“DO YOU KNOW how many people are going today?” Logan’s question found Tate over the steady beat of the song playing on the radio as he drove down the interstate.

The two of them had spent the rest of the day unpacking Logan’s office and the kitchen, and then it had been time to get ready. They’d fallen into a relatively comfortable groove where they spoke about house stuff and work stuff and very neatly avoided anything about, well, marriage stuff.

“Uhh, she didn’t say. But I doubt too many. Their house isn’t that big, and even though the sun’s out, it’s kind of cold today. She’ll likely have us all inside.” Tate glanced over to Logan in his casual pair of navy-blue pants and a light blue sweater, and chuckled when his eyes fell to the white collar of the shirt he wore under it—it was perfectly pressed from the pointed tips of that collar to the tails.

“What are you laughing at?” Logan asked as he looked down at himself, no doubt checking to make sure nothing was out of order.

“Nothing. I was just remembering your frantic search for the iron earlier.”

“We really need to unpack all the clothes, shoes, and hangers next. I hate not being able to find what I’m looking for. And my frantic search, as you call it, will save me grief tomorrow when getting ready for work. It’s one of the most important appliances we own I’ll have you know.”

“The iron?”

“Yes. How else do you get the wrinkles out?”

Tate shrugged. “I throw my stuff in the dryer.” Logan looked him over, and when a deep crease formed between his eyebrows, Tate laughed again. “Something you obviously think worked very well from that response.”

“Well, no,” Logan said. “It totally works for you. You look—”

“Careful…” Tate warned, tongue in cheek, enjoying the teasing nature that had slipped back between them for the first time in hours.

“You look sexy and, uhh, rumpled.”

“Rumpled?”

Logan rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. You’re the kind of person who can roll out of bed, pull a shirt on with some jeans, and you look great. Me, I need—”

“Not a goddamn thing, and you look hot as hell.”

Logan’s mouth was open midway with whatever retort he’d been about to give, when he stopped and cocked his head. “Are you flirting with me?”

Tate peered at him over his sunglasses. “Yes. Got a problem with that?”

The two of them had been so careful around each other for most of the day that he wondered if Logan would take issue with him saying something that usually would be so normal between them.

But Logan shook his head. “No.”

Tate returned his eyes to the road, happy for the shift to familiar territory for five minutes. “Good. Because your frantic search paid off. You look very handsome this afternoon.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“I do,” Tate said—and I want to kiss you so bad, I ache from it.

As they exited the interstate and Tate drew the car to a stop at a red light, he looked over and wished he didn’t feel so uneasy with the man next to him. He hated this feeling, and even though Logan said things would be okay between them, the discomfort still lingered.

“I’m looking forward to meeting your nephews.” Tate sighed, and when Logan looked his way, he asked, “I shouldn’t be looking forward to meeting them?”

Stop being so polite, Tate wanted to tell him. But again, he had no place telling Logan how to act right now, so he kept his mouth shut. “No, you should. I am too. It’s just going to be a little strange to see them after all this time, but good, you know?” Logan nodded, and Tate offered him a hesitant smile. “I think they’re going to really like you. Especially Cooper.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“Coop’s always been the bookish type. Interested in learning everything he could, and reading everything he could. Well, he did when he was seven, at least. I can’t imagine much has changed.”

“Imagine that. A young mind eager for knowledge through books instead of the Internet.”

“Yes…imagine.”

“Well, I think Cooper and I will get along just fine.”

Tate couldn’t help himself then, and hoped that Logan wouldn’t pull away from him as he reached across the car and placed a hand on his thigh. “Who wouldn’t get along with you?”

Their gazes held in the silence until the light changed and Logan gestured to it with a tilt of his head. “Time to go.”

Tate nodded but was reluctant to leave the moment. “Yes. It’s time to go.” And before the cars behind him started to blast their horn, he put his foot to the gas and took off down the road.

* * *

SNAP OUT OF it, Mitchell, Logan thought for what had to be the millionth time. But as Logan was finding out, it was much easier to tell yourself to be fine and okay than to actually feel it.

All day they’d been politely circling one another. There’d been conversation about paint colors, discussion on the weather over the past month, and something or fucking other involving them deciding where to hang the clock in the kitchen.

It was all so calm. So damn civilized. And it made Logan want to rip his hair out. But, for some reason, he couldn’t snap out of it long enough to fall back into their normal groove. Time. I just need time.

Around twenty minutes later, Tate was pulling up alongside the curb of a quaint little house that had a perfectly manicured lawn. Actually, all the houses were quaint and had perfectly manicured lawns.

“This is it.” Tate was unbuckling his seatbelt as Logan continued to stare out at the American dream in front of him, and if he thought Cole had up and moved to suburbia, then this house confirmed that his brother and Rachel still had some of their rebellious tendencies lurking under the family unit facade. At least their home was unique to them. This house was scarily similar to the one on either side of it, minus the blue door.

“Looks like we’re the first here,” Logan said as he scanned the empty drive.

“Yeah, I’d say so. Maybe if we’re lucky we can get in and out before anyone else arrives.”

“Maybe.” Logan pushed open his door just as Tate did, and as they climbed out, a blast of cold air hit them. “Damn. It’s going to be a brutal winter this year if it’s already this cold in October.”

“I know,” Tate said as he flipped up the collar on his leather jacket. “You really should’ve brought a coat.”

“I figured we’d be inside and my sweater would be enough.” Logan crossed his arms and rubbed his hands up and down the outside of the wool. “But you might be right.”

Tate came around and slowly held a hand out, as though he wasn’t sure if the gesture would be well received. But Logan slipped his palm against Tate’s and was grateful when he pulled him to his side.

“Better?” Tate asked.

In so many ways, Logan thought, but merely nodded.

“Good. Now let’s get you inside so you don’t catch a cold.”

Logan didn’t say anything as Tate led them toward the blue door that beckoned them, and once they were on the porch, Tate just stared at it.

“Hey,” Logan said. “You’ve got this.”

Tate glanced at him, and when a frown creased his forehead, Logan wondered if it was his phrasing or the thought of what was about to happen that was troubling Tate. But no matter what it was, and even with all that was going on with them, Logan wasn’t about to let Tate go in there believing he was doing this on his own.

He squeezed Tate’s fingers and gave him the most supportive smile he could muster. “We’ve got this, okay? I’m right here if you need me. For anything.”

And with that, Tate turned and knocked on the blue door.

* * *

TATE TRIED TO push aside the stab of hurt he’d gotten from Logan’s initial slip, knowing he hadn’t likely meant it the way he was taking it. But it still cut to hear him phrase his support in the way he had.

You’ve got this. Not we, you. Shit, he’d really messed things up between them, he thought as he concentrated on Logan’s hand in his, and he wished right then he could say fuck it to this get-together, drag Logan back to his car, and then take him somewhere so they could work this out—now.

He didn’t even care how long it would take. One night? Three? A week? He just wanted to get Logan somewhere private so he could beg him to say what it was he needed so they would be okay. The problem was, Tate didn’t even think Logan knew the answer to that…yet.

Tate knocked on the door, totally preoccupied with everything but the fact he was about to come face to face with his nephews after four years, and waited for it to open.

The sound of footsteps was what he heard first, followed by someone laughing, and then the door opened to reveal a gangly boy with a mop of brown curls. He had glasses pushed up his nose, and when he saw who stood in front of him, a huge grin split across his mouth.

“Uncle Tate,” Cooper said, and then burst forward with all the enthusiasm of an eleven-year-old to wrap his arms around Tate. He returned the gesture automatically and told himself to keep it together.

When Cooper stepped back and looked up at him, he was practically bouncing on his toes with excitement. “Mom said you were coming, but I didn’t believe her. Ahh, this is the best day ever.”

Tate laughed, Cooper’s joy one hundred percent contagious, and reached out to ruffle his hair. “It is pretty cool, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. So cool.”

Cooper’s eyes shifted to Logan, and Tate turned to see him looking down at the boy with a grin on his lips, and he wondered what Logan was thinking just then.

“Hi, I’m Cooper.” Cooper then shocked the hell out of Tate by holding his hand out in Logan’s direction.

Logan stepped forward and took Cooper’s hand, giving it a firm shake. “Hello to you. I’m—”

“Logan, right?”

When Logan looked at Tate, he shrugged. He hadn’t spoken to Cooper until right now, so this had to be Jill’s doing.

“That’s right,” Logan said, and returned his attention back to the boy. “I’m Logan.”

“Uncle Tate’s boyfriend.”

Tate was glad no one was addressing him right then, because Cooper, in no more than three words, had put all the cards on the table and rendered him mute. Logan, on the other hand, relaxed before his very eyes. And Tate was surprised to hear laughter bubble up out of him.

“That’s right. That’s exactly who I am.”

“That’s cool. I have a friend with two dads,” Cooper went on, and Tate, having not even made it two steps in the front door, was completely floored by the acceptance coming from one as young as Cooper, when his own mother couldn’t even wrap her brain around it.

“That is very cool,” Logan agreed.

Cooper beamed at the both of them. “Mom’s in the kitchen and Dad’s out back with Jon getting the grill fired up. Man, he’s gonna freak when he sees you’re really here. Come on.”

Cooper headed off down the hall, clearly expecting them to follow, and as Tate started off in the same direction, he heard Logan say from behind him, “Your father’s genes run strong. That kid looks just like you and your dad.”

Tate looked over his shoulder at Logan, who was staring down the hall after Cooper. “It’s the hair.”

“And the eyes. You and Jill got both those things from him. It’s crazy to see. A little shocking, too. But he’s great.”

Tate nodded, still a little surprised from the brief conversation at the front door. But then he turned around and headed off down the hall in search of the rest of the family.

SEVERAL HOURS LATER, Tate had to admit that he couldn’t remember what he’d been so worried about. Jill had been right. Not only was his family cool with him and Logan, the friends she’d invited over didn’t so much as flinch at the two of them together.

Okay, so that wasn’t entirely true. Jeff Peterson, whom Tate had music lessons with in high school, had looked all kinds of confused when Tate introduced Logan as his boyfriend. So naturally, Logan, being Logan, decided to clear things up in the clearest way he was able. “Boyfriend as in we live together and sleep together.”

But Tate should’ve known that Jeff, whose mouth had always been a source of either embarrassment or troublemaking shit, would give it right back to Logan once his brain computed the shock.

Leaning in to Logan, Jeff said, “If that’s all he’s doing while he’s in your bed, then Morrison here ain’t really your boyfriend, now is he?”

The rest of the night had gone along without so much as a hitch.

It was nearing seven thirty, and Cooper and Jon had disappeared into their bedroom to play video games. Tate found himself cornered on one side of Jill’s living room with Jeff and Matt, who were reminiscing about the good old days, while Logan was across the room with Jill, Sam, and a few other couples, who were asking him all about his job and that recent win with Berivax.

Unfortunately, it had been like that for most of the night. Tate didn’t think it was intentional, but he found himself pulled in one direction while Logan was pulled in the other. And where they’d usually make sure they were standing as close as possible any other night, tonight they’d let themselves head off to opposite sides of the room.

As Matt continued to talk about the teachers they used to loathe and the pranks they used to pull, Tate’s eyes found the charismatic man across the room. As if Logan felt Tate’s gaze, he glanced over in Tate’s direction, and their eyes locked and held. The connection there was instantaneous, and for the first time in what felt like forever, it was familiar, electric, and hot as hell—then it vanished, and Logan inclined his head in acknowledgment before going back to the conversation he was having.

Tate had totally zoned out on what was being said beside him until Jeff nudged him and Tate realized he was asking him a question.

“So Logan, huh? A guy,” Jeff said as he looked across the room to Logan. “Who knew you’d turn out to be the adventurous one in the bunch.”

Tate dragged his eyes off Logan and turned back to Jeff. “Not me. But if anyone was going to make me try it his way, it was going to be Logan.”

“Well, he is a lawyer—you’d hope he could make a convincing argument,” Matt joked, and Tate had to laugh, because no one was more convincing than Logan when he put his mind to something. “Unlike us schmucks whose ammo was to take a girl to the drive-in, hardly talk at all, and hope like hell we could convince her to let us make out for five minutes. Actually, come to think of it, you held the record for the most action out there, didn’t you, Tate?”

“Now this sounds like a conversation I should be a part of.”

Logan’s voice had Tate looking over his shoulder to see him standing there with an arched eyebrow.

“You held the record for the most action where? And just so I’m not misunderstanding, we aren’t talking action as in fighting, are we?”

“Hell no.” Jeff laughed. “Morrison was a lover, not a fighter.”

“Is that right?” Logan said in a tone that made Tate very aware that something in the last few minutes had shifted between them. Ever since that look they shared.

“Yeah,” Jeff said. “Always was one of the nicest guys around. Everyone loved him.”

Tate shook his head. Jesus, they make me sound like a fucking choirboy. But when he saw Matt open his mouth, clearly about to fill Logan in on what they’d been talking about, Tate had an idea, one that he hoped would be a bit of fun for the two of them after everything that had happened.

“I think that’s enough of a walk down memory lane tonight, okay, Matt?” Tate said, and luckily for Matt, he got the message.

Logan, of course, didn’t miss the fact he was changing topics. “Well, that’s not fair.”

“Too bad,” Tate said, and took Logan’s elbow in hand, giving a quick wave to his friends. “Let’s go and find our hosts. I think I’m ready to leave.”

“Really? It’s not even eight,” Logan said, and then frowned. “Are you okay? Did I say something to upset you? I was only joking back there.”

Tate stopped them where they were, and turned on Logan then. The last thing he wanted was for Logan to think he was upset. So he bent in close enough that he’d be heard even as he whispered, “No. You did the exact opposite.”

Logan’s eyes darkened as the words sank in, and that look, that expression in his eyes, was one Tate had been missing.

“Okay. Then let’s find Jill.”

“Yes. Let’s,” Tate agreed, and then straightened. “Because there’s somewhere I want to take you.”