If he even needed it, because he’d be staying with Porter, at first.

  Or, that had been the plan.

  Part of him hoped Porter would ask him to move in permanently.

  It’d taken every ounce of self-control he’d had not to stop by Porter’s house and have it out with him then.

  Except he was afraid Porter might not be home alone, and catching him with someone would have been worse.

  Far worse.

  Especially if it was Jayce.

  Glad I didn’t take him up on his offer to use his garage now.

  That would’ve sucked.

  But he’d still cried, several times, as he loaded the boxes in the truck by himself, remembering the melancholy fun he’d had with Porter that afternoon as they’d filled the storage unit.

  Then they’d gone back to Porter’s house and made love all night and the next morning, spent most of the next day in bed, and then once more the day after that before Porter drove him up to TIA to catch his flight.

  Sitting with him in the main terminal before Gavin finally had to go to get through security.

  How Porter had kept his arm draped around his shoulders as they sat there, nuzzling Gavin’s head, the things they’d whispered to each other.

  How he’d begged Gavin to stay safe, and he hadn’t just meant sex.

  How he’d promised Gavin if he needed to break the contract and come home early, that he was welcomed to do so and stay with him as long as he needed.

  How he’d said he’d miss him.

  Fuck.

  Now he was crying again, sitting at a goddamned red light on US41 and blinking back tears. Tears that didn’t sting a fraction as badly as his memories and the pain they triggered. It sure had sounded, back then, like Porter had feelings for him.

  What if they’re right?

  Except they weren’t, because he’d been here before, survived a fucking cheat and a liar…

  But what if they were?

  He refused to think that.

  Last time he’d gone through this, he’d given Geoff more than one chance to hurt him, and it’d left his heart scorched and bleeding, his soul in tatters. It’d nearly destroyed him. Porter fucking knew that, too. It was one of the two big reasons why Gavin had kept things chill between them, took it slow. That, and Dane.

  Gavin had loved that Porter had been so understanding about that, too. Porter never pushed, ever.

  Gavin couldn’t go there again, though.

  Would not.

  He stopped by the grocery store on his way home and picked up stuff for dinner that night, including mint chocolate chip ice cream to drown his sorrows in instead of booze. He likely wouldn’t be called in that weekend for an emergency repair, but he didn’t want to risk it. He’d only been working there a week, and it’d really look bad if he was called in and couldn’t go because he was drunk.

  Once he was home and had unpacked his groceries, he found a bad B-movie marathon on SyFy and sat on his new IKEA couch while scrolling through Facebook.

  Of course he couldn’t resist looking at Jayce’s profile.

  The latest update had been posted just a few minutes earlier.

  Having a BANGING good weekend with my favorite Top and friends! ;)

  Another sharp tug on Gavin’s heart, and he angrily hit the unfriend button.

  Fucker.

  Ten minutes later, he had an alert from Messenger pop up on his phone.

  Jayce.

  Hey, why’d U unfriend me??? You know Porter’s here, too, right?

  He deleted the message, and then blocked him.

  Fuck you, asshole.

  Then again, it wasn’t Jayce’s fault. Not really. Jayce wasn’t the one he’d been in a relationship with.

  And he had told Jayce to do whatever he wanted with Porter.

  Fucker.

  He pulled up Porter’s profile, but of course there was nothing new there from the last twenty times he’d checked it over the past forty-eight hours. Porter really was…

  Hiding shit.

  He didn’t have the heart to unfriend and block Porter.

  He closed out the app, laid his phone facedown on the coffee table, then stretched out on his new sofa.

  He tried not to think about how he’d cried while assembling the scant furniture he now had, all ordered from IKEA, because he couldn’t bear the thought of walking through the store yet.

  He’d sat there in his living room the other night and sobbed his way through the assembly, wishing Porter was there.

  Call him. Have it out with him.

  But what good would that do? Either Porter would gaslight him, or, worse, he’d admit it and then it’d really be well and truly over between them.

  He was my best friend.

  Then again, Gavin knew he hadn’t been much of a friend lately, either. Once he’d reached Costa Rica he’d thrown himself into his work, six or seven days a week, sometimes, and little time to socialize. It wasn’t uncommon for him not to have Wi-Fi access in his down hours, and he wasn’t going to run up a shit-ton of cellular fees just for Facebook.

  Maybe Porter thought I was pulling back.

  No. No, he’d been down this road before. His ex had him thinking it was all his fault, and it was Porter—ironically—who’d helped him see the truth behind the lies.

  He’d grown up unable to trust his gut because of a gaslighting narcissist.

  It seemed he either fell hard for guys he had no business messing with, or who had the ability to totally rip his heart out.

  Considering what a hot mess his family of origin was, maybe it was time he admitted he wasn’t destined for a happily ever after of his own.

  Chapter Five

  Porter was on the road and heading home to Lakeland a little after nine that morning, well before most of the regulars at the resort were even conscious yet, much less able to inquire why he was leaving so soon.

  And without spotting Jayce Dugger again.

  Thank gawd.

  The resort even gave him a refund on the night’s fee, since it was supposed to be a busy weekend and they knew they could easily turn the room.

  On his way through Tampa he opted to jump off the Interstate at Ybor City to hit the IKEA store there. He hadn’t had time to go in a while. This was the perfect opportunity.

  Roaming through the place always soothed him, with its tidy displays and mellow atmosphere.

  I fucking miss him.

  This used to be their thing to do on a Sunday afternoon after leaving the Toucan, to stop here and peruse the displays, and then hit the grocery store section near the exit downstairs to stock up on cinnamon rolls that they swore every time they’d work off later that night in bed.

  And usually did.

  Fuck, I miss that guy. Why the hell did I let him go to Costa Rica?

  Then again, maybe Gavin had met someone else and was trying to figure out how to break it to him.

  It’d be less painful if Gavin would simply get it the hell over with and tell him. Like ripping off a bandage.

  It was nearly one in the afternoon by the time he pulled into his own driveway and unloaded the truck. He dumped his implement bag, which he hadn’t even unzipped that weekend, into the unused second bedroom and yanked the door shut harder than he intended.

  Fuck it.

  He was angry, he was lonely, and he wasn’t doing himself any good stomping around an empty house. Instead, he pulled on work clothes, grabbed his security badge and keys, and headed over to Lakeland Linder Airport.

  He was the head mechanic for Lakeland Wings Aviation, an aircraft repair and maintenance company operating out of LAL. He’d worked there for ten years now and it wasn’t the worst job in the world.

  Wasn’t his preferred location to live, because Lakeland wasn’t exactly the most liberal or progressive of places. But he hadn’t bothered trying to find a better job. They paid enough, it was inexpensive to live there, and he could easily drive an hour either way to Orlando or the Tampa Bay area for fun. Plus, finding a new job and moving was a pain in the fricking ass.

  It was the first job he’d taken after moving back from four years spent working in Puerto Rico. Which he’d done because of—

  Don’t think about Dane today.

  Man, he was really all up in his feelz this weekend. The double-whammy of seeing Ivan again, combined with thinking about Gav and what he was—or wasn’t—doing, had totally fucked him in the head.

  I need to work.

  At least if he was doing that he could take his mind off what was going on in his personal life.

  Or, rather, what wasn’t going on in his personal life.

  One of his guys was there doing a routine maintenance service on a Cessna that belonged to a regular private aviation customer who usually kept their plane at a smaller private airport in the area.

  “Hey, Mike,” Porter called out as he walked into the hangar.

  Mike was a father to three young kids, but he usually worked weekends and took Thursdays and Fridays off because of his wife’s work schedule, so they could have two days off together. Both sets of grandparents took turns watching the kids for them on weekends while they worked.

  He looked up as Porter walked over. “Thought you were out of town this weekend, boss?”

  “Me, too. Plans fell through. How we doing on this?”

  “I’ll be done by this afternoon and have it cleared.”

  “Excellent.” He headed into the office to complete a few reports before he got started on another maintenance job he could knock out by that evening. It’d free one of his guys for a more profitable repair job on Monday if he did, and the customer would be happy they could pick it up earlier than originally promised.

  As he sat there working, his cell rang. At first he didn’t plan to answer it, until he glanced at the screen and realized it was Kevin Axelrod. He’d known Kevin since they’d gone through training to become airplane mechanics, both of them just out of high school at the time. He hadn’t talked to him in over a year, though, now that he thought about it.

  He leaned back in his chair as he answered. “Hey, asshole. How’s it hanging?”

  Kevin laughed. “Hutchinson, you prick, you haven’t changed, have you?”

  Porter grinned. “I hope not. How you doing?”

  “Good…” They chatted for a couple of minutes, while Porter increasingly got the idea Kevin had called for a specific reason.

  That reason soon made itself apparent. “So, listen. How they treating you over there in Lakeland?”

  “‘Over there’? I thought you were working up in Ohio?”

  “Well, that’s why I called. I’m back in Florida now…”

  By the time Porter got off the phone with him nearly an hour later, he had a lot to think about.

  A lot.

  Like the fact that they offered to pay him twenty grand a year over what he was currently making, and better health insurance, to move over to Sarasota and go to work for Kevin. He was now the general manager for Sunbay Aviation in Sarasota. One of the first things Kevin wanted to do was fire their current head mechanic, who was apparently a lazy screwup and counting on job security to keep his position.

  Porter had more certifications than the guy had, too, another reason Kevin wanted him.

  And Kevin wanted him to drive over, right now, and have dinner with him and the company’s owner to talk more in-depth. Guaranteed five-year contract if he’d come work for them, including a payout if they had to let him go before then.

  Hmm.

  So instead of knocking out that maintenance job he was going to handle, he wrapped up his reports, told Mike he’d had yet another change in plans, and headed home to take a shower, shave, and dress nice.

  He could dress up when he wanted to or had a reason to. He didn’t often have a reason to wear something other than jeans, though. Slacks, dress shirt, and a tie tonight.

  As he tied his tie in the bathroom mirror, he tried not to think about the night a week before Gav left, when he’d taken him over to Tampa, to a swanky steakhouse there. After, they’d gotten a hotel room, played, made love.

  Stop it. Stop thinking about him.

  His lease on the house renewed in three months. The owner had been making strong hints lately about selling to him, or selling it in general, but hadn’t yet given him an outright choice to make, or a deadline in which to make it.

  As he ran a comb through his black hair one more time, he was already pro-conning Kevin’s proposal when his cell rang in the bedroom, sending his heart skipping as he raced to answer it.

  An alarm tone followed by a computerized voice alerting, “Terrain! Terrain! Pull up!” An inside joke between him and Gav that had hauntingly seemed to come true when it came to their relationship.

  Gavin’s custom tone, the only contact he had set to use that.

  He grabbed his phone, his heart racing as he answered. “Hey.”

  * * * *

  Gavin swallowed hard. He’d actually dozed off and awoke from a nightmare where Porter was drowning, and he’d tried to reach out to save him, just to find out he’d had it backward. He was the one reaching out to Porter, begging him to pull him from the stormy sea.

  “Hey,” Gavin managed. “How are you?” This used to be easy, fun.

  This used to feel safe.

  Porter used to feel safe—his refuge from the world.

  “I’m…good. I’ve been thinking about you a lot. But you asked for space, so I didn’t want to push.”

  Gavin clamped down on the response he wanted to let fly—I just bet you’re thinking about me when you’re fucking Jayce.

  But he held that back. “Been thinking about you, too.” Gavin sucked in a breath and chickened out. “What’re you doing this weekend?” This would be the tell-tale.

  “I’m home right now but I’m getting ready to go have dinner with someone.”

  Fucker. Gavin licked his lips and was going to press forward and have this out, but Porter spoke again.

  “So, listen. I need to talk to you about your plans.”

  “Plans?”

  “Yeah. Looks like I’ve got an opportunity to make some big changes in my life, but I don’t want to make any final decisions until you and I can sit down and talk first. I know we left it that you’re going to move in with me, and—”

  “I’m not,” Gavin managed, his eyes dropping closed as he thought he might be sick. “Sorry.”

  There was a long pause that had him wondering if the call had dropped, or if Porter had hung up on him, until Porter spoke.

  “Oh. Okay.”

  Gavin’s eyes popped open. How dare that lying fucker have the goddamned balls to sound disappointed and even…hurt! “I’ve already got a job lined up,” he sort of fibbed. “Everything’s taken care of. I’ll be fine.”

  “Oh. Um…congratulations.”

  “Thanks.” He still didn’t know why Porter sounded fucking shell-shocked. “Just wanted to call you and tell you that. Guess that’s good timing for you, then.”

  “I-I guess so. Where are you wor—”

  “Listen, I won’t keep you from your da—”

  They both stopped talking, an uncomfortable pause swelling between them.

  Then, “What happened?” Porter asked.

  “What?”

  There was another pause, a breath. “What happened?” Porter quietly asked. “What happened to us? You’re my best friend. What happened?”

  It was all Gavin could do to hold back his bitter laugh. “I don’t think I need to tell you that.”

  “I wouldn’t be asking if I knew, Gav. You pulled away and I don’t know why. Can you at least tell me? If it’s something I did, tell me. Because I honestly don’t know what happened.”

  I can’t do this. If he was face-to-face with Porter, sure, he’d have it out with him. Guy didn’t have a poker face, and he’d be able to call his fucking bluff right there.

  But right now, on the phone, he couldn’t stay civil listening to Porter lie to him, which was totally fucked up to begin with. He thought Porter was better than that, had never known him to be like this before.

  Maybe Jayce has taught him a few tricks.

  Gavin knew the fucker was at the Toucan this weekend. He knew the fucker was with Jayce this weekend. Or, at least seeing Jayce there this weekend. For Porter to lie to him and tell him he was home, when Gavin damn well knew he wasn’t, was just…

  Fucked up.

  “It doesn’t matter anymore, Porter. I wanted to talk to you one more time and say good-bye. I’m going to be just fine, don’t worry.” He was barely able to keep from choking up as tears welled in his eyes. “Thanks for the fun, and no hard feelings. I wish you well.”

  “Gav—”

  Gavin clicked end, turned off his phone, rolled over on the couch, and started sobbing.

  * * * *

  Porter stared at his phone. It felt like he’d been nut-punched. He’d thought—had been certain that whatever was going on, he’d be able to talk to Gavin once he’d reached out and then he could clear the air between them.

  Fix them.

  He tried to call Gavin back and it went to voice mail immediately. He didn’t leave a message.

  And again.

  The third time, Porter left a message. “I don’t know what’s going on, Gav, but can we please talk about this? Please? I think we’ve known each other long enough that you owe me that. I can’t force you to talk, though, buddy. I’m going to leave it at my door’s always open, and I hope you reach out to me and talk to me when you’re ready.”

  Porter took a deep breath. “I love you, and I always will. If you never reach out to me, please know that I wish you well, and I’m always going to love you.” He hung up and stared at his phone.

  Well, I guess that helps with my decision-making.

  He stared at the pictures on his dresser. First the one of him and Dane, taken years ago in Puerto Rico, one of the rare times Dane had allowed himself to be vulnerable in public. They’d been sitting together on a bench at the beach, and a friend took it for them. Dane sat with Porter’s arm slung across the back of the bench, and he’d tucked his head, pressed it against Porter’s chin. You couldn’t see his eyes because of the sunglasses he wore.