Chapter 10

Logan wasn’t sure if it was the sound of the drapes being yanked open or the sunlight that woke him. Either way, he wasn’t happy about the change in status. He threw an arm across his eyes.

“Get up.”

It didn’t require any sight to identify Griff as the interloper in his bedroom. Only years of military training provided an order that crisp and final. But it took zero training to ignore it. “No.”

Logan liked being of assistance to people. Liked saving them, helping them rebuild their lives after a tragedy. He liked making a difference. None of that changed the fact that he didn’t like the conditions in which he usually worked. Nobody enjoyed sleeping on a military-grade cot. Or the ground. So on the rare occasions he was back in the rectory, he loved wallowing in his California King. With, yeah, some ridiculous gajillion-thread-count sheets and a gray fleece throw. The headboard might be reclaimed boards, but the actual bed was like lying in a fucking cloud. Which was why he didn’t intend to leave it anytime soon.

He flipped onto his stomach. That ought to give Griff a clear, nonverbal get the hell out.

Instead, Griff bumped the mattress. “Dude, get up. It’s time for dinner.”

Food sounded good. Wading hip deep back into the shit storm he’d created among the ACSs did not. Logan thrashed around the covers until he was flat on his back again, scowling at Griff. “I doubt Knox—or any of the rest of you, for that matter—wants me to hang out in the kitchen. Just pretend I’m not up here. It should be easy. You’ve had plenty of practice.”

Griff crossed his arms. He wore a smirk as he leaned against the wall papered with a black-and-white photo of birch trees. “Really? You’re just going to hide up here? Like a total pussy?”

Ouch. Not untrue, but ouch. “I’m sleeping. I’m exactly half a world’s worth of time zones different from you right now. Let me sleep.”

“You did. All night, and all day. It’s Monday night. So get up before your ass hermetically seals to the mattress.”

“No.”

The smart thing to do would be to get up. Get some food, maybe run around the neighborhood for an hour to get the blood flowing. It was the best way to shake off jet lag. But Logan just didn’t want to get in another damn fight. He felt raw and empty from the last two. And Brooke wasn’t here to fill him back up with her soothing TLC. Not that she deserved to deal with him again when he was in such bad condition. No matter how tempting.

Griff shook his head. “God, you’re stubborn. You can’t always have your own way.”

That jolted him up onto one elbow. “Are you serious with that shit? You think any of this happened my way? You think I wanted to yell at my dad and deal with a stranger who loves me sight unseen and take a swing at my best friend?”

“When you put it like that, nah.”

“Then get out and let me sleep.”

“Nope.” Griff kicked the mattress again. And he was still in his uniform, so those shiny, hard-soled shoes shook the whole damn bed. “We agreed to give you a mulligan. To be more precise—or else Ry will skin me—we’re all taking one.”

Logan scooted to sit up against the headboard. Because that idea had merit. “Like in golf? A do-over?”

“Exactly. The truth is, we all screwed up in the SER studio.”

That was the way Logan remembered it, too. Who knew his friends would come around so fast? “I could hear more of that,” he said cautiously.

“I won’t speak for the others.” Griffin dropped into the gray club chair and let his arms dangle off his knees. “But it’s been strange, getting used to Knox being in love.”

“Hang on—I heard you fell first?”

A grin so bright it could probably be used to power the lights at FedExField flashed across Griff’s face. “I sure did. Head over freaking heels. I can’t wait for you to meet Chloe.”

Another new thing, another change for Logan to absorb. Usually when he came back to D.C. it was all relaxation and fun with the guys. This time he had a whole agenda, and so far all of it sounded like work. “G-man, if she fell for you…well, it’s obvious that I wasn’t here to catch her eye first.”

“Asshole.” But Griff half rose to fist-bump Logan, laughing.

Okay. That was all it took for them to be back on solid ground. But there were three other guys in this tight brotherhood. And being gone so long, he’d obviously missed a metric shit ton of developments. “If you’re such a fan of true love now, what was your issue with Knox?”

“Because he’s not just some lonely guy trying to get lucky. Knox considered it his duty to sleep with every willing woman. Every damn last one. There was one month when he had more sex than my entire squad did in the same time. He’s picked up women in a three-floor elevator ride. Hell, he’s picked them up at funerals.”

Logan couldn’t resist reminding him of the more telling detail. “Knox had sex there, too, remember?” He claimed that he’d been unable to resist the coffin showcase room at the funeral home. All that satin-covered padding that deserved to be bounced on before going in the ground. And Knox had, indeed, more than cheered up two grieving cousins before the viewing ended.

“That’s my point. At first I didn’t believe it. I figured that Knox’s dating one woman for more than a week was just a thing he was trying once, like that time we all walked over hot coals in Fiji.”

“Bucket-list stuff.” It hadn’t sent any of them to the ER. Hadn’t been fun, either. But none of them regretted sharing the experience and having a story that, more often than not, got them hookups at a bar.

“Yeah. Easy to assume that he did it to say he tried it once but knew the whole time that it sucked. Then we thought he was nuts for sticking with a woman who’s so fixated on getting married.”

Considering Logan knew almost nothing about his new sister, that was a really weird detail to get front-loaded. “She is?”

Griff waved it off. “That’s a whole other story. Don’t worry—Madison’s got lots of great qualities, too. I wouldn’t be sad if a little of her marriage-mindedness rubbed off on Chloe.”

For just a second, Logan groped with one hand for a chair before he remembered he was already sitting down in bed. Because the massive change in hits kept coming faster than the top ten lists the week before New Year’s. “You want to marry her?”

“I gave her a ring already. As a placeholder.” Griff scrubbed a palm across his face. “She’s got to give it to me when she’s ready.”

“You don’t know when?”

Another grimace. This one with lips tighter than the seal on a beer bottle. “I know it’s not happening soon enough.”

“Dude. Hard to not be in control.” Especially for his friend who spent all day giving orders.

Griffin laughed. “I haven’t been in control since the moment I fell for her. And that’s okay.”

“You’re telling me Knox is just as crazy for my sister?”

“Yeah. But even though they’re engaged, it’s still hard to wrap my head around, you know? So when he got so mad in the studio, I had no idea he’d take a swing at you. I should’ve stopped it. Should’ve stepped in sooner.”

That was Griff’s signature move. Rescuing people from tough situations. Never thought he’d want to use it on one of the ACSs, though. “Thanks. But I didn’t need to be rescued by you.”

Griff snorted. “No kidding. Wait until you see Knox’s fat lip.”

It wasn’t that Logan wanted his best friend to be in as much pain as he was right now. It was just…well, that wouldn’t suck. “For that sight, I’ll get out of bed and come down to dinner.”

“Not down. Out.” Griffin pointed out the third-floor window. “We’re going to Pinstripes, to welcome you home in style. We’ll order a bunch of their pizzas, some ribs with that balsamic barbecue sauce you like so much, the prime rib dip, fried mozzarella balls…we’ll basically stuff ourselves until they run out of food or beer.”

“Good plan.” Logan threw back the sheets and headed for the dresser. Because all the clothes in his duffel bag needed to be not just washed but disinfected a couple of times.

Griff rose. “By the time I get into my civvies, you’d better be dressed. The others are going to meet us there.”

Now this visit made sense. Griff had been the advance guard in this mission. “Did you pull the short straw to get me out of bed?”

“It was a coin toss. And obviously I lost.” Griff tapped the door with his Coast Guard Academy signet ring. “But I’m not sad about it. I’m really glad you’re home, Logan. Things never feel right when the five of us aren’t together.”

“I’ll text you a reminder of that on your wedding night, G-man.” Then they did the awkward shoulder-clasp guy thing, and Jesus Christ but it was good to be home.

Logan just hoped the other ACSs felt the same way.

Half an hour later, Logan appreciated the convenience of Pinstripes marrying a restaurant and a bowling alley. Because he seriously wanted to hit himself in the head with a twelve-pound ball.

As soon as they’d arrived, Griff led him to the bar. Where Knox stood. And where Josh and Riley made a fucking production number out of pointing at the last set of leather couches and hightailing it over to them with Griff. It being a Monday night, there weren’t even other people at the bar who could hopefully spill a drink on Logan and give him an excuse to hightail it out of there.

Knox wore the custom bowling shirt he’d had made for all of them. Because even though they did their damnedest to keep a low profile, to stay out of the press, Knox could never ignore anything with the word custom in front of it. The brown shirt with black lettering was as classy as you could get in a place that squirted the shoes with anti-fungal spray. And even though Logan wore the same shirt, he didn’t feel anywhere close to being on the same team as Knox.

They were mirror images. Both tall, with dark hair. Same stupid shirt. Both holding a bottle of the excellent Dogfish Head Midas Touch—and neither of them had touched a single drop of it. Just sort of stared up and out across the lanes in opposite directions. In the old days, they’d be scanning for likely hookups. Now Knox was engaged. And Logan found himself unable to go more than ten minutes without thinking of Brooke.

He’d texted her on the way over. To apologize again for pulling a second vanishing act. She responded with a joke about wondering if he was a vampire after he left right before dawn, but at least now she’d seen him in the light. And then asked if he had plans for the next full moon…

Logan was still figuring out how to respond. Because he didn’t make plans. He had to be ready to roll at a moment’s notice. Not to mention his biggest plan had to be meeting Madison. And generally ghosting on his dad until after the Board meeting passed.

After the second time the clangs and screams at the only occupied lane indicated somebody landed a strike, Knox finally spoke. “Does your eye hurt?”

“Probably the same as your lip.”

“I’ll drink to that.” They clinked bottles. Threw back a long glug and then still didn’t look at each other.

For fuck’s sake.

Logan slammed the bottle on the bar hard enough to make beer foam out the top. “I’ve been gone for months. All that time, filtering my water or taking it from ration kits, I looked forward to the next time I’d be drinking with you dipshits. This?” He waved a hand back and forth between them. In the giant, silent chasm between them. “This isn’t what I had in mind.”

“What did you have in mind—taking another swing at me?” Knox’s tone was about as warm as the Ilulissat Icefjord in Greenland.

Well, Logan damn well wouldn’t let him stake out the high ground on top of a self-righteous pedestal when Knox was the one who’dd landed the first blow. “That wasn’t a plan. It was strictly defensive.”

Knox gingerly touched his swollen mouth. “Feels the same no matter how you spin it.”

And just like that, the pilot light on Logan’s anger sputtered out. Because…“You’re right,” he said.

“I am?”

“We both had an opinion. We both acted on it. There’s no reason to stay pissy. We’re even.”

Knox stared at him for a long time. Long enough that Logan wondered if maybe he should prepare to duck. Because he refused to hit his best friend again, self-defense or not. Finally, Knox slammed his own beer down on the bar. Lunged at Logan…and squeezed him in a bear hug. “You smooth-tempered bastard. God, I’ve missed you.”

“Back at ya.” Over his shoulder, Logan saw Josh shove a fist in the air. Riley whooped as he, Josh, and Griff jogged over to dog-pile on the same way they had that icy March day in the Alps. With all of them in matching shirts, the other customers probably thought they were a team celebrating. Which was true. Because anytime all five of them got to hang together, it felt like a celebration.

“So the mulligan worked?” Josh wore a smug grin. “Griff, you told Logan it was my idea, right?”

That earned him a smoothly raised eyebrow. “Didn’t think it mattered.”

“Says the man who didn’t think of it,” Josh muttered.

“Yes, the mulligan worked. Now we drink to it.” Riley leaned over the bar to order a round of Buttery Nipple shots.

“What the hell, Ry? Those are the girliest shots ever served.”

“We earned ’em. We all had our panties in a twist today. This is our punishment. And we’ll drink to never doing it again.”

Knox frowned down at the line of glasses being doctored by the bartender. “I’ll drink to never doing this shot again. I’ll bet it tastes worse than off-brand Gatorade.”

“Negative reinforcement. Works every time.”

“Wait. We’re not done yet.” Logan extended his hand to Knox. “I’m sorry I sort of insulted your fiancée. But I was just trying to keep her from being used and discarded by the biggest man-whore in the District.”

Knox made a big deal out of looking left and right before patting his chest with a Who, me? expression. “I get it. I understand why you came at me so hard, too. You had to make the noble gesture to defend your blood kin.”

Every so often Knox reverted to his geeky persona. That earlier version of Knox wrote a how-to manual for an interactive video game…that earned him money hand over fist. Enough to pay for his expenses in college and then some. They’d all been proud of him. Still, no reason to encourage him to talk like an avatar. Or was it an emoji? Either way, it drove Logan up a freaking wall.

It drove Ry nuts, too. Which accounted for him lightly punching Knox in the arm. “This isn’t a scene from your video game, Knox.”

“No kidding. None of the characters in that game would be dumb enough to accidentally bang his best friend’s baby sister.” He clasped Logan’s hand and they shook again. “I’m sorry for that.”

Who needed therapy when you could squeeze out a pair of apologies and seal them with a shot? Logan handed out the filled glasses while the bartender worked on popping the caps off of a second round of beers. “Okay. Now we drink.”

Ry lifted his glass. “We drink this sugary shit to remind us not to act like idiots again.”

They all gulped, grimaced, and wiped the backs of their hands over their mouths. Negative reinforcement was an understatement.

Logan shoved a high-backed stool out of the way so he could slide a fresh bottle of beer to each of his friends. More people were trickling in. If they stayed at the bar they’d never reclaim their spot. With the amount of seriously good food he intended to finally put back tonight, they damned sure needed a table. “Let’s go.” He led them back to the couches.

Griffin held up a hand before anyone sank into the leather. “We’ve got to do a round of real toasts.”

This, this was the homecoming Logan always anticipated. The five of them fell into a loose circle around the wooden coffee table. Just like they’d always done since their first days together on the soccer pitch.

“First, as always, we toast to our driver that fateful day, Santos, and his family left behind. Salut.” After a quiet sip, Griff raised his bottle again. “Second, as always, we toast to the Sesto Reggimento Alpini who patched us up and got us back to civilization. Prost.” Another surge forward from everyone to clink, and then back to drink. “Our third toast has to be to Logan. He was away too long this time. He’s a douche bag for not staying in better touch, but we’re damn glad he’s back, safe and sound.”

Four of them intoned, “To the douche bag.” Logan tried hard not to do a spit take. Or let beer come out his nose. God, he loved these idiots. It took a shit ton of self-control not to think about how much he missed them when he was gone. But if he admitted it to himself, he’d be miserable. Or more miserable, considering that sleeping on rocks and eating goat wasn’t exactly the lap of freaking luxury.

Josh drummed his hands on the table once he sat. “While you and Knox were acting like dipwads at the bar, I put in an order to kick things off. Food should roll out any minute. You’ve got beer in hand. The only thing this party is missing is a hot girl to go home with—but we’ll take care of that before the night’s over.”

Stretching out to cross his legs at the ankle, Logan said, “Nah. I’m good.”

“What?” Four heads swiveled in unison toward him.

Too late, he realized his mistake. Knox engaged. Griff wanting to be. He needed to head things off before they decided love could be contagious. “I had a fling. During the hurricane.”

“Way to go!” Knox high-fived him. Guess there was still a little dog in him after all.

“Hurricane’s over,” Riley stated flatly. “You need a welcome-home present. I vote a blonde. Mostly because I call dibs on the tall brunette over there lacing up her shoes.”

Automatically, Logan looked. And his first thought was that she wasn’t as pretty as Brooke. Which was stupid. It wasn’t as if he had any reason to see Brooke again. No matter how hard he might be trying to manufacture one. The ceiling-high stack of boxes in her place was proof that her move was right around the corner.

After a slow sip of his beer, Logan shook his head. “I’m still fighting off my jet lag. Pretty sure that after dinner I’ll go straight home and sleep for another twelve hours. Then I have to figure out what to do about my sister.”

As a skinny waiter—Logan would put five bucks on his being an undergrad at Georgetown, just a few blocks away—set down two trays of pizza, Knox calmly announced, “Just to get everything out in the open, I’ll kick your ass again if you don’t treat Madison well.”

“Jesus H, Knox.” Logan leaned forward, hands braced on his thighs. “I want to. I want to meet her. I know I was a douche bag the first time I talked to her, but that was just surprise. She’s my sister. Half, whole, doesn’t matter. She’s my sister and I want to get to know her. I want to be the best brother to her in the world.”

“Good to hear.” Knox pulled the first slice of their famous Italian Beef pizza and passed it to Logan.

He was starving. And starving for decent food, too. But Logan just looked at the plate and didn’t touch it. Because now that the question had been raised, it took all his focus. “So what do I do?”

“Huh?”

God, it petrified him. Because Logan couldn’t, could not fuck up with her a second time. Madison would have every right not to give him a third chance. “I’ve never had a sister before. What do I do with her?”

Knox bugged his eyes out. “I don’t have one, either. Don’t look at me.”

They all just about cracked their necks swiveling—this time—to stare at Josh. Who was busy taking a photo of the pizza. The guy never stopped thinking about food. Dissecting it in his mind and putting it back together between two slices of bread for his food truck. The only thing that ever fully got his concentration off food was trying to score. In soccer and with women.

He set his phone on the table. “If you think just because I have a sister I understand them, think again. Only women understand other women.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” mused Knox.

Logan sure as hell wasn’t dressing up as a woman to try to connect with his sister. Or maybe that was the last of his jet lag slowing his brain cells. “You lost me,” he admitted.

“What if we went on a double date? Me coming along keeps you comfortable. Madison loves to meet new people, so she wouldn’t mind. You’ve got to have someone you could bring to even things up.”

No wonder Knox made a gajillion dollars every time he rubbed two brain cells together. The man was a certified genius. His idea was brilliant. Now Logan could relax and enjoy the rest of the night. “You know what? I’ve got the perfect woman in mind…”