They stared at each other some more.
Behind Logan, someone cleared their throat. “You must be Andrew! I’m Alice, Logan’s sister.”
Andrew tried not to flinch. He forced a smile and said something to the young woman who hooked her arm with Logan’s. She smiled and said something back. Andrew said something again. Small talk. They were making small talk. It was bizarre, after months of barely speaking. He thought he’d even managed to make some jokes, but he wasn’t sure. Everything felt too much and somehow not real enough at the same time. It all felt like a dream, Logan’s unreadable face the only thing in focus.
Somehow, Andrew ended up letting Alice and Kate—the other sister—talk him into dropping him off at the Rutledges’ place. He climbed into the backseat of Kate’s car and sat down next to Logan while Alice took the front passenger seat.
The sisters talked non-stop the entire ride about everything and nothing, catching Logan up with the lives of their relatives and mutual acquaintances. It flew right over Andrew’s head.
He couldn’t focus.
All he could think about was the warmth of Logan’s body next to his and the inch that separated their knees.
It had been three days since they’d been this close. Not since the island.
Andrew clenched his jaw. Why was he even thinking about this? It was over. Whatever madness—whatever sickness—had possessed him on the island was gone now that they were back to their real lives. He was glad he could return to his normal life. A life without Logan. He was fucking ecstatic.
Logan tapped him on his knee with his fingers.
Andrew stiffened, his heart jumping into his throat. He turned his head to Logan. What? He was disgusted that he didn’t even need to say that for Logan to understand him. It seemed the past few days hadn’t been enough for them to lose the near-telepathy they’d developed on the island.
Logan cocked his head to the side slightly, his dark eyes questioning. You okay?
Pressing his lips together, Andrew gave a clipped nod. The place where Logan’s fingers were touching him was burning. Or at least it felt like it.
Logan studied him for a moment, a wrinkle between his dark brows. “You just look like you’re going to be sick.”
“I’m not going to be sick,” Andrew said unconvincingly, dropping his eyes. His gaze settled on the V of Logan’s legs, on the outline of his cock, and his mouth suddenly filled with saliva. God, he’d give anything to have that cock in his mouth right now—the comforting hardness, girth, and warmth of it, moving in his mouth, using him, how good it felt to be just a vessel for it, a—
“Andrew,” Logan ground out.
He snapped his gaze up—and encountered a pinched, annoyed expression on Logan’s face.
Logan glared at him.
His face hot, Andrew glared back. What?
“Andrew?” Alice said. “We’re almost there, I think.”
Wrenching his gaze away from Logan, Andrew looked out the window and stared at the handsome mansion they were approaching. The gates were open—so the Rutledges hadn’t forgotten about his arrival, after all—and the car stopped in front of the house.
“Thanks,” Andrew managed.
Kate smiled at him kindly. “You’re very welcome! It’s the least we could do to thank you for keeping our brother company on that godforsaken island.”
Alice chuckled. “Consider it an apology,” she said with a teasing smile at her brother. “He must have been insufferable.”
Andrew smiled wanly. “Oh, absolutely,” he said. “Thanks. See you.”
He opened the door and all but stumbled out of the car. He took his bag out of the trunk and then stood there, rooted to the spot, as the car took off.
Something twisted his insides into a hard knot as the car disappeared out of sight. He took a deep breath, then another, trying to get rid of the tight feeling in his chest. He wasn’t going to panic. He wasn’t on the island anymore. He didn’t need Logan. He was fine.
He was fine.
Andrew turned around and stared at the mansion. He’d expected to feel some kind of relief at seeing it. It had been his home for nine years. But all he felt was a sense of loss and dread. How could he enter it without Vivian? It felt like he had no right to do it.
He was being stupid. The Rutledges might not like him much, but they weren’t senseless or cruel.
Andrew forced himself to move.
Every step made the ball of anxiety in his chest tighten and harden until he felt nearly sick with it. His heart beat hard against his ribcage, so fast that he felt nearly dizzy. Was he having a panic attack?
At last, after what felt like forever, he reached the front door.
It opened.
It was a butler. Andrew didn’t recognize him. He must have been new, but it seemed he had been warned about Andrew.
He followed the butler to the living room. Andrew wanted to tell him that he knew the way, but then he thought better of it. It wasn’t like it was his home anymore.
As soon as he entered the room, Derek Rutledge’s dark eyes met his.
Andrew swallowed, acutely aware of the empty space beside him where Vivian would have been. Should have been.
“Welcome back,” Derek said curtly before turning and walking out of the room.
Shawn, Derek’s husband, winced a little. “Don’t take it personally,” he said. “We’re glad you’re alive. Derek…Vivian’s death hit him hard. When we got the news that a few people survived the crash after all and you were one of the survivors…” He shrugged, an uncomfortable look crossing his face. “Derek didn’t really talk about it, but I think he got his hopes up that Vivian might be alive. And now he has to grieve her again, in a way.”
Andrew gave a clipped nod. “It’s fine. I understand.”
A strained silence descended upon the room.
He and Shawn had never really gotten along. They’d gotten off to a bad start—Andrew hadn’t managed to hold his tongue and had publicly insulted him—and it always seemed to taint their interactions, no matter how many years had passed since then. Andrew didn’t know what to do about it. Vivian had always urged him to talk to Shawn and clear the air between them, but Andrew didn’t want to. He’d always been bad at talking about his mistakes, and it wasn’t as though he’d been entirely wrong about Shawn—the guy had clearly been sleeping with Derek because of his money at the time. It didn’t matter that they were in love with each other now—Andrew had been right, dammit.
“Anyway,” Shawn said, finally breaking the awkward silence. “You’re probably tired after the flight. Take a nap if you want. We’ll have dinner later.”
Andrew looked away. “I’m not staying,” he said. “I’ll pack my things and will be out of your hair in a few hours.”
Silence.
“Oh,” Shawn said. “Okay, then.”
Andrew pursed his lips, hating that a part of him wanted the Rutledges—someone, anyone—to say that they wanted him to stay. Or stay for him.
Stupid. Fucking pathetic.
He turned to head upstairs when a thought stopped him. “Who’s been doing my job while I was presumed dead?” He hoped it wasn’t his brother-in-law. Derek might be highly intelligent—he was a professor at Harvard—but he had no idea how to run a company like Rutledge Enterprises.