Page 18 of Bound in Blood
“Logan, are you suggesting that the only reason anyone would be interested in you is because they have some ulterior motive?” Marco asked, trying to keep his tone even, though his anger was spiking. He wanted to find whoever made Logan feel that way and snap their neck, he wanted to?—
“Well, yeah. I mean, that’s the only reason anyone has ever been that nice to me in the past.” Logan looked from Marco to Mateo, his confusion evident. “Why are you mad?”
Marco let his gaze drift over Logan, taking in his features for a long minute as he thought about what to say. He startedwith his ginger hair, curls all askew from Marco playing with it earlier. Then, he took in his rounded green eyes. His little button nose, the freckles scattered over the bridge, dusting over pink cheeks. How could anyone look at Logan’s perfect face and only think of how best to use him?
“Humans are so fucking stupid.” Marco settled on.
“Or blind,” Mateo agreed.
Logan blinked at both of them, mouth opening slightly before shutting again. “T-Thanks?” he said hesitantly, like he’d never been complimented in his life. The thought of his mate going his whole life without proper complimenting made Marco want to put a fist through a wall, but he would do his best to try and let it go.
“It’s just… odd,” Logan said after a beat of silence. “Nobody’s ever… looked at me before, y’know?”
He glanced away from Marco and Mateo, clearly flustered under the weight of their attention. “I mean, I’ve had relationships. Kind of. But they didn’t really like the emotional baggage that came with being with me. My family was… a lot.”
Was?
“It wasn’t their fault. They had a lot going on. My dad was the head football coach in our town, so he had a lot going on. And my mom… I dunno.” He shrugged. “I have two younger brothers who needed a lot of attention. I was the oldest. It was my job to be reliable. To help.”
He said it like it was a rule, not a memory. But Marco could feel the bitterness humming beneath it.
“I was the only one my brothers listened to. I drove them everywhere. Football practice, school, therapy. They tore everything apart, but I was dependable.” He smiled faintly. “Reliable. My parents could count on me.”
A pause. Then a small, breathy laugh. “My youngest brother, Justin, used to call me the golden child.”
Marco could already feel the ‘but’ coming.
“The first strike was getting caught drinking at a party. I was eighteen, and my college was over thirty minutes from home, so I thought it would be fine. I didn’t go overboard, or anything. Just one singular beer. But it was enough to ‘damage my reputation,’ whatever that meant.”
He glanced down, worrying a loose thread on his jeans. “Second strike was the boyfriend. He was my college roommate. Caught kissing him in the back of his car after a visit home. My mom cried. My dad didn’t speak to me for a week.”
“And the third?” Mateo asked quietly.
Logan hesitated.
“I failed out. Tried to juggle work and school and taking care of my family, and I dropped too many classes to recover.” He pulled the thread loose. “It was my fault. I should have figured out a way to make it work.”
“What was your family doing to help you during all of this?” Marco asked through clenched teeth.
“It’s not their job to help me,” Logan answered quickly, robotically.
“Tesoro,I’m not sure if anyone has told you this, but parents were invented to take care of their children.” Mateo tsked, “What happened after you left school?”
“I wasn’t welcome back home,” Logan finished softly.
There was no bitterness in his tone. No anger. Just acceptance. Like it was a natural consequence, not a cruelty.
Mateo’s fingers twitched. Marco felt his molars grinding together.
Logan gave a weak smile, eyes still fixed on the thread he’d unraveled. “They didn’t say it outright. Just… suggested I figure something out on my own. That it would be best for everyone. Less confusing for the boys.”
“Confusing,” Mateo echoed flatly.
“Because you failed a few classes?” Marco asked, voice low and dangerous.
Logan laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Because I failed the classes. Because I made them look bad. Because I was being a bad son, and it was inconvenient to them.”
There was a beat of silence so loud it felt like screaming.
