"Fuck. It smells like something died in here." 

I waved my hand in front of my face, trying to spare my poor nose from the stench of the rotten food in my fridge. I really should have thrown this stuff out before I ran away to the cabin. Apparently, there were a lot of things I should have done before I went, while I was at, and after I left the fucking cabin. Oh, well. I didn't have the mental strength to deal with that right now. Right now...I was going to clean out my fridge. That I could handle. 

I left the door open while I knelt down in front of my kitchen sink to get trash bags and some cleaning supplies. I got here last last night and didn't do much besides crawl into bed. Well, I did text Amelia and Wyatt to let them know I was back. Wyatt tried calling me multiple times, but I sent another text letting him know I would talk to him today. I also promised to call my mother. Now that I was back, I didn't have a choice. I knew Wyatt would find out if I didn't and he would show up here. 

My knees creaked as I straightened and walked back over to the fridge. I sat the cleaning supplies on the counter and opened a trash bag. "Okay. Where to begin?" I grabbed the old take-out containers from the middle shelf, not even daring to look inside. I've been gone for almost two weeks. I would be surprised if there was anything left in here that was edible at all. 

What was Grant doing? Fuck. No, Logan. You kind of burned that bridge, remember? Pretty sure it's ashes by now. I was still pissed that he made that call to Amelia without talking to me, but what I said and how I acted was no better. I wanted to go to him and apologize. But I had no idea where he was staying. I didn't know if he was still with Vanessa—and if he was, where the hell did she live? I didn't want to call him. He deserved to get the apology in person. 

What if he didn't even want to talk to me? I was pretty clear when I said it was over. I even said that neither one of us would reach out to the other. What a mess—and I'm not talking about the fridge. The fridge was actually looking better. I filled up two trash bags and set them outside my front door. I got some paper towels and some Clorox spray and cleaned the inside. After wiping it down, I threw the dirty paper towels away and grabbed my house keys. 

I locked my apartment, grabbed the now full trash bags, and walked down the hallway to the dumpster that was at the end of my street. One benefit of living on the first floor was no stairs. On my way back, I couldn't help but think about what I was going to say to my mom. After I basically 'came out' to myself, I've felt differently. I've felt a wide range of emotions, actually. Scared. Sick. Scared, again. Mostly, it felt right. Once I said the words and accepted it, everything seemed...right. Of course, there was the little fact that I had been living a lie most of my life. 

That's the part that messed me up now. The first few hours before I got out of bed this morning were spent with me trying not to think about how different things would have been if I had accepted this sooner. There were a few times in high school that I found myself questioning my sexuality. I would see another a guy that I thought was attractive. But I was young then. I was even more terrified of being different than I was now. Being different in high school wasn't always a good thing.

But how different would my life have been? Would things between Grant and I have been different from the beginning? I thought back to the first time we kissed on my birthday in that club. I know he was the one who took off, but maybe if I had been different—if I knew who I was—I would have chased after him. Maybe we would have been together all this time. Christ, I don't know. 

Even if that were true, then that meant everything that's happened since would be different. All the good stuff that happened at the cabin, well...wouldn't have happened. Not in the same way. Great. Now I was even more frustrated than before. I pulled my keys out of my pocket and went back inside my apartment. I went to my now clean fridge and reached for a beer. 

I hesitated before pulling the bottle of Stella from the fridge. I drank way too much at that cabin. If I wanted to start getting my life together, I needed to slow down with the drinking. Instead of the deer, I grabbed the jug of orange juice I picked up on the way home. Hell, I even pulled out the eggs, too. I needed a good breakfast. When I started making scrambled eggs, I thought back to that morning...

"Good morning, sunshine."

I got to my knees in the bed when I heard Grant come into the room. The sheet fell down my body, leaving me naked under his wandering gaze. "Good morning, yourself."

He sat the plate of food on the bedside table and looked back at me. "How did you sleep?"

I made a sound that was similar to a laugh and a groan. "Good, actually. Better than I have in awhile. You?"

He gave me a sexy smirk that had me aching to kiss him. "Pretty good." He gestured to the food on the bedside table. "I made you breakfast."

I didn't bother looking at the food. I kept my eyes on Grant. "I see that."

He was wearing a pair of sweats with no shirt. His blonde hair was brushed to the side like it always was. I pulled him closer and gave him a slow kiss. It wasn't a deep and passionate one like we shared last night. No. This one was more of a thank you.

"What was that for?" he asked when I pulled away.

Instead of answering, I glanced at the plate he brought me. There was an omelet, some strips of bacon, and a piece of toast. "I didn't know you could cook."

Grant laughed a little and ran his hand through his hair. Was he...embarrassed? "Yeah, well, I never had occasion before..." 

I pushed the memory aside as I turned off the stove and slid the finished scrambled eggs onto a plate. I grabbed the orange juice and my plate and went to my dining room table. I tried not to think about a certain blond while I ate my food. It was hard, though. I still don't feel like he and I had a real shot at the whole relationship thing. We were hiding out at the cabin. That's exactly what we were doing. Hiding. As amazing as it was, it wasn't what I wanted. Deep down, I wanted more. 

I sat my fork down on my empty plate and pushed it aside. I glanced to the right where my phone was sitting. "Fuck it," I mumbled. I needed to get this over with. I grabbed my phone and dialed my mom's number. 

I put my phone to the ear and she picked up on the first ring. "Logan? Oh my—where have you been? I've been so worried about you!"

My eyes slid shut. I could hear tell how true that was by her tone and I cursed myself. I should have called her before I even left to go to the cabin.

"Mom, hey. Look, I'm really sorry. I needed some time to myself for a little while. I'm...kind of going through some stuff." 

"What kind of stuff? Why didn't you call?" She hesitated and I knew she probably had her hand on her hip. "You should be ashamed of yourse—you know what?" I heard the sound of keys jingling. "I'm coming to your apartment now."

"What! Mom, no. Please." I pinched the bridge of my nose. "I'm sorry. Can I just have a few days to sort stuff out? I promise I'm not going anywhere where you can't get ahold of me, okay? We can—how about lunch soon?"

"Fine," she said, her words laced with motherly disappointment. "But if you take off again without calling me, Logan Thorne, then you are going to be in serious trouble. Do you hear me? Just because you're grown doesn't mean I'm not your mother anymore."

"Yes, ma'am. I understand." 

"Good." Her voice softened. "I love you and I worry about you sometimes. I just want you happy, baby." 

Funny, me too. "Thanks, mom. I love you, too. Talk to you later?" 

"Sounds good, sweetheart. Get some rest."

I hung up my phone and dropped my head onto my dining room table. That went better than I thought. Then again, she doesn't know my dirty little secret. Okay, it's not really a dirty little secret, but it's a secret nonetheless. I needed to tell her. I needed to tell both of my parents that I was gay. Let's not forget about the cancelled wedding. Then there was Wyatt. I needed to talk to him face-to-face. But I was still pissed at him over the whole Amelia thing. 

"Make love to me, Logan..." God. I missed Grant. I really, really, fucking missed him. This gave a whole new meaning to the term heartbroken. I felt like I was stuck in a never-ending heart attack. The pain just wouldn't go away. 

Before I realized what I was doing, I reached for my cell phone, dialed his number, and put it to my ear. 

"Hey, you've reached Grant. Leave a message and I might call you back." 

My eyes slid shut when I heard his voice. "Hey." Fuck my voice was scratchy as hell. I cleared my throat before I continued. "It's me. Obviously. Um, I—uh, I want to say that I'm so sorry. Shit. I shouldn't be saying this over the phone, but I don't know where you are. Can we meet? Talk?" I exhaled a shaky breath. "I miss you. And I'm sorry. Please, Grant, call me when you get this. But if you don't...I'll—yeah. I get it."

I hung up the phone and threw it on my couch. He wasn't going to call. I didn't know how I knew; I just did. I got up from the table, put my dishes in the sink, and went to my room to shower. Maybe this was for the best. Grant and I have hurt each other enough. Maybe I was right to push him away this time.

Maybe we really weren't meant for each other.