This was exactly what he’d needed, and it shouldn’t have surprised him that Logan had known that. He was extremely intuitive when it came to things like this.
They passed several people sitting under trees reading, and when they walked around the lake in the direction of Strawberry Fields, he said quietly, “I’ve been thinking a lot about my family this past week.”
He didn’t say anything else as they continued, and Logan seemed content to wait for him to decide what came next.
“I know I haven’t said much,” he started, trying to work out how to say what he wanted to.
“It’s okay to want to see them, Tate,” Logan told him gently, saving him from actually voicing the words.
When his feet faltered under him, Logan tilted his face in his direction.
“Did you think I’d think less of you for wanting to?”
“No…I… Well, I didn’t know if I wanted to see them.”
“I can understand that,” Logan said. Simple enough.
Tate walked over to lean on the side of the bridge they were crossing over. When Logan came up beside him, he rested his arms on the top and angled his body toward him.
“Tate, they’re your family.”
“But they were so…”
“Cruel? Judgmental? Bigoted?” Logan supplied, nodding as he looked out across the water. “Yes, they were all those things. And maybe they still will be, especially your mother,” he pointed out. “But your dad? He’s trying.”
Tate ran a hand back through his hair and sighed. “Yeah, I know, and that’s what I’ve been thinking about. Do you think… Nah. Don’t worry.” He stood straighter.
So Logan did also. “No, don’t do that. What were you going to say?”
Tate shoved his hands in his pockets and chewed the side of his lip as he carefully thought over his next words. Then he looked Logan in the eye and asked, “Do you think maybe we could stop by their house on the way home tomorrow?”
* * *
Logan wasn’t sure how he felt about going back to the scene of that long-ago Sunday dinner—the one that had resulted in Tate’s leaving him. But as he stared into the nervous, brown eyes that were waiting for his response, he knew he had to get over his own fears in this situation and trust that Tate was at a different place when it came to the two of them.
This wasn’t about him; it was about Tate. And if he wants to reach out and try again with his parents, who am I to stop him?
“Sure, I don’t see why not.”
“Logan?” Tate asked.
Logan leaned forward against the side of the bridge, and Tate crowded in behind him and put his hands on his waist. He pressed their bodies against one another and then put his lips by Logan’s ear.
“It might be different this time.”
Logan turned his head so they were practically nose to nose and said, “It might not be also. Then what?”
“If it’s not, then we’ll get in your car and go home—together.”
There it was, his biggest fear laid out in front of him. The thought of Tate leaving him again or telling him to go away… Fuck, he wasn’t sure which was worse. But by the pained expression that crossed Tate’s face, he knew that his feelings must’ve been pretty obvious.
“I’m not going anywhere. You know that, right?”
Logan turned so he could place his hand over Tate’s coat. “I feel like I should—”
“But you’re worried anyway,” Tate ended for him. “Don’t you trust me?”
Logan frowned at Tate’s annoyed tone, and then his own agitation rose. “Yes, I trust you, but damn it, Tate. I just got you back after a month in a hospital bed and the rehabilitation after. And the last time we went to Sunday lunch, you…you—”
“Acted like a dick afterwards?” Tate supplied.
“Yes,” Logan finished on a rush of air. “You broke my fucking heart that day, and honestly, I don’t think, after everything we’ve been through, that I can do that again. Not even if you need a moment to freak out.”
Logan stopped talking, realizing how loud his voice had risen, and then he lowered his eyes away from Tate’s. Jesus, I hate feeling vulnerable.
“Logan?”
When he didn’t raise his head, he heard Tate say his name again.
“Logan, would you look at me please?”
With his lips pulled into a thin line, he glared at Tate, irrationally angry at the way the conversation had turned. When Tate’s lips tugged into a full-on heart-stopping grin, it only served to make him surlier.
“Is something amusing, Morrison?”
“Oh, the last name. You are pissed.”