When One Door Opens (7 page)

Logan wanted to say something comforting, something that would chase the haunted look from Caleb’s eyes, but words failed him. He swallowed hard. “It’s probably time for me to head over to Nick’s.” It wasn’t, but if he didn’t get out of here, he’d do something drastic like hug Caleb.

Caleb nodded as if he’d expected Logan to react like an asshole and wasn’t bothered by it.

Logan got up and headed for the door. “I’ll stop off at Foremost and get some Coke. You need anything?”

Caleb leaped from the couch and crossed the room rapidly. He grabbed onto Logan’s arm and said in a strangled sounding voice, “I don’t need it and neither do you.”

Logan stood baffled at the reaction for several seconds until the reason slotted into place. He’d said Foremost, a liquor store, and not a half-dozen other places around here where he could get soda pop. His brain went there without even thinking about it. His eyes began to burn and his throat suddenly felt clogged. “Pizza and beer.” He laughed bitterly and put his hands on top of his shaved head. “What’s more natural than that?” Unconsciously, his brain was already waiting in line with money in hand.

Caleb moved in for a sneak attack. “Let’s pretend we don’t have penises.” He wrapped his arms around Logan’s waist and hugged him hard. Logan dropped his arms, letting them hover for a moment before returning the embrace.

“Do me a favor and don’t freak out,” Caleb said. “I can’t deal with that shit.”

Logan laughed. Caleb was damn good at it. It made Logan wonder why he was so determined to deny himself any comfort when he fell apart. Reluctantly, he pulled away and walked stiffly toward the door.

Caleb followed him, slipping money into his hand. “Call me if you need help… finding the place.”

W
HEN
Logan returned with the famous pie in hand, he found the door unlocked again and he noticed a baseball game on the TV with the sound turned low. Caleb sat on the leather couch. It looked like it was taking every ounce of his will not to pounce like a starving jackal. Logan set the pizza box on the coffee table. Seeing Caleb’s barely contained glee, he decided Klass had to be wrong in denying him something that made him so happy. Disgusted by his own sappiness, he flopped onto the couch.

Opening the box, Logan said, “Eat before you drool all over the carpet.”

Caleb took a deep satisfied breath before snagging a slice.

Logan started in on his own piece. The crust was crispy, the cheese thick, and the pepperoni spicy enough to make the roof of his mouth tingle. He preferred deep dish, but it had been forever since he’d had pizza anywhere close to this good. The floorshow wasn’t bad either.

Caleb really could charge $9.99 a minute just to listen to him eat the pizza, let alone watch him. Logan had to adjust himself as Caleb’s tongue went hunting for a stray dollop of sauce on his bottom lip. He hadn’t realized someone could purr and chew at the same time, but Caleb was pulling it off. He needed a distraction before he was tempted to find out whether the tangy sauce tasted better on Caleb’s tongue. Tilting his head toward the TV, Logan asked, “Did you ever play in high school?”

Caleb dropped the piece of pizza in his hand back into the box. “I wanted to, but… uh… I needed to get home right after school and help my mom with the housework and stuff.”

Logan was wishing he hadn’t asked when Caleb’s expression brightened again. He retrieved the slice of pizza and said, “The track coach, Mr. Connors, used to let me run on the track in the morning even though I wasn’t on the team. It was always the best part of my day. After about ten minutes, I would hit my stride and everything else would disappear and it would just be me and the sound of my feet pounding on the asphalt.” He hunched forward and focused on eating the slice in his hand. “Did you play any sports?”

“I played football, but I was more interested in the after-game party.”

Caleb accepted this answer without comment. “I doubt I would’ve been very good if I’d had the chance to play baseball. I’m a better spectator.”

Logan faithfully watched the Chicago Bears, but he’d never had much interest in baseball, not seeing the appeal. Too much slow-moving strategy and not enough violence. Caleb’s eyes kept returning to the game, watching with rapt attention and Logan found himself wanting to know more. “What is it about baseball you like?”

Caleb tilted his head as if thinking over the question. “Each pitch has the potential to change the course of a game, series, or season. Perfection is rare and errors can cause everything to spiral out of control.”

“That’s a good thing?”

Caleb smiled. “There’s always another eight innings to get it right.”

Logan was living proof that second chances happened. He hoped that Caleb would get one too. Seeing Caleb lick sauce from his thumb, Logan couldn’t help asking, “Did you know in high school which team you batted for?” He took a sip of water from his bottle for his suddenly dry throat.

“Considering the first time I ever got myself off I was thinking about the first baseman, Mark Grace—”

Logan sputtered and choked, sneezing as the water went up his nose. Caleb thumped him on the back and offered him a napkin. Just when he thought he was going to live, Caleb said, “You wouldn’t believe the batboy fantasies I had.” He smiled sheepishly, seemingly oblivious to the effect his words were having.

Leaning forward, Logan tried to regulate his breathing, but the image of Caleb in a tight baseball uniform, bending over to retrieve a bat wouldn’t leave his head or his cock. Phrases and images from the game filtered through his head: hitting the sweet spot, working the rosin bag over the bat, going deep in the hole, doubleheader…. Baseball was a filthy, dirty sport. Thankfully, Caleb assumed he was still choking. He rubbed Logan’s back and cooed until he recovered.

Logan kept eating after he’d already had enough, because watching Caleb devour the pizza with orgasmic delight fascinated him more than the game. He was reluctant to leave and Caleb didn’t seem inclined to shove him out the door. He felt comfortable here in a way he didn’t feel anywhere else. He knew he was venturing into dangerous territory, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.
I’m not planning on putting the moves on him
, he told himself sternly.
Even though I’m apparently his type
. It was just nice to have someone to talk to and hang out a bit. Most of the guys at the warehouse were either married or only interested in going to bars.
God, I’m fucking pathetic.
The last thought gave him pause. He couldn’t
help feeling like he was taking advantage of Caleb’s generosity. Hell, he hadn’t even paid for the pizza.

Caleb leaned back on the couch, his hands on his stomach. Looking deliciously limp and sated, he said, “God, that was so good.”

“But not enough to make us even.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want you to let me help you get your own pizza next time.”

Caleb stiffened. “I don’t need your help.”

Logan snorted. He was way too familiar with those five little words. His mind gave him a replay of the faces of people who’d tried to help him only to be shot down. He’d taken an almost visceral pleasure in seeing the resignation in their eyes as they turned away from him. All but Michael, but thinking about his former best friend hurt too fucking much. “I had to lose everything before I figured out I needed help.”

He’d sacrificed his future, his friendships, and his freedom for what? To become as much of a bastard as his old man? How could he ever have thought oblivion was worth such a price? More than anything, he wished he could correct those mistakes, but he didn’t deserve their forgiveness. He couldn’t change the past, but he could maybe help Caleb in the here and now. Caleb had created his own personal prison, and Logan was determined to help him break out.

Caleb was quiet for several minutes before he spoke. “W-what w-would we d-do?”

A plan forming in his head, Logan said, “We’d take it one step at a time.”

Chapter 3

R
UBBING
sleep from his eyes, Caleb plopped on the leather couch. The last time he had left his apartment the police were called. While attempting to check the mail for an ailing Mrs. Simon, he had a panic attack in the stairwell. He had only managed two floors before losing it.
What had been the trigger? Voices?
A woman walking up the stairs complaining about an unfair parking ticket. Hardly a terror-inspiring situation. But logic had very little to do with fear.

The woman had called the police when she saw him huddled against the wall with his arms covering his head. His memory of the event was fuzzy after that point. He remembered the police attempting to talk to him, but not what they said or his responses. He also remembered the burning humiliation of being carried like a child by Marco back to his apartment. Mrs. Simon must have been the one to call Marco. Or had she called Uncle Harrison and he had sent Marco in his stead? Caleb wouldn’t be surprised.

Today, Logan expected Caleb to risk falling apart again.
There’s no way I can do it.
Caleb would have to call Logan and cancel the trip out. Logan would understand. It wasn’t like he cared either way. He was just being kind to his boss’s freak nephew. A knock on the door squashed Caleb’s hope of canceling over the phone instead of in person.
Maybe I could pretend to be asleep?

The next knock was hard enough to make the door shake and chain rattle. Caleb rose and walked over to the door. The police would be showing up
again
if Logan kept at it.
What if they arrested him for disturbing the peace?
Moving quickly, Caleb unlocked and opened the door.

Logan entered, looking annoyingly chipper and gorgeous for three o’clock in the morning, dressed in cargo shorts and a fitted black T-shirt. Logan’s dark gaze dipped, then rose again, making Caleb wonder for the hundredth time if Logan was gay. He seemed more comfortable talking about Caleb’s gayness than any other straight man Caleb had encountered, but he had never trusted his so-called instincts. Even if he did, he would never have the guts to act on them.

“I’m sorry I made you get up early, but I don’t think today is a good day to try going to the roof. I didn’t sleep well last night and being too tired can trigger an attack.”

Logan leaned against the doorframe. “Are you saying it would be better if I just showed up unannounced one morning so you wouldn’t stay up late worrying?”

Caleb’s breath caught audibly in his throat. “N-no, I’d have to k-know ahead of t-time.”

“In that case, we might as well try today since you’ll worry either way.” Logan handed him an insulated cup. “I got you this since you don’t drink coffee.”

Seeing the determination in Logan’s eyes, Caleb sighed and accepted the cup.
At least Logan won’t have any trouble hauling my ass back into the apartment.
After popping the tab, he took a deep drink. “It’s good. Thanks.” He was proud of himself for not spitting it out on the floor.

“Really? It smells awful, but the shopkeeper said the tea was relaxing.”

Caleb took another sip to hide his grin. It wasn’t so bad if you didn’t mind sucking on tree bark. “We should get going. I don’t want to make you late for the early shift at work.”

“You’re going to need shoes.”

Caleb looked at his socks, a sudden surge of panic flooding through his system.
Do I have shoes?
He couldn’t remember. He had given away a lot of stuff in the past couple of years. “Shoes… shoes, shoes.”

“You don’t have shoes? No wonder you don’t leave the apartment. I’d get ten different diseases before I reached the ground floor if I walked around barefoot at my apartment complex.”

Caleb scowled. “I have shoes. There, next to—” He spun around and headed for the bedroom. Stepping over to the treadmill, he grabbed a worn pair of Adidas from the floor. He threw them on and drained the last of the awful tea.

When Caleb returned, Logan was tossing his own cup in the trash. It was time to go. His keys thankfully hung on a hook by the door. He grabbed them as they exited the apartment, dropping the keys twice before he managed to secure the door.

Logan stood behind him at the foot of the stairs with his hands resting on Caleb’s shoulders. Caleb took a deep breath, which was a mistake. The witch’s brew in his stomach threatened to take flight. He should never have agreed to let Logan help him with his agoraphobia. He blamed the pizza. And hormones.

Logan leaned in close, his coffee scented breath warm against Caleb’s cheek. “Tell me about your first time with a guy.”

Caleb was pretty sure he blacked out for a second or two as the sound of Logan’s gravelly voice traveled from his head to his toes. Logan squeezed his shoulders, giving them a slight push. As Caleb started to climb, his mouth decided to act without his permission. “I was running on the track and a guy started jogging behind me. He didn’t try to talk to me or anything, so I just kept running.”

“Hmm, giving him a great view of your ass.”

Caleb was glad Logan couldn’t see him right now. They could roast marshmallows off his face.
That answered the whole straight or gay question. Right?
He cleared his throat. “I finished my last lap and headed for the locker room. I wasn’t expecting him to follow me.”