by L. B. Dunbar
“But you married her,” Mason reminds him.
“She was pregnant, remember?” Did he feel trapped?
I don’t want you to think the endgame is a trap. Autumn’s concerns come back to me.
“I’m still sorry. Divorce sucks,” I interject. It can be a painful process, even if he didn’t love his wife. Plus, he still has two unruly boys connecting him to Jeanine for the rest of his life.
“So does marriage.” Zack swipes a hand into his hair and pauses on the top of his head. “What the fuck am I going to do?”
“Zack, man, you have this.” He’s capable and intelligent. He already has a nanny, but he might need to cut back some hours at work and do a little better at being present as a father for his boys.
“You fuck the nanny. Hire a full-time au pair. Fuck her, too, and then you quit your lame ass job and come work for Four Points,” Mason states.
“Mason.” What a dick. “We aren’t discussing au pairs.”
“I’m not giving up my monsters to Jeanine. She doesn’t want them anyway.”
“How do you know she doesn’t want the boys?” I ask, shifting on the couch cushion to better face my friend, who slouches into his like he wants to melt into the material.
“Because she said she never wanted children, and she never loved me, and now she’s going to go off and fuck her little toy while my dick shrivels up.”
“Oh my God, Zack. Shut the fuck up. Your dick is not going to shrivel up. Not that I want to discuss your dick. I’m sure it’s a very nice dick, but we aren’t talking about it.”
Mason starts to laugh, and Zack smiles. “That’s why I love you, man.” His hand limply smacks at my knee. “Funny man.”
“Well, funny man wouldn’t know about dick shriveling. His dick is getting some serious use, lucky bastard.” Mason lifts the bottle for a quick drink, and I don’t know how he has the stomach for such action at our age.
“My dick is not overused, but we aren’t discussing my dick either,” I tell my two drunk friends.
“Better than abused,” Mason sarcastically mutters.
“As if your dick has been abused,” I snark.
“Too many women want it. Not the right woman.”
“Who?” I snap, curious. We’ve all thought Mason might harbor some resentment toward an old crush gone wrong, but we have no clue who it is. I’m doubtful it’s Samantha, Lynlee’s mother.
“No can say,” he mumbles through a drunken half-smile.
“Don’t say,” Zack rolls his head back and forth on the cushions like he knows the answer Mason should never share the truth.
“You are one lucky man, though,” Mason adds, pointing a limp finger at me around the bottleneck in his fist. “Autumn has had the hots for you since she was a teen, and now look at you two. Making a baby together. Getting married.”
“What?” Zack turns to peer at me with unfocused eyes.
“You had to know,” I remind him. He was part of the discussions. “Remember her list, although she never really had a list.”
“Right, right,” Zack slurs. “A list. I should make a list. Maybe one of all the women I’d like to fuck, or the positions I want to try, or the things I want to do as I haven’t had sex in so long I’m not certain I remember what it is.”
Dear God, that was more than we needed to know about our Zacker. Mason snorts but turns his attention back to me.
“Seriously, though, congratulations, man.”
“On what?”
“I told you I’d be the first to congratulate you when you get engaged.” Mason’s comment reminds me of when he said such a thing outside Crossroads Café.
“I’m not getting married,” I huff. Although I thought it less than an hour ago, I’m not admitting it yet to these clowns.
“You’re getting married?” Zack’s voice rises an octave like a surprised and excited schoolgirl as if he wasn’t part of our conversation two seconds ago. “I’m married, too. But now I’m getting divorced.”
“Zack, buddy. You need to head to bed.” Zack and I share a room, the one with two twin beds, while Mason has the other room with a queen-sized bed.
“I need a bed,” he whispers. “I need to get laid so bad.” His lids start to close, and our friend is at the end of his tequila threshold.
Glancing over at Mason, I notice him watching me, but I don’t have any more words for him. I have a phone call to make to my hot as fuck girlfriend. We’re making this official, effective tonight.
29
[Autumn]
Logan: Will you be my girlfriend?
My phone lights up with the text as soon as I crawl into bed, and a smile instantly graces my face.
Logan: I’m told it’s not official unless I ask.
Me: Let me guess? Miss Bethany Simone?
Logan: ugh.
Me: Not a fan?
Logan: Bad news girl.
Me: Sorry.
Logan: You didn’t answer my question. I want to go steady. Will you be my girl?
Me: Do people go steady anymore? What does that even mean?
Logan: Answer the fucking question.
I laugh.
Me: Yes.
Logan: Also answer this question. Are you thinking of me?
Me: Yes.
Logan: Want me in your bed?
My breath hitches, and I momentarily wonder if he’ll say he’s outside my door, but the thought quickly dissipates. He needs to stay at Ben’s place for Lorna.
Me: Yes, but it’s late and—
The phone rings in my hand.
“Now I’m in your bed with you,” he says the second I answer, and I laugh again. “God, I want to be next to you.”
“This is torture,” I admit, softening my voice as I want to curl up next to him as well.
“But we’re doing this.” A question lingers in his tone.
“We’re doing this,” I affirm.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“Technically, it is tomorrow,” I tease.
“Alright, lady. Get some rest.”
“Night, Logan.”
“Night, beautiful.” His voice lingers in my head once we hang up, and I could get very used to this every night.
+ + +
The following morning, I need to work at Crossroads Café and take a rain check on my breakfast plans with Lorna. As I hadn’t planned on Logan being in town, I hadn’t taken time off to spend with him and his daughter. He surprises me by showing up at the café, and I take a five-minute break to kiss him like crazy just outside the building.
“Later,” he mutters as he pulls away from me, both of us breathing heavily. “Can you spend the night at Ben’s?”
I’m certain I can, but I’ll still check in with Anna first. “Why do I feel like a teenager sneaking around?” I tease before he kisses me once more.
“Because you’re still a baby compared to me.”
I laugh as that isn’t true, but I do feel young and energized whenever I’m around him.
“Later,” I whisper.
Later, I head to the beach to join the guys. Anna kicked everyone out of the house, overwhelmed by guests on their first weekend. I offered to help her when I arrived, but she told me to get lost as well.
“I still think we should do it if we can get pansy-ass on board.” Mason’s voice carries as I approach.
“Leave him alone,” Ben defends.
“We can’t do this without him,” Mason whines, and I’m wondering what’s going on.
“What’s up?” I ask, announcing myself. Logan shifts in his seat as his back was to me when I hit the sand. Slowly, he smiles as he looks at me over his shoulder, and then he stands. I want to step up to him, sink into his chest, and hold him, but I scan the beach for Lorna.
“Hey,” he whispers, reaching out to rub his hand up my back before tugging me by the back of the neck to him for a quick hug.
“Where’s Lorna?” I ask, keeping my voice low like we’re s
haring a secret.
“She’s down the beach with Mila. Come. Sit.” Logan steps back like it was totally normal to hug me before his friends, and I glance up to find my brother staring at me.
“Is this official?” Ben points back and forth between us, not mincing words.
“It’s official,” Logan says, reaching over for my hand as we sit in beach chairs next to one another. Lifting my hand for his lips, he kisses my knuckles. “But new, so don’t be a dick.”
I chuckle at Logan’s scolding of my brother.
“The only one being a dick is you,” Mason mumbles.
“Mason, leave it,” Zack mutters behind dark sunglasses and a ball cap on his head.
“What’s going on?” I ask, glancing around the circle of men before focusing on Logan.
“It’s nothing,” he says, looking away from me a second, but Mason interjects. “If it’s official, you shouldn’t keep secrets from her.”
I don’t care for his tone or his meddlesome suggestion. He’s stirring up trouble, and he knows it because now I know Logan isn’t telling me something, and I can’t simply ignore that.
“Tell me,” I teasingly whine.
“Mason has this idea that we should work together,” Logan explains, narrowing his eyes at his friend.
“Really?” Excitement flows in both my response and my immediate thoughts. Does this mean Logan would move closer to Lakeside?
“When we were in college, Mason had this idea—” Ben begins.
“We had an idea,” Mason interjects, correcting Ben’s explanation.
“We had an idea to go into business together. We’d be a full-service construction company complete with landscape design. Zack would handle legal for us.”
I scan the group again. “Wow. That sounds amazing. What happened?”
“Logan won’t commit.”
“It’s not that easy,” Logan defends.
“Because you need to live here?” I wonder.
“Among other things,” he replies, lowering his voice and avoiding my eyes. Sitting forward, he releases my fingers to balance his elbows on his thighs. “Mason thinks it’d be easy to just leave my job with benefits and dive into this project that involves a four-way investment from each of us.”
I sympathize if Logan doesn’t have the money. I didn’t have the funds for Crossroads Café until my father passed and left me a little nest egg he’d been saving for me.
“I could front your portion,” Zack says, and Logan sighs. I’m sensing this has already been a part of their discussion.
“Do we really need to keep rehashing this? I have Lorna to consider. Life is . . . complicated. I’m sorry, but I’m not interested.” Logan stands and saunters toward Lorna, who is returning to this portion of the beach with Mila and Bryce.
Glancing at Ben, my brother shrugs, brushing off the awkwardness that remains.
“Maybe he doesn’t have the money,” I state, lowering my voice to defend Logan.
“Maybe he’s just chickenshit to make a change in life,” Mason snaps. It’s an unfair argument as Logan has gone through a major change with his ex-wife leaving the country and obtaining full custody of his daughter. A change he hasn’t had the time to adjust to quite yet.
“It’s not as easy for everyone else to just pick up and go,” Zack argues, inferring Mason’s sudden move to Ben’s garage, or maybe Ben’s rush to move to Lakeside.
“Whatever,” Mason mumbles like a petulant teen. “I need out of the sun.” Mason presses himself up from his chair and stumbles off for the wooden stairs leading upward.
“Is he drunk?” I ask, watching Mason sway as he walks through the sand.
“He’s hungover,” Ben answers.
“We both are,” Zack admits. “The devil is named tequila.”
“Oh God. Aren’t you a little old for the worm?”
“Yes.” Zack chuckles. “But then again, I never want to feel too old for anything ever again.” It’s an ominous statement, and I don’t know what he means. He stands next and follows Mason, picking up a cooler that must be empty and carrying it with him up the stairs.
“Was it something I said?” I ask as the circle of chairs is now clear minus myself and my brother.
“It’s not you. It’s them.” Ben looks off toward Logan and Bryce tossing a football over Mila’s and Lorna’s heads.
“Is everyone acting weird because of . . .” I can’t bring myself to say the words.
“Yes,” Ben answers adamantly, squinting off at his children. “Maybe I shouldn’t have told them yet. Maybe I should have waited.”
“Ben,” I whisper and clear my throat. “They’re your best friends. They would have wanted to know, and they wouldn’t have wanted to stay away. They’re here for you. For Anna and the kids. We all are.”
“I know,” he replies quietly. “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve such good friends.” To my surprise, Ben blinks several times. Shit. Please don’t cry. My fingers twitch, eager to reach for him, wanting to comfort him, but I’m afraid if I touch him, I’ll start crying.
“So. You and Logan, huh?” He chuckles as he swipes at both eyes with one hand, drawing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. When he looks up at me, I pretend I don’t notice the liquid in his eyes. “I couldn’t have picked a better man for you.”
“Ben.” I softly laugh. “I don’t know if it’s like that.” Heat creeps up my chest, and I lower my eyes from my brother’s stare.
“You’ve always had a crush on him, and he’s crazy about you.”
“How do you know?” I ask, lifting up to peer at him.
“I just do. And I know Logan. Once he’s in, he’s in.”
“Right now, he’s out with Mason and this idea, though.” I’d never heard of this secret business plan amongst them.
“He’s out because I’m out. I can’t ask Anna to invest in this when we don’t know what the future holds, and Logan wants things to be solid before he commits to anything. He’s always been like that because of the losses in his life. He’s slow on the uptake, but once he makes a decision, he’s all in.”
I consider what I know of Logan—losing his father as a child, his mother as a teen, and his wife to divorce in his thirties.
“If he’s in with you, all I ask is the same of you,” Ben states. “I love you, kid, but don’t hurt him.”
“Me?” I’m shocked at my brother’s warning as I’m the one typically hurt by the men in my life.
“You’re strong, Autumn, and you always recover.” I stare at my brother, wondering where his idea of my confidence and strength comes from. He’s the one who said men were phases. Then again, based on the number of relationships I’ve had and the longevity of each, Ben knows I’m loyal to a fault.
“He’s strong, too,” I defend, especially when I consider Logan’s willingness to give me a baby and not be involved. At least at first, that was the plan.
“He’ll make a good father,” Ben states as if reading my thoughts.
“He already is,” I remind him. “But so are you.”
Ben nods, watching Bryce tease Mila as he holds the football over her head before tossing it to Logan. Ben’s going to miss so much, and my heart breaks at the thought. Unable to resist, I reach out for his wrist this time, and he glances down at where I touch him.
“You know I love you, right?” he says, saying it more openly since his diagnosis.
“I know,” I tease as my heart rips open a little more. “I love you, too, big brother.”
After that, we both remain silent, watching his kids play on the sand with the man I’m in love with, who happens to be one of his best friends.
30
[Autumn]
“God, yes.” Logan huffs into my neck as he hikes me higher against him. “Fuck yes.”
I’m pinned to the back of my bedroom door at the Cottage as Logan drives into me like a man on a mission.
“Oh. My. God.” I stammer as he thrusts into me, feeling like he ca
n’t get deep enough. My legs wrap around his hips, and my back rubs against the door for support. Our position reminds me of our shower sex when we declared no more wall sex in order to keep what needs keeping inside me. Tonight, we just couldn’t wait for the bed.
“You’re so wet,” he mumbles into my neck. “I’m sliding all over.”
He’s working so hard he’s slightly clammy under my palms. Sweat beads on his forehead, and he licks my throat.
“Logan,” I moan, clutching at his shoulder blades, scrambling to hold onto him as we glide together. He’s so slippery. “It’s going to be big.”
He chuckles at the warning, but something’s off about the sound.
“Logan,” I cry out and lower my mouth to suck at his neck, diminishing my scream into his sticky, moist skin. Instantly, Logan follows, spewing into me in a rush, but just as quickly, he pulls out and almost drops me to the floor. My feet catch me, but my knees buckle. Logan steps back, swiping at his face, haphazardly brushing his hands through his hair back and forth.
“Oh God.” I chuckle, exhilarated while weak. I’m a mess, and I lower for my underwear on the floor. I’m still wearing my beach dress, but Logan had tugged off his shirt the second we entered the room. His shorts rested just off his hips. He wasn’t wearing boxers.
“Give me a second,” I breathlessly say, stepping toward the powder room in my bedroom. Glancing over at Logan, I find his eyes are wild, and his coloring has drained from his tan skin to a pale, sickly color. Sweat not only beads on his forehead but also above his lips. He hasn’t made a move to right his shorts.
“Logan?” I question, reaching toward him, but he steps back. He looks at me, but it’s as if he’s looking through me. His eyes wander, a bit rabid, like a trapped animal, and his head twitches. His fingers fist at his side.
“Logan,” I whisper, taking a step toward him, as he shakes his head faster like he’s trying to settle something inside. When I reach out for him again, he swats at my hand, slapping it hard.
“Don’t touch me.” The aggression surprises me, and I stare at him as he stumbles backward. His shorts still dangle at his hip. He knocks into the rocking chair behind him and tumbles to the seat. His hands start to slap at his head.