Take (Temptation Series) (21 page)

Tate glared at her, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Logan turn toward him.

“She always comes to these things?” Tate was about to answer until Logan mumbled, “A heads-up would’ve been appreciated.”

“Tate’s never been great at remembering details,” Diana contributed, making his teeth clench, but Logan was more than happy to deal with her.

“I don’t remember asking you. And while we’re on the subject, he seems pretty clear about one important detail.”

Diana was too smart to ask what, and Logan didn’t bother waiting.

“He doesn’t want you here.”

Her shrewd eyes moved back and forth between them, but before she could open her mouth, Logan leaned in until their noses almost touched and spoke loud enough that Tate could make it out.

“Have to say, it takes balls to show up where you’re not wanted, so maybe it isn’t such a surprise that Tate likes me after all. Your pair’s
almost
as big as mine.”

Tate was sure that he’d misheard Logan until Diana turned her face and said, “You’re disgusting.”

To which Logan replied, as only he could, “You have no idea.”

Finally coming to his senses, Tate spoke up. “Diana?”

“What?” she snapped, taking a quick step back as if she just realized how close she and Logan were standing.

“You need to stop coming over here. We’re divorced.”

Diana crossed her arms almost in challenge. “Not yet, we’re not.”

He heard Logan chuckle beside him, but he couldn’t seem to find any humor in their current situation.

“I’m sorry,” Logan said innocently enough.  “But she actually said that as if she has a chance of getting back together with you.”

Diana outwardly fumed. “Do you ever shut up?”

“Now
that
is an interesting question. Would you like to answer her, or should I?”

Tate knew what Logan was thinking, and he had no doubt that the words would fall right out of his mouth, so instead of allowing that to happen, he decided to take over.

“This isn’t about Logan. This is about you.
You
shouldn’t still be coming to
my
family’s home. We’re separated.
Divorcing
. It’s uncomfortable enough in this house without you showing up, and honestly, it makes you look desperate.”

“It’s true. Looks
really
desperate,” Logan added, helpful as ever.

“Ha,” Diana laughed, and the sound was ugly as she ran her eyes over him. There’d been a time when Tate would’ve responded to that with something other than annoyance. “You think I look desperate? And how do you think
you
look? You’re with a man for God’s sake.”

Tate was beyond frustrated and he hadn’t even stepped foot inside his house.

Why am I standing on this porch having yet another argument with her?

“This is going nowhere. I’m not trying to be cruel—”

“I am, just so it’s noted,” Logan interrupted.

Tate frowned at him, but Logan had a point. It wasn’t as if she were even trying to be cordial.

“Are my mom and dad inside?”

A bitter sneer curled her lips. “Yes. Along with your sister and Sam. This, I can’t wait to see.”

Tate pushed past her and opened the door.

As he walked inside and Logan followed, he heard, “What’s killing you the most? The fact that you
don’t have him or that I
do
?”

Tate didn’t wait around for Diana’s answer. Instead, he continued along the original wood floors and down the narrow hall until he came to the family room.

When he realized what he was about to do, he stopped so suddenly that Logan ran into him and they
both
ended up stepping into the archway.

Four pairs of eyes found them, and all Tate could think was,
What a fucking entrance.

* * *

Logan stood beside Tate and had a revelation.

This must be how suspects feel in a police lineup.

He did a quick scan of the room and spotted yet another familiar face from last week’s stop in hell—Tate’s sister. She was looking at the both of them with an expression of total shock.

The man beside her, who Logan presumed was her husband, was in blue jeans and a flannel shirt, and
he
was looking at him as if he were an alien.

Yeah? Well, welcome to the fucking club. This isn’t exactly a normal Sunday for me either, pal.

That left the final two occupants of the room.

Tate’s father was seated over on a couch with his mother against the far wall. Once she spotted the two of them, the smile she had on her face twisted into a cruel, unforgiving line.

Mrs. Morrison stood and clasped her hands in front of herself.

Her short, brown hair was cut into a blunt bob and pushed back behind her ears. She was dressed for church. Her floral-print dress was very respectable, and she was exactly as Logan had imagined—unyielding.

As he continued to observe her, Logan noticed the way she completely ignored his existence and zeroed in on Tate as she straightened her shoulders until her back was rigid.

She was
not
happy that he’d brought the pervert to her house.

“William…” she started as he turned back to check on Tate.

Logan watched the way she approached her son as if he were a stranger. Then she stopped and turned her head his way to pin him with a look that spoke volumes.

The revulsion directed toward him was fierce, unlike anything Logan had ever encountered, and even though he’d sworn he wouldn’t care, he did.

“Mom,” Tate said, once again capturing her attention.

“I told you
not
to bring him here,” she spat out as her hands clenched by her sides.

Wow.

“His
name
is Logan.”

She didn’t even bother with a second glance as she answered in a tone so icy Logan was surprised it didn’t freeze Tate into a human Popsicle. “I don’t care what his name is.”

“Mom!” Tate shouted, clearly shocked by her rudeness.

“Tate, it’s okay,” he offered.

What did he care if she didn’t want to acknowledge his existence? It was nothing worse than his own father had done when he’d been alive.

“Don’t you call him that,” she told him, finally walking over to stand in front of him. “His
name
is William.”

Logan bit his tongue so hard he could have sworn he tasted blood.

He stood there, trying to remember that, as an adult, you were supposed to show respect to your elders, but did that apply when the elder was a cruel, ignorant—

“Stop being so rude,” Tate said for him.

Logan took a step back, not wanting to be close when the shit hit the fan. This woman was vibrating with rage, and it was all directed at him.

“How dare you talk to me like that.”

“Me? You’re the one acting as if I brought a murderer home,” Tate spat out, and Logan could see his hands had balled into fists by his side.

Her head swiveled toward her son as she announced, “You might as well have.”

“What did you say?” Tate demanded.

Mrs. Morrison looked back at him as if he really had committed the most heinous of crimes, and then turned back to Tate. “I don’t want him in my house. He’s taken what used to be good and pure, and—”

“And
what?”
Tate finally exploded
.
“What has he done to me, your good and pure son? I’m almost thirty for fuck’s sake! I’m separated because I married a woman who got bored and went elsewhere when I was out working two jobs. Yet
she
still sits next to you in church and comes over for Sunday fucking lunch!”

The room was so combustible that Logan was afraid to breathe, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tate’s father stand. He’d never seen Tate more furious. They’d both had their fair share of arguments, but not like this. Tate’s temper was riding him.

“He hasn’t done
anything
to you. He hasn’t even said hello and you’re treating him like he’s got the plague. I can’t believe you’re acting like this.”

“And
I
can’t believe you’d have sexual relations with a man and bring him to lunch like you think we’d be okay with it! That we’d share a meal with this...this queer.”

And there it is
—
the moment of truth.

This was the turning point into either acceptance or denial, and Logan could actually feel his palms sweating as he waited for Tate’s answer.

The room was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop.

Logan’s eyes moved over the other spectators until he reached Tate’s father. He was still over by the couch, but he was now watching him with suspicious eyes—Tate’s eyes. There, right in front of him, was a close-to-perfect duplicate of Tate twenty years from now. It was disconcerting.

“Unreal,” Tate murmured before he started laughing.

It was an odd, humorless sound that Logan never wanted to hear after today. It was the sound of someone cracking, falling apart, and not understanding why.

“It was stupid of me to think you would try and understand my side of things instead of the gossipy bullshit that Diana and Jill brought back to you. But yes, since it seems like that fact
needs
confirming. I am having sex with Logan, and you know what? I’ve never been more satisfied in my entire life.”

Well, I’ll be damned.

Logan was stunned, and as his eyes found Diana’s, he was more than slightly pleased that
she
was too. No one had shocked him more than Tate had right then. He was pretty sure Tate’s mother felt the same, because she sucked in her breath and then pointed to what looked like a side door.

“Leave.”

Tate tilted his head to the side as if he didn’t understand, but Logan did. His heart ached for what he knew was about to happen.

“Excuse me?” Tate asked.

“I said leave. Get out of my house.”

Logan watched Tate closely as the words seemed to register.

He blinked several times and then raised a hand to push it back through his hair. When he dropped it down and his palm hit his thigh, it was the only sound in the otherwise silent room.

“You want me to leave?” he asked again, his tone flat, disbelieving.

Tate’s father stepped forward, placed a hand on his mother’s shoulder—a sign of solidarity—and spoke for the first time.

“I think it’s best if you go now. You’ve upset your mother.”

Tate’s mouth opened as if he wanted to say something, but nothing came out. His eyes flickered up over his parents and landed on his sister, and when she stood, Logan could’ve sworn he saw a glimpse of regret in her eyes.

Tate stuffed his hands into his pockets and nodded. His jaw was twitching, and from his side view, Logan could see the flush of anger and hurt spreading across his cheeks.

“Fine. I’ll go. But it won’t change anything.”

Tate looked over at him, and as Logan stared back, he’d never felt so fucking helpless in his whole life. He nodded to him, trying to silently convey that he was there—he wasn’t going anywhere.

Whatever you need.

Tate turned and started walking toward the door.

As Logan followed, he heard Mrs. Morrison call out, “William?”

It was Logan’s turn to hold his breath as Tate stopped where he was and glanced back at the people who were supposed to love him unconditionally. Then she landed her final blow.

“I didn’t raise my son to be gay. You’re a disgrace to this family, and you are no longer welcome here.”

If heartache had a face, it was Tate’s right then, but instead of responding, he spun away and marched out of the house, leaving him to follow.

Logan started toward the door, but at the last moment, he turned to face Tate’s family. He couldn’t leave without saying something to these people, and he’d be damned if they didn’t know they’d just let an amazing human being walk out their door because of their own ignorance.

“How could you treat him like that? You'd rather side with some malicious bitch than trying to understand your own son? I've never met anyone like Tate—”

“His
name
is William,” Tate’s mother cut in.

“No, it's Tate. That honest, stubborn man that you just let walk out your fucking door is
Tate
. I hope when you look at the empty chair at your dinner table this afternoon you realize what the fuck you just did and come to your senses. If you do, he’ll be with me, Logan Mitchell—the pervert.
She
knows where to find me,” he made sure to add, pointing to Diana, who was now standing by the side door, probably wanting to run after Tate.