How many times they’d slipped away from work together at lunch, come back here, and had a quick fuck because they’d both been so horny they could barely see straight.

  Maybe he thinks I took him for granted.

  Maybe I did.

  Gavin had been in his life for so long Porter had just…always assumed Gavin would be. That it’d be a natural progression. That once Gavin returned from Costa Rica, they’d end up together.

  That’ll teach me.

  * * * *

  Porter allowed himself a pity party that night. He stopped on his way home from work and bought moving boxes and tape. Fortunately, he wasn’t a packrat. One of the things he’d carried with him after his time living with Dane in Puerto Rico. Learning to treasure people, not things.

  Except apparently he failed in that with Gavin.

  He allowed himself permission to cry that night, too. As he started packing stuff from the kitchen, remembering afternoons spent at IKEA finding pans or whatever Gavin needed for a recipe he wanted to experiment with.

  The Deadpool coffee mug Gavin had given him the previous Christmas, before he’d even heard about the job in Costa Rica. A mug Porter still used every morning because it made him smile.

  How he’d hoped last Christmas would be the only Christmas they’d spend apart again after several years of spending Christmas together. Neither of them had spent it with family. Gavin by his choice…and Porter by his family’s choice.

  Fuck.

  He wasn’t sure when, exactly, he’d move. He needed to find a place first and talk to his landlord about getting his deposit back.

  First, he needed to get a grip on his emotions. He felt raw, shell-shocked.

  Devastated.

  It still hadn’t quite sunk in yet he likely would never see Gavin again. Hell, he had no idea where the man’s new job was.

  Porter also had the better part of a year of hopes he’d now have to shelve.

  Dreams he’d made.

  He’d even thought about taking Gavin over to the beach after returned from Costa Rica, proposing at sunset, the whole fucking, sappy thing.

  That’ll teach me, too, I guess.

  Far better this, though, than breaking into his apartment to find him hanging in his closet and dead for the better part of a day.

  He’d take this alternative any day. There was no universe in which he wanted Gavin dead. Even if things weren’t reparable between them, the world was absolutely a better place with Gavin in it.

  * * * *

  Porter’s last day at Lakeland Wings Aviation, everyone threw him a going away party, with cake and everything. Mike was probably going to get his job, at least on a trial basis to see how he handled the additional responsibilities.

  Porter managed to hold back his tears until he returned to the house that evening. He was mostly packed and had filled the garage with boxes in preparation for moving on Sunday.

  The previous Saturday, he’d texted Ron, who’d surprisingly called him back shortly after, and they’d had a nice talk.

  While they did, Porter confided in him, alluding to his current situation and the limbo he found himself in relationship-wise, along with his change in jobs and location.

  The man had once again been very nice, friendly. Had even invited him to attend a munch with them the next evening.

  And Porter went, after spending the afternoon in Sarasota scouting out apartments.

  Porter hadn’t met anyone at the munch who’d be a potential relationship match, but as far as future friendship, everyone had seemed wonderful. Like an extended family welcoming him home to the fold.

  He’d never felt like that before.

  Ever.

  Already, he felt like he was forming new roots, stronger ones. Like maybe this would eventually be okay and for the best. He’d had some friends in Lakeland, but most of them were in some way affiliated with the airport or with work, and most of them didn’t even know he was gay. All their kinky friends had been in Orlando or Tampa or St. Pete.

  Now? It looked like he might be able to make kinky friends right there in Sarasota. That was pretty typical in Florida, too. A lot of the coastal areas were more liberal—or, at least, more accepting—than many of the inland areas. Orlando notwithstanding, since it was such a huge tourist region.

  It’d be nice to feel like he could go out and be himself. Not that he had plans to march down the middle of downtown Sarasota in assless chaps and a chest harness or anything, but it’d be nice to be able to go out on a date and not worry about every little innocent PDA between him and another guy.

  Who am I kidding? Like I’ll be dating anytime soon.

  Gavin still hadn’t called him back. Porter knew better than to hold on to hope. He’d need to figure out how to move on, somehow.

  Gavin wasn’t posting anything on social media, though. At least he hadn’t blocked Porter, or even unfriended him. Porter suspected it wasn’t a case of Gavin posting stuff on Facebook set so he couldn’t see it, because none of his friends had mentioned anything to him about it. They had dozens of friends in common. Certainly one of them would have said something.

  * * * *

  The next Sunday evening, Porter sat on his couch in his new efficiency apartment and stared at the boxes lining the walls of the living room.

  Eh, dining room. Or…kitchen?

  Correction—bedroom.

  Answer D—all of the above.

  This sucks.

  Not that he could go back and undo any of this, but he’d long had it in his mind if he moved anytime soon, it’d be because he and Gavin bought a house together and were moving into it.

  Together.

  Not…this.

  Not this loneliness and pain.

  He still didn’t know what the hell he did wrong, but it was obvious from Gavin’s last words to him that he damn sure thought Porter did something wrong.

  He’d thought about e-mailing him, but wasn’t that just pushing and forcing himself onto the guy after telling him he’d go away?

  At least he’d confirmed the bad feeling in his gut had been dead-on.

  Again.

  Unfortunately.

  Hopefully this time it wouldn’t mean something as tragic as a death.

  Well, the death of their relationship, but not a literal death the way it’d been with Dane.

  It wasn’t even a point of pride, of wanting to “clear his rep” with Gav.

  He just wanted to know what he’d done that’d been so horrible Gavin would cut him off like this after ten fricking years. He’d wondered if it had something to do with Jayce, but that’d be stupid. Gavin had been the one to ask him for Jayce about playing. And it wasn’t like he’d fucked the guy.

  Gavin wouldn’t be so petty as to hold playing with Jayce against him…would he?

  No, he couldn’t believe that. That’d be completely unlike Gavin.

  Tomorrow would be his first official day at his new job. He could’ve taken a week off to get settled, but…why?

  It was just him now. He had his clothes and what little kitchen stuff he’d need to get by.

  He had a storage unit nearby holding what wouldn’t fit in this unit. It was an older apartment complex, and his building was in a one-story section, nothing but studios. Only fifteen minutes from work.

  More than enough for what he needed, for now. A bed, a dry roof over his head, a kitchen, and a working bathroom. He was saving over four hundred a month on rent, even with the extra cost of the storage unit.

  That was money going straight into his savings account right now. Plus he was saving on the power bill, maintenance, and the water bill was included in his rent.

  He didn’t want to take time off from work right now. Not a whole fricking week. He wanted to dig in, keep his mind and hands busy, and earn a living.

  Ron had invited him to come over to their home one evening this week, Porter’s choice when, and meet a few friends of theirs from the matchmaking squad. Porter was still contemplating taking him up on that.

  It’d be a nice little bit of synergy if losing Gavin and Ivan led him to being introduced to someone who finally ended up becoming his forever guy.

  Dammit, Dane. Why didn’t you let me help you? Why didn’t you let me love you?

  At least Porter felt exhausted when he collapsed for the night.

  The only problem then was his dreams…

  Chapter Eight

  Twelve years ago…

  “I’m sick of this place.”

  Porter looked over to where Dane stood to see him staring out the back window of their apartment. Water sluiced down the overhangs from the afternoon thunderstorm that had shut them down for the day at work. With more storms forecast, they’d all come home.

  They’d moved in together two years ago to save money, just weeks after Porter first arrived in Puerto Rico and started working for the same aviation company where Dane already worked. Porter thought it was one of his better life choices.

  “I thought you loved it here?” Porter asked.

  “I do.” Dane wore a playful smile as he glanced over his shoulder at Porter. “I hate the storms.” His blue eyes always bore more than a hint of sadness Porter never could completely expunge, no matter how hard he tried over the past couple of years.

  And oh, how he’d tried.

  Porter walked over and slipped his arms around Dane’s waist from behind, waiting until Dane leaned back against him to tighten his embrace and nuzzle the back of his neck.

  So much of what they did together was a delicate dance. They were friends first, even though Porter had felt attracted to him from the first moment he laid eyes on Dane, even before he knew for sure Dane was gay.

  But…

  Where Porter was six-three and beefy, Dane was only five-six and slender, far stronger than he looked, though. Physically.

  Emotionally, however…

  Porter suspected another reason Dane brought up moving in together, once they’d gone out a couple of times, was his nightmares.

  The first night Porter awakened to find Dane trembling and curled in a tight ball next to him in his bed, covered in sweat despite the AC and fans keeping the place comfortably cool, he instinctively realized that it probably had something to do with the scars he’d seen on Dane’s legs and arms.

  That’d happened on day four of them living together.

  So he’d rolled over, wrapped his arms around Dane, tucked him against his chest, closed his eyes, and tried to go back to sleep despite the hot, sweet, vulnerable guy now curled up in his arms.

  When he awoke the next morning, he’d found himself alone in bed, and Dane had been in the kitchen getting their coffee ready, happily humming to himself.

  And Porter spotted the fresh cuts on shirtless Dane’s upper left arm.

  * * * *

  Over the next three weeks, Dane ended up in Porter’s bed more often than not in the middle of the night, but they still weren’t talking about it. Porter had opted to wait and see where this led rather than confronting him. Wasn’t like it was a hardship for him, even if it wasn’t sexual between them. Porter always made sure to wear boxers or sleep shorts to bed because he didn’t want to freak Dane out.

  He grew to learn to listen for Dane, the sound of his thrashing in bed, the way his cheap-ass bedframe creaked. By the time Dane made it to his bed, Porter would have scooted far to the side to make room, and was facing toward the open space, his arms open to him.

  Week four, when Dane came to him, Porter buried his face in Dane’s hair and told him it was okay to start out in his bed at night instead of waiting. So they could both sleep better.

  It was another two weeks before Dane did just that.

  And another week after that when Dane skimmed off his shorts before climbing in bed with him, this time not wanting to sleep.

  * * * *

  Rain like they had today always triggered Dane in deep and bad ways, making him want Porter to distract him by spanking him and fucking him hard. Tying him up.

  But always only after he asked for it.

  If Porter ever tried to offer or suggest, it sent Dane scurrying, so he quickly learned never to ask Dane.

  He soon realized he never had to.

  Porter also quickly learned that when Dane asked for it, the cutting…didn’t stop totally, but it rarely happened then.

  They’d been living together for almost eight months and doing this dance with each other when, after a rainy, stormy night spent fucking each other until their balls were empty, Dane got drunk on tequila and told Porter about his four years of hell, and one of his older half-brothers, who was almost thirteen years older than him and lived with them—their father and Dane’s mom, the man’s fourth wife.

  The first time it’d happened, Dane had only been six.

  How everyone in his family, including his five grown half-brothers, grandparents, and his own mother and father, blamed him for his brother going to jail. Why Dane had left Arkansas as soon as he’d graduated from tech school.

  And why Dane was now a cutter and had the nightmares, especially on the stormy nights.

  * * * *

  Ten years ago…

  “I’m going to miss this place.” Dane stood at the back window and stared out at the misting rain.

  Porter walked up behind him and waited for Dane to lean back.

  Not only did he do that, he pulled Porter’s arms around him and tightly held on to him like that.

  Porter gently rested his chin on top of Dane’s head. So would he. “We don’t need to go. They said they’d extend our contracts, if we wanted.” He’d actually extended his past the two years he’d first planned on working here so he could stay with Dane.

  Dane sighed. “No, it’s time for us to move on. We’re going to make better money in Lakeland, anyway. Before, this was the better bet.”

  “I’ll have plenty of room in my place.” Porter was renting a mobile home not far from the airport they’d both found mechanic jobs at in Lakeland. Not the fanciest place, but a three-two, and cheap rent because it belonged to a cousin of a future coworker.

  More than big enough for two people

  They weren’t “dating.”

  They weren’t “boyfriends.”

  They weren’t “lovers” or “Dominant and submissive” in label, because any of those labels, and their potential for making it back to anyone Dane still had living in his family, especially his mother, terrified him.

  They were absolutely friends.

  But since they’d been living together, Porter didn’t even try to go out with anyone else except as friends.

  Didn’t want to.

  Dane never went out with anyone, either, even though he said Porter could and should.

  There was also Dane’s drinking.

  Porter didn’t scold Dane over it, because it never interfered with his work. He usually only did it on Friday and Saturday nights, and not every weekend.

  Only on the stormy ones.

  “My mom wants to be able to come visit me,” Dane softly said.

  Who’s going to hold you when you have nightmares?

  But Porter didn’t ask.

  He didn’t push. Not like that, anyway. He came the closest he ever got to pushing with Dane. “I’ll have an extra bedroom. It can be her guest room.”

  Dane finally turned in his arms and looked up at him. “She can’t know,” he quietly said. “She’s the only family I really have left. I know she would disown me, especially after what happened. When he divorced her, Dad still blamed me for my brother going to jail. My relationship with her already hangs by a thread.”

  And so Porter didn’t push, because Dane never spoke about what happened like that in the daylight and stone-cold sober.

  Porter refused to push.

  Because he desperately didn’t want to push Dane away.

  * * * *

  Porter and Dane met Gavin when they started working in Lakeland. The helicopter company Gavin worked for sat three buildings down from Lakeland Wings Aviation, where they now worked. Gavin didn’t share a lot of info, but Porter got the impression Gavin was on the last chapters of a rocky relationship with a guy.

  Upon moving to Florida from Puerto Rico, Dane became a different person almost immediately, Porter noticed.

  In public.

  In the evenings, and on weekends, Porter frequently ended up spending them with Dane, because Dane would come over to Porter’s. Or Porter would wake up on a weeknight to find Dane had silently let himself in with the key Porter gave him and was now curled against him in bed.

  The marks came back worse than they’d been since Porter first got to see that side of Dane, always on his thighs where no one else could see them because of his clothes.

  Porter only saw them because they were together.

  And he worried.

  But while Porter knew Dane would never publicly acknowledge he was gay, much less that there was anything between them that would make people think the two of them were a romantic item, even miles away from Dane’s family in Arkansas, Dane welcomed Gavin’s presence as a friend and made no secret about that. When it became obvious Gavin had more than a few interests in common with them, kinky interests, Dane relaxed even more around him, which relaxed Porter.

  He’d hoped, if nothing else, that maybe Dane would come to at least confide in Gavin, too. Not feel as lonely. Porter and Gavin became closer, close friends, good friends, although Porter didn’t pursue the attraction he felt for Gavin despite Dane’s urging.

  Gavin finally confided some of what was going on in his life with his relationship with Geoff, and Porter and Dane both supported him, consoled him when Gavin found the strength to make the break and end it with the guy. Especially when other friends, who’d become mutual friends with all three men, started telling Gavin that the guy was screwing around and lying to him about it. That night the three of them had sat around doing shots of tequila, toasting and ending each with salud.