Chapter 38
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Christian
The scent of oil and metal fills my nostrils.
I’ve finally got the bike frame bolted together on a stand, stripped and bare. The powertrain sits in front of me—pieces organized and ready to go for the chassis: swing arm, rear shocks, front forks. Everything's waiting for me to coax it into working together.
I just hope I can finish in time.
Despite the early snow outside, I wipe sweat from my brow and line up the mounts meticulously.
This part is important. If I rush, it’ll all fail.
If I force it, the motherfucker will fight me later.
Learned that the hard way when Tay and I messed around with our dirt bikes in high school.
My front wheel flew clean the fuck off during a jump and I broke my ankle.
The pieces finally slip into place with a satisfying click, and I nod to myself as I reach for the torque wrench. Before I can continue my work, though, someone clears their throat from behind me.
Glancing over my shoulder, I spot Logan leaning against the doorframe. “What’s up?”
He shifts his weight almost anxiously. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”
Ah, fuck.
The tone of his voice has me getting to my feet with a grease rag in hand. “Uh, sure.”
“So… Owen and I found a place.”
I blink, honestly caught off guard. “A place?”
“Yeah. Two-bedroom near Sugar House. Pretty nice. Lease starts in January.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Logan grimaces. “You don’t sound okay.”
“I am. That’s… good. Tay told me you were looking.” I turn back to the bike so he doesn’t see my face, feeling awkward as fuck. “This isn’t about the oatmeal thing, is it?”
A choked laugh bubbles out of him. “Uh, no. It’s not. That was… it was fine. More than fine.”
Okay, Jesus. Never thought I’d be having this conversation with Logan of all people, but here we are. Guy’s tasted my cum twice now, so that makes us like… really good homies I guess.
“So you’re moving out,” I mumble, tightening up a sprocket with my back still turned.
“Yeah. You mad?”
“Why would I be? You’re an adult, man. Gotta move on at some point.”
Even though I was really liking the little uh… arrangement we had going on between our bedroom walls.
Logan steps closer to watch me work. “How long have you been working on this thing?”
“Couple weeks.”
“Wow. You’re building it fast.”
With a shrug, I grab a bolt and line up some clamps. “Keeping myself busy now that Taylor’s gone.”
And soon, you will be, too.
My chest begins to tighten, yet hollows out all at once. I’ve had Logan around for so long that it’s become normal. Without him and Tay keeping me company, well…
“I’ll just have to get used to the quiet,” I whisper to myself.
Logan studies the side of my face for a long moment. “You’ve got Dev now, you know.”
My hands go still. “Yeah. Maybe.”
“He’s trying, Christian. I can see it. So can you.”
“I know that.”
He crosses his arms and rests his hip against the workbench. “Are you worried he’ll hurt you?”
“…No. I think I’ve hurt him more than he’s hurt me.”
“Afraid he’ll relapse?”
“That’ll always be a possibility.” Blowing out a breath, I finally turn to look him in the eye. “I don’t know how to do things halfway, man.”
Logan gives me a crooked smile. “Then don’t. Some advice from a guy who came back from the dead and tracked his wife around the world? Lay your cards on the table. All or nothing. You’d be pleasantly surprised by what his answer is.”
“Hm,” I grunt, getting back to work.
He makes it sound so simple, but nothing has been simple between me and Dev since…
Well, ever, basically. Shit’s been helter-skelter from the start.
I didn’t know him well when he popped up out of nowhere, and after the stuff he pulled with Xed and Salem a couple years ago, I can’t say I particularly liked the guy. Even if I found him fuckhot.
Then Taylor—with his bleeding heart—invited him on the tour last year along with Logan and everything went south.
But maybe things were always destined to head that way with us.
Not just Dev and me, but this friend group as a whole.
Shit got better for Xed and Matty when they moved away, same for Salem.
Can’t say for sure with Huck and Tay, but from the looks of it, Huckslee’s art is taking off. Maybe…
Maybe all of us being around each other has been the fucking problem all along.
“Christ,” I breathe. The thought rips something open inside of me, and I throw my tools down with a clank.
“Hey, it’s okay.” Logan steps up quickly to brace my shoulder.
Swallowing hard, I stare at him as this newfound revelation nearly knocks me off my feet. “You need to leave.”
His hand drops away, face falling when he starts toward the door, but I grab his wrist tightly.
“No, I mean like moving out. Getting your own place with Owen. It’s good, man. You deserve your own life and space to grow, because none of us… None of us can do that around each other.”
Logan’s brows slam down. “What does that even mean?”
“Look at everyone else. Really look. They’ve all gotten happier since they left, and yet everyone who stays just keeps circling the same shit.
Including me.” Letting out a defeated sigh, I release him and sag against the workbench as I carefully consider my next words.
Ones I’ve never said to anyone, and I sure as hell have never spoken them out loud because they make me feel like the piece of shit that I am.
“Logan, man, I know we’re not like best buds or whatever, but I…
I honestly didn’t expect Devon to survive last year. Not really.”
That finally gets a strong reaction.
Logan jolts and straightens immediately. “Christian—”
“I’m serious. I thought he’d burn himself out, get caught up doing something dumb.
But I had Taylor to look after, right? Not that he needed me.
He hasn’t for a long time. But… Devon did.
He needed people. And when he showed back up at probably the worst moment in his life—” My throat tightens, cutting off my sentence, and I have to pause to clear it.
“I was so focused on this life I built with my best friend that I let Devon drown. We all did. How do you trust someone after that?”
Logan’s mouth opens, then shuts. He releases a long breath, visibly fighting for some kind of response. The longer the silence stretches on, the more my skin starts to itch.
“Anyway,” I say eventually, unsure why I unloaded onto Logan of all people. This should have been a Taylor conversation. “Moving on is good. It’s important. Hanging around here will only keep you stuck in the past.”
“Christian, listen.” Finally finding his voice, Logan places his hands on my arms. “People do change when they leave. It’s not a bad thing. Distance gives perspective. Space gives breathing room.”
My muscles tense as I brace for him to tell me how much I fucked up, how things between Dev and I are irreparable…
But he doesn’t.
“You didn’t let Devon drown,” he says instead. “You were treading water yourself.”
I scoff weakly. “Doesn’t feel like it.”
“That’s because guilt and grief don’t care about logic.”
It’s my turn to remain speechless now. I squint at him, waiting for an explanation.
“We all lost something last year, every single one of us. Be it a friendship, a relationship, or an outlook on life. What happened was…” He trails off, rubbing a hand over his jaw.
“It was fucked up. All of it. What I did with Dev, what you did. Salem hurting him. The crash. It changed everyone, and maybe not all for the better, but you know what? You thinking he wouldn’t make it just means you were scared. ”
And there it is.
I wrench my gaze toward the bike frame, feeling like it isn’t enough. Nothing ever will be. “I know. I’m a fucking coward—”
“But you let him back in anyway when he showed up again,” Logan continues softly. “You could’ve shut him out, and you didn’t. We can’t change the past, man, but we can sure as hell learn from it. And grow from it.”
I search his face as I let those words sink in. My heart thuds painfully against my ribs. “You think we could come back from something like that? Him and me?”
“Huck and Taylor did. Matty and Xed did. Salem and I figured it out. Maybe now it’s your turn to get it right.”
The shed suddenly feels stiflingly hot. Uncertainty traps the air inside my lungs, making it hard to breathe. “Even if he forgives me… I don’t know how to stop waiting for the other shoe to drop,” I admit softly.
Logan gently squeezes my shoulders. “You don’t. You just… decide not to live your whole life staring at the floor. Dev’s not asking for you to be perfect. He just wants you to be there. And I think you’ve been doing that more than you realize.”
With that, he bullshits some excuse about a work meeting and heads back inside. Honestly, I think he’s lying, and all this emotional baggage made him uncomfortable, but I let him go anyway because his parting words of wisdom bounce around in my skull.
“We can’t change the past, man, but we can sure as hell learn from it.”
“Maybe now it’s your turn to get it right.”
Picking up my wrench again, I tighten another clamp until it settles into place. Next up will be the motor, which I plan on salvaging once I can afford it. Then I’ll get some brand new wheels.
Slow and steady. One part at a time.
And maybe… maybe that’s how you rebuild most things.
Not by force, or by pretending nothing broke in the first place, but by choosing to try and fix it anyway.
The past won’t ever disappear. I know that. But it doesn’t need to own me, either.