Better than any wish I could’ve made for myself.” ~
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That was something he had discovered ten minutes ago back in their suite when Logan had stood before him naked and uttered, “Just tell me how you want me, Tate. I’m yours.”
That was when he’d run.
Tate had practically tripped over his feet in his hurry to be free of the suddenly suffocating confines of that bathroom. And now, as he sat alone replaying Logan’s words, he stared down at the crumpled paper he’d grabbed from his wallet and studied the words in his shaking hands.
His stomach knotted, then flipped over on itself time and time again, and Tate willed himself to breathe. The last thing he needed was to pass out from a panic attack, but that was exactly what was happening. He was panicking. And the reason? The reason was as clear as day. He was the dumbest motherfucker on the planet. Yeah, he was.
Fucking hell. He’d heard that love made people do some stupid shit before, but this… God, what if I can’t fix this? What if Logan doesn’t want me like that anymore? The thought made him want to be sick. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop the room from spinning, but all that did was bring to mind Logan back in the bathroom, beautiful as always, looking at Tate for some kind of indication of what was running through his head. And what had Tate given him? Nothing. He’d just fled.
Tate shoved the piece of paper into his pocket, along with the pen he’d grabbed from the side table back in their suite, no longer able to look at it. What had he done to them? How had he let fear of the unknown possibly ruin this? And as the memories flooded him again…
I dare you to try.
I think you’re my truth.
…he was more than aware that it was that one, the last one, that didn’t have the right ending. He’d really messed this up, but he could make it right and wanted to, more than he wanted his next breath.
He placed his head in his hands and shut his eyes, trying to gather some semblance of control so he could go back, find Logan, and do the one thing he realized he should’ve done all along. It wasn’t until he heard the sound of padded feet on the hardwood floor that he looked up to see that he didn’t need to go and find Logan, because he had tracked Tate down instead.
With the fire flickering behind him, the sharp angles of Logan’s cheeks and jaw only enhanced a face Tate loved more than he thought possible, and when Logan pulled out the chair opposite him and reached across the table to take his hands, Tate couldn’t believe it had taken his brain this long to catch up and get to where it now firmly was.
“Hey,” Logan said, his eyes roaming over Tate’s face, no doubt for signs, clues as to why he’d run away.
“Hey,” Tate replied, and then lowered his gaze to their hands, marveling over the strength he found there when they were joined.
Exactly…together, not apart. Always and forever, together.
“What are you doing out here?” Logan asked, and Tate swallowed as he felt Logan tighten his grip.
“Tate?” Logan said before Tate could give any kind of response. “What are you doing out here?”
Tate withdrew his hand and ran it through his hair, and as Logan continued to watch him, he felt his nerves kick in. “Back there in the bathroom…” he started, and then stopped. As he thought over his words, Tate wondered if there was even a way to explain how badly he’d screwed this all up, but knew the only way he’d ever know was to try. “I had a thought. It was more of a moment, I guess. A flash of us. Of all we are and will be and— Shit, I sound crazy, don’t I?”
Logan’s eyes narrowed, but he shook his head. “You don’t sound crazy. But you are freaking me out a little. Were the things you were thinking good things, at least?”
Tate frowned and then shot Logan an apologetic look. The last thing Tate wanted was to worry him more—it was the exact opposite. “Yeah, of course. I should’ve probably started with that. Everything about you was good. Perfect, really, but me…”
“What about you? You’re pretty fucking perfect from where I’m sitting. And back there in that bathroom, trust me, you looked better than any of those naked statues on the wall.”
Tate tried for a smile but knew he didn’t quite pull it off when Logan asked, “What is it, Tate? Come on; you know you can tell me anything.”
Okay, this is it, Tate thought, as he swallowed and then shifted in his seat, glancing over at the fire for a moment to gather his nerve. Then he turned back to Logan and asked, “Am I too late?”
At Logan’s confused expression, Tate knew he didn’t understand what he was asking. So he reached into his pocket where he’d shoved the piece of paper, and then put it on the table. He smoothed his hand over it, lovingly tracing his fingers over the name he now wanted as his own, and then pushed it over in front of Logan.
As Logan stared down at it, Tate watched him read over the words on the paper, waiting for a reaction, and when Logan looked up, Tate asked again, “Am I too late?”
Logan blinked several times, and Tate held his breath, wondering if he was too late. But then something miraculous happened: Logan shook his head.
The blood rushing around Tate’s head made his ears ring as he tried to comprehend what Logan was telling him, but he still hadn’t said a word, so Tate pulled the pen from his pocket and leaned over to circle the name he hadn’t been able to stop looking at ever since he’d found the piece of paper.
As Logan looked down again, Tate saw a huge grin split his lips. “So what do you think? Can the world handle two Mr. Mitchells?”
True - adjective: That which is accurate or exact.
I dare you to try.
I think you’re my truth.
Four years ago, Logan Mitchell walked into Tate’s life and challenged him to see it differently.
He dared Tate to try a kiss, when normally he wouldn’t have.
He begged him to take a chance, when he probably shouldn’t have.
But most importantly, he asked Tate to trust that he would love him, and he did. From that moment on, Tate realized exactly what his life had been missing—Logan.
Happily-ever-afters come in many different forms. But for Tate Morrison, there’s only one ending he wants. The one where the guy marries the guy and true love conquers all.
Now all he has to do is tell Logan.
Join Logan and Tate as they finally realize what the rest of us knew all along. That they belong together for better or worse—always.
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Ella Frank is the USA Today Bestselling author of the Temptation series, including Try, Take, and Trust and is the co-author of the fan-favorite contemporary romance, Sex Addict. Her Exquisite series has been praised as “scorching hot!” and “enticingly sexy!”
Some of her favorite authors include Tiffany Reisz, Kresley Cole, Riley Hart, J.R. Ward, Erika Wilde, Gena Showalter, and Carly Philips.