Page 19 of Written in Scars

Chapter Seven

Logan spent the morning in the city, killing time in book shops and cafes, wandering restlessly from one venue to another, unable to settle. His emotions were all over the place: happy, anxious, ecstatic one moment and despondent the next. What am I getting into? he wondered for the dozenth time.

Did it matter? Being with Sam, last night and this morning, made him happier than he could ever remember. But since dropping Sam off at the Metro station, almost three hours ago, that joyful buzz had faded, leaving him a bundle of raw nerves. Sam was adamant when he left; he was going back to the house to collect his clothes and tell Johan it was over.

But what if he didn’t? What if Johan talked him into staying? Eleven years together couldn’t be discounted overnight. Maybe Johan would convince Sam to give it one more try. If what Sam had told him was true, Johan had had a million last chances, but that didn’t mean Sam wouldn’t give him another. He told Logan it was over, and maybe he meant it at the time, but he didn’t know Sam, or Johan, well enough to understand the dynamics of their relationship. They could be one of those couples who got off on provoking each other and thrived on jealousy.

Damn it. You’re too old, a persistent voice in Logan’s head needled, you don’t need this aggravation.

He didn’t need it, no, but he wanted it. He wanted Sam more than any man he’d ever met.

Logan took a sip of his latte, which had gone cold, and watched the crowd walk past the window. The usual city centre bustle of busy people with places to go, all oblivious to the emotional torment he was in.

His phone sounded a message alert. Logan snatched the handset. A text from Sam:

I’m on the Metro back into town. Will be at Central Station in ten mins.

Logan laughed out loud, and all his apprehension fell away.

I’ll be there: he typed back.

He was standing on the platform when Sam’s familiar head and shoulders appeared on the stairway from the underground station. Logan felt like he was dancing on the head of a pin and rushed to meet him. They’d only been apart a few hours, but this felt like a major homecoming. Throwing his arms around Sam, he didn’t care who saw them. He kissed and inhaled his intoxicating scent.

“Are you okay? How did it go?”

“I’m fine,” Sam assured him. “I expected to feel a lot worse, but I don’t. It really is over. I can’t believe it’s taken me so long to do this.”

“How did he react to the news?”

Sam shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t know. He was still high, still totally absorbed in his own world. I don’t even think it’ll have registered that I’ve gone. He probably thinks I’m wandering round the block and will go back to him in an hour or two.”

“What do you want to do now?”

Sam gestured to his suitcase. “Can I dump this at yours for a couple of nights?”

Logan grinned. “Let’s go.”

They headed out of the station and towards the car park. “It’ll only be two nights,” Sam said.

“You can stay as long as you want. I mean it.”

“That’s not a good idea, though is it? We only met last night. I really like you Logan, there’s something between us and I’d like to see what it is, but we need to take our time. I don’t want to rush headlong into another relationship when I haven’t freed myself from the last one.”

His words struck; a long, narrow blade, straight to the core. Sam was right, of course he was, and yet Logan wanted him; in his home, his bed and his life. “Whatever you want to do,” he said.

“I have a friend called Mark. He’s on holiday at the minute but will be back soon. Mark’s been looking for a flat mate with no luck, so the timing of this couldn’t be better. I’ve already sent him a text to say I’ll take the room.”

There was hope there, and Logan clung to it. Sam leaving Johan wasn’t a trick – a short, sharp shock to teach his husband a lesson. In setting up a new place to live, Sam proved he was serious about the split.

Back at the cottage, they stood in the middle of the living room, in front of the wide window with its broad view of the sea and held each other. With his arms around Sam, one hand on his back, the other on the pert rise of his arse, Logan pressed his face into the crook of his neck. His kissed him, tasting his skin and inhaled the clean scent of his hair. Sam’s hands were on Logan’s shoulders and his head rested against his.

“Thank you,” Sam murmured, brushing his lips against Logan’s ear. “If I hadn’t met you last night, I would still be there. Even after what I saw, I’d have accepted his half-arsed apology and probably wasted another two or three years of my life.”

“Maybe not. Don’t underestimate yourself. You already knew your friend was looking for a flatmate. Things might not have turned out so differently, with or without me.”

“No. Meeting you gave me the confidence to do it. You made me realise I deserve better than that. I don’t want a husband who plays around. The drugs I could deal with because I know I could have supported him to get clean. But the other men, constantly looking for the next easy dick, that’s not something I can stand. I should have left him after the first time.”

They stood in silence for a while, holding each other. It was perfect. Having this beautiful man in his arms, in his home; it couldn’t get better than this.

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