Microsoft Word - Taxes_and_TARDIS-NR_Walker.doc (11 page)

And that did me in. I turned on my heel and cleared the table between us. I swung at the son-of-a-fucking-bitch Marty, connecting my fist with his face, sending him flying backwards.

I tried to hit him again, but there too many hands on me, holding me back, restraining me.

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Someone helped Marty to his feet. He held his hand to his bloodied nose and looked at me with shock and apology in his eyes, but it wasn't enough. I swung at him again, and then two security guys dragged me out the door, throwing me into the street.

Tim followed me out, on his own two legs, and

grabbed me, stopping me from trying to get back inside.

"Forget Marty," he told me. "Logan left."

I looked around the darkened street. "Is he still here?" I looked back to the two men who stood at the door.

"Was there a guy out here? Tall, glasses… did you see where he went?"

One of them took pity on me. "Taxi. That way." He nodded up the street.

My first instinct was to go to Logan's house and

knock on his door until he agreed to see me.

But then I stopped.

He wouldn't want to see me. Why would he? He

thought I'd used him. He thought I was like all the other assholes who teased him, bullied him.
I thought you were
different
is what he'd said. And then that he should have known better.

I'd be the last person he'd want to see.

"Come on," Tim said, leading me towards the waiting cab. "We'll go find him."

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Trying not to cry like a fucking girl, I climbed into the taxi and shook my head. "I'll just go home," I mumbled, and told the cabbie the address.

Tim slid in beside me, slammed the door, and stared at me. "What? You're just gonna give up?"

Unable to look at him, I stared out the cab window.

"He won't want to see me."

The rest of the cab ride was quiet. Well, Tim tried to talk, and I told him to shut the fuck up. And when we got home, I walked into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge and some ice from the freezer. My knuckles were cut and throbbing.

Tim followed me and threw his keys on the kitchen

counter. "Fucking hell, Brent," he huffed at me. "You finally have someone in your life worth holding onto, and you're just gonna let an asshole like Marty fuck it up for you?"

"What else am I supposed to do?" I yelled at him.

"He is too good for me. It's always been there, hanging over us, the differences between us. Even his sister saw it!"

Tim scoffed. "His sister was being a bitch."

"He's better than me. He deserves someone better than me. Someone smarter, someone who knows what the fuck he's talking about when he's trying to explain statistical finance."

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Tim snorted and shook his head. "He's not any better than you. You're just different, but neither one is better or not-better than the other. Brent, you're a good guy, one of the best guys I know. And any guy, regardless of how smart he is or what he does for a living, would be lucky to have you."

I took the ice pack off my hand and put it on my

forehead. I was getting a headache, and maybe the cold would stem the tears that kept threatening to fall.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. I took the icepack off my forehead and looked at Tim. "If that's Marty, I'll fucking kill him."

I stood in the kitchen doorway, looking to see who it was Tim let inside. But it wasn't Marty.

It was Logan.

The first thing I noticed was that he'd been crying.

And it twisted my gut. The second thing I noticed was he was holding some papers.

He swallowed hard. "This is your tax return." He walked over to the dining table and pulled out a pen. "If you sign it now, then you'll be free of any obligation to see me."

I shook my head. But the words wouldn't come. My

eyes stung, and my chest hurt. But I somehow walked over to him and picked up the pen. "It wasn't like that," I said

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softly. "Please listen—"

"You don't have to explain." He shook his head and lifted his chin. "In fact, I'd rather you didn't."

"But what Marty said wasn't true."

"Brent, please don't make this any more difficult."

And I understood then. It was too late. He wanted

nothing to do with me. It shouldn't have surprised me, but the hollow ache in my chest burned, making my eyes fill with water.

I sucked back a breath and willed myself not to cry.

Fuck, I hadn't cried in years. I shook my head and signed the paper. And I wasn't just signing my stupid fucking tax return. I was signing us done. That was it. It was over.

I looked at him, and I know the tears in my eyes

surprised him, but still, he said nothing. He was so composed, so together. And I was fucking falling apart.

"Please don't…" I started to say, but he picked up the papers and took a step back.

I wanted to tell him to stay. I wanted to tell him to stop. But as he turned and walked to the front door, I couldn't make a sound.

"Logan, wait!"

Those were the words I wanted to say, but it was

Tim who said them. I looked at him, my best friend, as he walked over to us. "Logan, please," he started. "What

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Marty said isn't true. So if you're gonna leave, if you're gonna end things with Brent, then at least do it over something
he
did, not some bullshit story Marty made up."

Logan looked at Tim and swallowed but said

nothing. He just waited for Tim to finish.

And I… I just stood there.

Tim looked at me then back at Logan and told him,

"Brent doesn't give a shit about taxes or how much refund he'll get back. He never has. Marty's just a jealous asshole who'd say anything to get his hands on Brent, and when he saw how Brent looked at you, he knew he didn't stand a chance."

I stared at Tim. He was talking about me like I

wasn't even there. He was talking
for
me, saying all the shit I could never say.

Tim looked back at me and sighed then turned to

face Logan. "If you had any idea what Brent was like before he met you, you'd understand. You'd see how different he is now."

Logan finally looked at me then. And I thought for one second I saw a flicker of something in his eyes, but then he shook his head. "I can't…" And he turned to leave.

"Logan, please." This time the words were mine.

They were barely a whisper, but he heard them, and he stopped. When he looked at me, I tried to tell him, I tried to

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say the words that would make him stay. "I… I, um, I…"

Logan shook his head and turned back toward the

door. He must have thought my inability to speak meant I had nothing to say. But I had so much to say. There was so much to say, I just couldn't say the words out loud.

"Logan, Brent's in love with you."

Logan and I both turned to Tim, both of us gaping, and Tim nodded. He stared at Logan and continued. "He just can't tell you. His fucked-up parents did a real number on him. He has a hard time with saying shit out loud, but it doesn't mean it's not true."

Both men looked at me then, just in time to see the first of my tears fall. I scrubbed at my face, only to wince at the pain in my knuckles.

"Oh, Brent," Tim said softly with sadness in his eyes. "I'm sorry, buddy. But it's true."

I nodded and wiped my cheeks again. "I know," I croaked out. And for some reason, I didn't want to stand up anymore. I was suddenly fucking exhausted. I needed to sit down. I fell into the sofa, my head fell back, and I closed my eyes. "Logan," I said quietly. "It's okay. You can go if you want. I just want you to know that what Marty said wasn't true." I took a shaky breath, and even with my eyes closed, more tears fell. "And what Tim said is."

After a long silence, I heard the quiet click of a

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door, and I knew Logan had gone. So when someone knelt on the floor in front of me, I slowly opened my eyes, expecting to see Tim.

But it wasn't. It was Logan.

He had tears in his eyes, and he reached out and

took my hand. "What happened to your hand?" he asked quietly.

"I punched Marty," I answered flatly. "He was lucky all I broke was his nose."

Logan's long, gentle fingers traced over the bruised and bloodied knuckles. He whispered, "Did you break your hand?"

I opened and closed my hand a few times and

answered him just as quietly. "I don't think so."

He spoke, looking to the floor. "Why me?" he asked. "I mean you could have any guy you wanted. You're athletic with blond hair, blue eyes…" He shook his head and sighed quietly. "You're absolutely gorgeous. It doesn't make sense you'd want a geek like me."

"Logan…" I lifted his chin so he'd look at me. "You have no idea how sexy you are. Your body, your lips, your accent, even your glasses…" I smiled at him. But then I told him seriously, "The way you think, how you see the world… your mind… it's a beautiful thing."

Logan blushed and smiled, and then his lips twisted

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sadly, and he sighed again. "I'm sorry I believed him and not you," he said, still whispering. "I just never understood why you'd want me. I'm used to being the punch line of jokes for guys like you…" He shook his head. "So when Marty told me you'd even bragged about screwing me to screw the IRS, my insecurities made me believe him. I'm sorry."

I cupped my hand to his face, and he leaned into it.

"Logan, I would never hurt you like that, not ever." I sat forward, leaned my forehead against his, and taking a deep breath to steel my nerves, I told him, "Everything Tim said is true."

Logan's lip curled into half a smile. "Which part?"

I chuckled nervously though my tears. God, he was

going to make say it. I opened my mouth to say it, to tell him… but I couldn't. I just… couldn't.

He held his face to mine. I could feel his eyelashes on my cheek, and he whispered, "You love me?"

I gasped, and I tried to answer him with words, but they were stuck in my throat, strangling my heart. I couldn't say them, so I nodded. "When you read that book to me…"

And I could feel him smile into my cheek. His

fingers slid into my hair, and he pulled my face from his.

His eyes were bright and shining, filled with tears, and he nodded. "I love you, too."

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I huffed out a breath of relief, and before I could even smile, he kissed me.

It was a different kiss, a reverent kind of kiss.

This man, this beautiful man, loved me. And with

that overwhelming, heightening, humbling realization, I knew what I wanted.

I wanted to give myself to him.

He already had my heart. I wanted him to have my

body too.

Breaking the kiss, I stood up and led him to my

room. I walked to my bedside table, and when I handed him a condom, he looked at me, confused.

"I want… I want you…" I fumbled with my words, not sure how to ask. "Logan, I need…" I huffed out a sigh, unable to say the words.

Logan looked at the condom in his hand then

looked to me. "You want me… to
top
?"

I sucked back a breath and nodded. "I want that with you."

His eyes were wide, and he looked a little scared.

"I've never done that," he said quietly.

"Then I'll be your first." He still looked a little hesitant, so I kissed him softly. "Please."

His eyes searched mine, and after a long moment,

he nodded. I let him take the lead. I needed him to take

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charge. I wanted him to take care of me, to possess my body, to use it for his pleasure. I wanted him to claim me.

I needed it.

He undressed me, savoring each reveal of skin with his hands, his lips. I lay face down on my bed, and he kissed my back and neck while his fingers pressed and probed and prepped me. And when he finally knelt between my thighs and leaned over me, I was desperate to have him inside me.

He took his time, and he took my breath away. He

was slow, and he was so sure as he inched inside me, filling me, fucking me. I groaned shamelessly, gripping the sheets and gritting my teeth as he pushed all the way in. And when he could go no farther, when his balls were flush against me, he panted and puffed, and asked if I was okay.

"Yes, yes," I grunted, lifting my hips, pushing against him. "Fuck me, please."

And he did. He started to slide inside me, thrusting and groaning. It stung and stretched me, but I liked the burn. I lifted my hips higher, giving him more of me, and he lay over my back with his hips flush on my ass, kissing my shoulder, and his long, rigid cock so far inside me.

God, he was so far inside me. Every fucking inch.

I could feel pressure building, in my belly, in my chest. It took me a moment to realize it wasn't an orgasm. It

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