After eating, they ran several laps around the island to keep themselves in shape, and then dozed for a while under the canopy of palms, with Andrew on top of him, his face buried in Logan’s happy trail or against his chest. Normal people would probably call it cuddling. Logan didn’t call it anything, but it was his favorite part of the day. Peaceful. Companionable. The closest to happy he’d been since the plane crash.
He was usually awakened by a wet mouth around his cock. After sleepily fucking Andrew’s mouth, he watched Andrew get himself off, running his fingers through Andrew’s hair and stroking his neck and back. Sometimes he sucked Andrew’s cock if Andrew didn’t feel too weird about it that day. Sometimes they didn’t even touch each other sexually—just touched for the sake of it, and that was enough. Then they ate—and then the circle repeated itself.
The routine was almost comforting despite having a surreal quality to it. It wasn’t a relationship. It wasn’t even sex for the sake of it. It was a need. A necessity.
But it was simple. It was familiar.
It was all they had.
***
Their routine was broken by a huge storm.
They didn’t bother with the shelter—it wouldn’t withstand this kind of storm, so they huddled under a palm tree, Logan’s arms locked around Andrew from behind. Just for balance, of course.
His chin on Andrew’s shoulder, Logan looked at the raging ocean, wondering when the storm would finally stop.
Something white on the horizon caught his gaze.
For a moment, Logan’s brain didn’t seem to comprehend what he was seeing.
But the longer he watched, the more certain he became. His eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. There really was a ship—some kind of yacht—heading toward the island. Though “heading” didn’t seem to be an accurate description: the speed with which it was approaching the island was rather unsafe. The ship had been likely knocked off its course because of the storm. In the nine months they had been on the island, they hadn’t seen a single ship.
But now…
Andrew made a questioning sound, and Logan realized that he might have squeezed him too hard in his excitement. Excitement. Was that what he was feeling? Logan didn’t know. But his heart was pounding, his body tense and alert for what felt like the first time in forever. It felt almost as though he was waking up from some bizarre dream.
“What?” Andrew said, his voice hoarse from lack of use.
“The ship,” Logan said, his voice equally hoarse.
Andrew went rigid before straightening up from his slouch against Logan’s chest.
Logan couldn’t see his face from his position behind him, but he could see Andrew’s muscles stiffen as he saw the ship, too.
“It’s heading our way,” Logan said, rather unnecessarily.
Andrew didn’t say anything for a moment.
Then, he all but scrambled away from Logan and got to his feet. He ran toward the shore.
Logan followed him after a moment, feeling oddly numb.
They were going to be rescued.
Rescued.
The thought was… strange.
Obviously he was happy. Beyond happy. But it was still strange. It didn’t seem real.
But it was.
The yacht dropped anchor in the island’s tiny bay, its crew clearly intending to wait out the bad weather there.
They swam toward the yacht, not even bothering to grab their things—they could always come back for them later. The raging ocean was nearly impossible to navigate. Logan grabbed Andrew’s arm when he disappeared under the high waves and squeezed it. Keep close.
Andrew nodded.
It seemed to take forever before they reached the yacht.
The moment Logan heard surprised shouts as the people on the yacht noticed them, a surreal feeling hit him again. Those people were speaking English. Hearing a voice that wasn’t his or Andrew’s after nine months was something of a shock.
Numb and disoriented, he climbed behind Andrew onto the deck and allowed other people to pull him up. Hands touching his shoulders. Hands that weren’t Andrew’s. It was fucking weird.
“Who are you?” someone said, wrapping a blanket around him. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Logan didn’t reply. Couldn’t.
His eyes met Andrew’s. He was staring at Logan with wide eyes, looking equally lost and dazed, the way he looked when he wanted to be held.
Logan’s fingers twitched toward him. He balled them into fists.
They had been rescued.
It was over.
Everything was over.
Part II
Chapter 12
Boston greeted them with sunshine.
Andrew slowly descended the steps of the private jet that Logan’s family had sent for them—well, for Logan. He watched as two young women, likely Logan’s sisters, hugged Logan tightly, their eyes wet and their smiles radiant. A warm family reunion. It must have been nice.
Andrew turned away from the emotional scene and just stood there for a moment, unsure what to do.
The past three days since they’d been rescued had been kind of crazy: medical checkups, interviews, endless phone calls, and then the long flight back to the US. The latter had made him so anxious Andrew had to be medicated for the rest of the flight. He still felt off balance. The sheer noise of the airport was overwhelming, and he had to breathe deeply to stop a panic attack. It was fine. He was back home. He would get used to the noise again.
A cab. He needed to get a cab. A cab would take him to Rutledge Manor. The Rutledges were likely waiting for him. Probably. Maybe. Andrew had called them and told them that he was alive and when he was going to arrive. The conversation had been… awkward, to say the least. Andrew wasn’t even offended that Derek Rutledge’s only question had been about Vivian. Telling his brother-in-law that his only sister really was dead would forever be among the most uncomfortable conversations of his life.
And now he was back. Back home.
Home. Was Rutledge Manor still his home? He’d lived there for nine years with his wife, but now that Vivian was gone, he doubted he would be welcome to stay. He still needed to go there. All of his things were there—if the Rutledges hadn’t gotten rid of them.
He needed to go. Find a cab. Go to the Rutledges.
Go.
Andrew’s feet didn’t move. They didn’t listen to the commands of his brain at all.
He couldn’t fucking move.
Helplessly, he looked back at Logan. He found Logan already looking at him over the shoulder of the woman hugging him.
Their gazes locked.
Andrew wasn’t sure what emotion was on his face, but Logan said something to his sisters and headed toward him.
Andrew watched him approach, still thrown off balance by how different Logan looked in clothes. This clean-shaven man in a sharp business suit looked nothing like the unshaven, half-naked guy Andrew had become… used to. It was disorienting.
“Going home?” Logan said, stopping a few feet away from him.
Andrew nodded, pursing his lips tightly.
Logan shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, his dark eyes unreadable. “See you around, then,” he said after a moment.
Andrew opened his mouth and then closed it without saying anything. There was nothing to say. He nodded.