okay,” he finally said, squaring his shoulders, trying to keep himself from crumbling. “I get it. You don’t want anyone knowing. But why act like this?” Ethan’s hands clenched into fists at his sides as the ache spread like a fire across his chest.
Logan’s eyes flashed with frustration as he began pacing back and forth in tight circles like a caged animal searching for an escape. “It’s not about not wanting them to know,” he snapped, the words coming quick and defensive now. “They can’t know.” He stopped abruptly. “Do you have any fucking idea what happens if they find out?” He gestured wildly with one hand while the other rubbed the back of his neck like it might keep him from unraveling entirely.
He laughed and shook his head. “If that’s the kind of life you want with a guy… Fine,” he continued, spitting out each word like venom. “Go find Mr. Perfect—a man who can give you whatever dream you’ve got planned out in your head.” His voice dropped, dangerous and resolute, as he added, “But don’t drag me into it. I’m not him and this is not happening.”
Logan’s words hit hard, but despite every instinct screaming at him to walk away before he got hurt even worse, Ethan stepped closer.
“Please, don’t do this,” he pleaded as tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. He hated how fragile he sounded, but couldn’t stop himself from speaking, because if there was even a sliver of hope to salvage what was between them, he had to try. “Last night you cared. I felt it.” Clenching his hands into tight fists, Ethan willed himself to hold on. “You’re not this monster,” he said softly. “I know you.”
Logan let out another laugh, but there was no amusement behind it. He rubbed both hands over his face, then let them fall limply at his sides. “Monster?” he repeated bitterly. His lips curled into something resembling a smirk, but it was all defense, walls built high enough no one could climb over them… not even Ethan.
“I’m just being real with you.” Behind his words were layer upon layer of self-preservation—instincts honed over years of burying secrets so deeply that even he sometimes forgot where they were hidden. He would never let anyone in—not fully. Not even Ethan, who had already managed to get closer than anyone else ever had.
“Did you talk to Devon about us?” His smile twisted, cold and knowing. “Yeah, he told me you did.” He laughed, sharp and bitter. “You know he wants you,” he continued, his eyes narrowing as though he could see through Ethan’s defenses. “But let me tell you something—Devon will chew you up and spit you out. You think I’m hurting you? Devon is a whole other level of hurt. He’s not what you think.”
Ethan clenched his fists, then unclenched, only to clench again as if they couldn’t decide whether to hold back or strike out. “Hurt me like I am now?” he shot back. “Hurt me like you’ve hurt me?” His chest heaved as he took a step closer, his eyes blazing with anguish. “At least Devon won’t break my heart, because guess what… You already did!”
The words came out sharper than he intended, and truer than he wished they were. “And at least he checked on me this morning. Unlike you. So maybe it’s none of your damn business who I see. You’ve made it perfectly clear how you feel.”
Logan flinched. “Ethan…” he began, stepping forward to close the gap between them as if he might somehow bridge the growing chasm in their relationship. “Trust me on this… stay away from Devon. He doesn’t care for anyone but himself. He just takes what he wants. You’ll be nothing more than a notch on his belt, and when it ends—and it will—it won’t be pretty.” He exhaled slowly, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his own words. “My advice? Steer clear of Devon.”
Ethan laughed, and his frown deepened as he shook his head. “Where the fuck do you get off lecturing me about getting hurt? You of all people?” His voice cracked, but this time it was from sheer incredulity rather than anger. “Not after this.” He squared his shoulders and met Logan’s gaze head-on. “I’ll see whoever I damn well please, and it has nothing to do with you anymore.” He paused for a beat before adding, “Unless… you’re offering me something more?”
The silence that followed was deafening.
“No,” Ethan continued with resignation rather than rage. “No, you’re not even offering another night together… are you?”
Logan’s jaw worked as though he were grinding out words that refused to come. “You know what? Fine. You want to be together again? Sure.” His voice dripped with frustration as he gestured angrily between them. “We can do it again. But more than sex… No.” He shook his head, his tone hardening as though trying to convince himself as much as Ethan. “It can’t happen.”
He ran a hand through his hair, then checked his watch. “You’re on my team, and I won’t risk my career—or my family—for this.” He gestured vaguely at the space between them before adding, “Look at us, one night together and we’re already late for a briefing.”
Logan suddenly reached out, brushing a hand against Ethan’s cheek in apology. It was almost worse than if he’d walked away. “I’m sorry. Do you want me to stand you down from this op? Would that make things easier for you?”
Ethan bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from saying something he’d regret later. “Easier for me?” He laughed, a short bark that was equal parts anger and disbelief. There was no humor this time. “Don’t you mean easier for you. No, I’m good.” He crossed his arms over his chest defiantly and glared with a look that could have frozen fire. “I can handle an asshole treating me like shit. I should be used to it by now.”
“Oh, c’mon,” Logan pleaded, though there was still an edge of defensiveness to his tone. “That’s not fair.”
“Fair?” Ethan snapped back sharply. His voice rose as anger bubbled up inside him. But instead of continuing the argument, he just shook his head, and then without another word he turned on his heel, opened the door and stormed down the corridor without looking back.
Logan slumped against his cage. The cool metal pressing against his back offered little comfort for the regret curling in his chest. “ Shit, ” he muttered as he rubbed at his temples with both hands like they might somehow erase everything that had just happened or at least dull its edges enough to make it bearable again.
I shouldn’t have spoken to him like that.
He couldn’t shake the thought from his mind, and his head thumped back with a hollow clang that echoed faintly through the empty space.
“Fuck!” he muttered, quickly glancing at his watch. He was late, and with the weight of everything still pressing on him, he straightened his clothes and hurried along to the briefing room.