Porter grabbed his phone and angrily scrolled through his alerts, not seeing anything from Gavin. Then onto Facebook, where he stalked Gavin’s profile.

  No new posts. Gavin hadn’t posted anything in over two weeks, and in the last four months, the only things he’d posted were landscapes, sunrises, and sunsets.

  They had a bunch of friends in common, and Gavin usually liked their posts. But he hadn’t done that lately, either.

  No activity on Twitter or Instagram, either, although Gavin rarely posted anything through those accounts.

  I shouldn’t let it bother me.

  But it bothered him. Because it felt like there was something there he was missing, something deeper.

  He despised that feeling because the last time he ignored it someone he’d loved ended up dead.

  * * * *

  By eight a.m., it was obvious to Porter that he wasn’t going back to sleep. Now grumpy and sleep-deprived on top of feeling aggravated, he pulled on a T-shirt and shorts, grabbed his wallet and phone, and headed downstairs to the hotel’s restaurant. He didn’t feel like leaving the property yet, but if his foul mood didn’t improve soon, he’d probably end up heading home early.

  He settled at a table in the corner by himself and was perusing the menu when he realized someone was standing right next to him. He looked up into the hazel eyes, wide smile, and frosted bottle-blond tips of Jayce Dugger.

  “Hey,” Jayce said. “Great to see you here. I saw on Facebook you’d marked yourself as going this weekend. Looked around for you last night, but didn’t see you.”

  “I was tired,” Porter said, sitting back in his chair. “Called it an early night.” He’d also been avoiding the fucker ever since catching a glimpse of him yesterday afternoon not long after Porter had checked in.

  “Can I?” Jayce pointed at the empty chair on the other side of the table.

  Porter nodded only because he really didn’t have the strength, brain cells, or enough coffee in him yet to come up with a good reason why to not let the twink join him.

  The only reason he tolerated Jayce in the first place was because he was a friend of Gavin’s. He’d played with the guy once, several months back, after Gavin had put in the request on Jayce’s behalf. Just play, no sex.

  Jayce had wanted sex, but Porter had said no, even after Jayce reportedly asked Gavin if he’d mind and Gavin supposedly told him no, it was fine.

  Which, frankly, he wasn’t sure he believed Jayce on that, but he hadn’t asked Gavin to confirm it because he was never going to fuck Jayce anyway. There wasn’t enough money in the world for him to fuck Jayce.

  Sex with Jayce would be the biological equivalent of using his dick as a swizzle stick in an overfull spittoon, and he had no desire to do that, either. Had he known what an absolute sloppy whore Jayce was to start with, he wouldn’t have even played with him.

  It was only after a couple of friends of Porter’s came to him later to tell him Jayce had raved about playing with him, and was asking for advice on how to convince him to do more with him, that Porter had learned about the guy’s less-than-stellar track record.

  “So are you here all weekend, Sir?” Jayce asked with a cocky, lopsided smile.

  Something about the way he said the last word grated on Porter’s nerves in a way it usually wouldn’t if anyone else said it. Like it wasn’t casual on Jayce’s part, and that pissed him off. Normally, he didn’t care if guys he wasn’t in a dynamic with called him “Sir.”

  Porter looked down at his menu. “I’m not your ‘Sir’, Jayce. So don’t call me that.” Fortunately, the waitress took that moment to appear.

  “Have you gentlemen decided what you’re going to have yet?”

  “Yeah,” Porter said. “And separate checks.” He spotted the way Jayce’s lips pursed into a tense frown for a second before relaxing. “Coffee, three-cheese omelet, home fries, whole wheat toast with butter, and turkey sausage, thanks.” He handed her the menu.

  “And you, sir?” she asked Jayce.

  Jayce’s smile looked less than perfect. “Nothing for me, thanks. We’re just chatting.”

  He’s broke. Porter didn’t need to be a psychic to read the signs. He’d had his fair share of twinks try to scam money or meals out of him over the years. He didn’t mind paying for Gavin’s meals when they were together, because Gavin did his fair share of cooking for them, or doing other things that more than balanced it out. Besides, he and Gavin were friends first and actually had a fucking relationship.

  But a little random shit like this? Friend of Gavin’s notwithstanding?

  No fucking way.

  Once the waitress departed, Porter pulled out his phone and started scrolling through it so he didn’t have to look at Jayce.

  Then he had a thought. If the twink was going to irritate him this morning, he would at least use Jayce to his advantage.

  “Chat with Gavin lately?” Porter asked.

  “Oh, not much. I guess he’s really busy.”

  But Porter glanced at him without moving his head. Jayce was staring at the tabletop and playing with the place setting in front of him.

  He’s lying.

  Porter was not one to air his dirty laundry anywhere. If he asked Jayce outright and told him why he wanted to know more about Gavin, everyone in the whole goddamned resort would know about it by lunch.

  And, no doubt sensing relationship tension, Jayce would focus his sights on him even more than Porter already knew they were.

  “That’s what Gav told me,” Porter said. It wasn’t even a lie, because he just didn’t elaborate when Gavin had told him that.

  Jayce leaned in, arms crossed on the table in front of him and wearing what Porter was pretty sure Jayce thought was a sexy look. “Listen, if you’re not busy tonight, I was hoping for a repeat of last time we played.” He smiled and actually batted his fucking eyelashes at Porter.

  What is he, fifteen? Sheesh.

  He damn sure acted like it, another turn-off for Porter. The guy was in his early thirties but he was one of those pathetic kind of guys who were as shallow as a parking lot puddle, who refused to age gracefully and admit he wasn’t a hot, tight twenty-one-year-old anymore. Porter wasn’t even sure why Gavin considered Jayce a friend, but he didn’t control who Gavin’s friends were, just like Gavin didn’t control him or his.

  Although in this case, I’d make an exception.

  Except…that was starting to feel like it wouldn’t happen again.

  Ever.

  Porter focused on his phone again. “No.”

  “What?”

  “No.” The waitress brought Porter his coffee. He thanked her before picking up the cup and sipping it.

  “But…I really had fun last time we played,” Jayce said, desperation clinging to his tone like radioactive kudzu.

  “I’m glad you did,” Porter said, dialing back his bluntness by a point or two. “But I’m not interested in playing with you again. I only played with you as a favor to Gavin.”

  That was the absolute truth. If it hadn’t been for Gavin asking Porter for Jayce, Porter never would have agreed to play with the guy. He wasn’t attracted to him.

  Did Porter like twinks? Uh, duh. He liked a lot of different types, but it was the person, not the type he was attracted to, and he was not attracted to Jayce. Not even in the slightest.

  Another reason he’d refused to have sex with the guy.

  There was no response for a long while, so Porter glanced up to see the shock painted on Jayce’s expression.

  Porter didn’t respond, though, and would force Jayce to make the next move. Porter wasn’t into giving fake or proactive apologies. He felt no need to soften the blow beyond his polite explanation. He’d been brushing Jayce off for the past several months, ever since playing with him that one night, yet it was obvious that subtlety was not working or penetrating that bubble head of his.

  If the guy couldn’t take a polite hint, then it was time to break out blunt honesty.

  “Well…what would it take to convince you to play with me again?” Now Jayce’s tone swung hard into whining territory, and that was an absolute hard turn-off for Porter when it came to being outside a scene.

  Especially if he’d said no already.

  If he hadn’t yet turned the guy down, or still had any lingering doubts, that would have made up his mind for him.

  Porter sighed and shook his head. When he spoke, he dropped his voice so it wouldn’t carry. “Red, Jayce. I’ve been nice to you over the past several months, and you’re not taking a hint. I’m not playing with you again. Period. Done. Red. Stop it.”

  A frown furrowed Jayce’s brow as his tone swung into indignant. “You can’t safeword! You’re a Top! And we’re not scening right now.”

  “For starters, yes, a Top can safeword. Secondly, doesn’t matter that we’re not scening. You’re not respecting my boundaries. If I hadn’t made up my mind about not playing with you again, that damn sure would’ve made it up for me. You need to leave—we’re done here. Now.”

  Jayce glanced around, as if to check to see whether or not he had an audience, but fortunately there weren’t any other patrons seated close enough to make it worth the effort.

  Porter waggled his fingers at him in a shooing gesture.

  Finally, Jayce shoved his chair back and left. Not quite the melodramatic flounce he suspected Jayce was looking for, but at least Porter could relax now.

  He sat back to sip his coffee while he continued scrolling through his phone.

  Goddammit.

  Unfortunately, the encounter had made the decision for him about something else—his mood was officially in the shitter, with no hope of improving anytime soon. Once he finished breakfast, he’d pack and check out. He’d be able to leave before check-out time. Maybe they’d give him a refund for that night’s stay. If not?

  Still worth it.

  But his mood for the weekend was totally shot now, and no way did he want to stay here if Jayce was prowling around. While he was thinking about it, he went on Facebook and blocked Jayce. He hadn’t been friends with him on there anyway.

  That’s the last time I mark myself going to an event on Facebook.

  Chapter Four

  Saturday morning, Gavin lay in bed in Kent’s guest room and stared up at the ceiling. It was a little after nine a.m. and he’d slept like utter crap.

  Porter was probably still asleep in his room at the Toucan after having done who knows what overnight. Emphasis on the who.

  Oh, I can guess who he did.

  Because Jayce had marked that he was going on the Facebook event, too. Gavin had looked.

  Jayce can have him.

  If only it didn’t sting so fucking much.

  Then the bastard has the audacity to call me a couple of weeks ago and ask me if there was something wrong?

  For a moment, Kent’s advice to talk to Porter came to mind, and doubts flittered in.

  No. Fuck that. He wasn’t going to drive himself crazy trying to decipher Porter’s motivation here. Porter was the one who always made a big deal about honesty, accountability, not playing mind-games.

  About being an adult and acting like one.

  He knew Porter was still in some ways mourning Dane, even though that’d been almost nine years ago, and a couple of years before the two of them had moved from best friends to friends with bennies. But whether or not Porter consciously saw it in himself, Gavin did.

  Porter’s need to be a fixer. It wasn’t just something Porter did as a job repairing airplanes.

  He had a tendency to want to step in and fix those he cared about.

  Maybe he thinks he can help Jayce or something.

  Except it’d be nice if he was the one Porter would think about focusing on, for a change.

  Why didn’t I just confront him?

  Because he’d been down in Costa Rica, that’s why. What good was it being lied to on the phone and assured nothing was going on, just to get home to find out no, he was a gullible jerk? Again?

  Because that’s exactly what would’ve happened, right?

  That’s what he consoled himself with.

  He rolled onto his side and closed his eyes to try to go back to sleep but realized that likely wasn’t going to happen.

  All he could think about were the times they’d gone to the Toucan together for weekend fun. In the early days it was frequently sexy fun with each other and with others, but had gradually morphed into play and sometimes blowjobs with others but only sex with each other. Then, in the months before Gavin decided to take the job and leave, it’d been play with others occasionally, and only sex with each other.

  Gavin didn’t give a shit about play with others. That didn’t bother him. Hell, blow jobs really didn’t bother him, either, especially if they happened during a scene.

  Unless it’s a walking petri dish like Jayce.

  After a while, he smelled coffee brewing and opted to get up and shower. There was supposed to be another party tonight at Kent’s, and he’d been invited to spend the whole weekend with the men, but he knew he couldn’t.

  He wouldn’t be in any better mood tonight than he was last night.

  Once he was dressed and had packed his shit, he headed out to the kitchen to find the three men there, Kent and Paul at the table, and Tim, naked except for an apron and leather collar, cooking breakfast.

  “There he is,” Kent said. “Feeling any better?”

  He headed over to the coffeemaker, where Tim handed him an empty mug. “Not really, no.”

  “You up for some unsolicited advice?” Paul asked.

  “Sure. Hit me.”

  “Call the guy and talk to him. Ask him what the fuck? If nothing else, to bitch him the fuck out and give yourself closure.”

  “Why? Especially if he’s just going to gaslight me.”

  “You don’t know that,” Paul insisted. “Honestly? If the guy’s been pretty direct all this time you’ve known him, have you thought Jayce might be bullshitting you?”

  Gavin turned. “Why would he do that? He has no reason to.”

  Kent arched an eyebrow at him in a way which reminded him so painfully of Porter that his guts clenched and a sharp, piercing pang lanced his soul. “Maybe he’s got his eyes on your guy. What better way to get him than to salt some bullshit around?”

  “But he’s my friend.”

  “Who’ve you known longer?” Kent countered.

  “Well, Porter, a little longer, but—”

  Paul snorted. “Dude. Seriously? You need to talk to Porter.”

  “Look, I’ve survived dating one gaslighting asshole in my life and that was enough. That’s in addition to bullshit I went through growing up. I survived having a narcissist as a dad, and the gaslighting I endured from him could help me make five therapists rich.

  “Geoff, the guy I was dating when Porter and I first met as friends? He led me around and bullshitted me and cheated on me. I didn’t think anything was wrong then, until friends finally started telling me because they were worried the guy might end up giving me something.”

  “Well, has anyone else said anything to you about Porter and Jayce being together?” Kent asked.

  “I mean, I know that they played. Hell, Jayce asked me to ask Porter for him, and I said sure. But Porter’s the kind of guy who doesn’t advertise his shit. That’s one of the things I love about him, that he’s averse to drama. At least, I thought he was.”

  Kent and Paul exchanged a knowing look before Paul focused on him again. He motioned between him and Kent. “We nearly fucked up epically because we didn’t communicate clearly due to our own personal baggage. Taught us both a damned valuable lesson.”

  “Amen,” Kent said before sipping his coffee.

  “And,” Paul continued, “it taught us to fucking admit shit. Even if it’s stupid shit. Communicate. If you can’t do that? Honestly? You don’t belong in a relationship with anyone.”

  Gavin bristled at that. “Why the hell hasn’t he communicated with me, then?”

  “Because,” Kent said, “maybe there’s nothing to communicate because Jayce is blowing smoke up your ass. Guy doesn’t sound like someone worth putting your faith in, from what you’ve said.”

  Gavin leaned back against the counter to sip his coffee, both hands wrapped around the mug.

  Tim and Paul both stared at him, too.

  “What?”

  “At the very least,” Kent said, “do the adult thing and tell Porter you’re back and say look, I’m done. If you don’t want to explain why, okay, fair enough. But don’t pull this chickenshit garbage. That puts you down at his level, if he’s even bullshitting you in the first place.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  Kent sighed. “I think you’re making a mistake, because I can already tell you don’t want to and will avoid that confrontation, but whatever. You’re an adult.”

  But it was Kent’s words still echoing through Gavin’s brains an hour later as he headed north toward his apartment complex on the northern side of Sarasota. Gavin now worked for Addleson Aviation, a company based out of SRQ, also known as Sarasota-Bradenton International. The company’s focus was on helicopter repairs, maintenance, and inspection, with a side business of contracting for aerial photography and surveys.

  Upon his return to the States two weeks ago, Gavin had bought a good used pick-up truck, rented a U-Haul, and moved his shit out of the storage unit in Lakeland where Porter had helped him store everything. Before going to Costa Rica, he’d sold most of his furniture, like the couch, bed, and kitchen table. Stuff he didn’t want to pay to store. He knew he could order new IKEA stuff when he returned and have it shipped to wherever he ended up moving.