Page 44 of Roommate's Guide to Love

“Thanks,” I say. “And thanks to you for defusing that fight. I couldn’t get over there in time.”

Jenny waves me off as she chugs her drink. “That was nothing. Those two know they can’t drink bourbon. Makes ’em mean.”

I laugh and force myself to stand up, because if I sit any longer, I might pass out. “Hey, did you ever have a chance to talk to Porter?”

She shakes her head. “Never had the chance. I figured he’d pop back in after close and I’d make sure everything was okay.”

I look back down the hallway where Porter would normally be at this time of night, counting money and going through receipts, when I see a sliver of light creeping through the bottom of the office doorway. Except I know a few hours ago when I went back to grab vodka out of the closet that no lights were on. I checked.

“Ready to go?” Jenny asks as I see headlights pulling up to the front door. “Like clockwork, my ride awaits.”

I look back to Jenny, then back down the hallway. “You go ahead. I have to go drop the money back in the safe.”

Jenny looks past me and down the hallway before raising an eyebrow. “You sure?”

I nod, not really knowing what else to say. We both know that I’m staying to talk to Porter. I don’t think Jenny knows our history, but if anyone in this town did, it would definitely be her. The woman has waitressed at the town bar for more than twenty years. She could write a best seller with the things she’s heard and the secrets she knows.

Oh! Jenny needs a reality show. I’d watch the shit out of that.

“Be careful, Quinn.”

Now that surprises me. “Of what?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she explains, but adds in a nod down the hallway. “He doesn’t talk about his mama a lot. And if that girlishis sister like people are saying, that’s going to bring up some wounds that he let scar over a long time ago.”

“Good to know. Thanks.”

I follow Jenny to her car, giving her a wave as I shut and lock the door. I then make sure to grab the moneybag before heading to the office. I need to put it in the safe anyway, so at least it gives me a reasonable cover story.

In all the years Porter and I have been…well, Porter and I…I don’t think he’s ever talked about his mom. Not even the night of his dad’s funeral.

I knew she wasn’t around. Everyone in town did. But I never asked about her. Fuck buddies don’t ask questions about personal lives or childhood traumas. That’s too…relationshippy. Too personal. Too real.

And yes, Porter and I might’ve been real in what we were doing, but that’s the only sense. And that’s how we both wanted it.

But now things are different. We’re…friends. Yeah, friends. Plus, he’s my boss. Employees can check on their bosses to make sure they’re okay, right? If they can’t, I know friends can.

Now whether he wants me to? That’s a different question.

The closer I get to the office, the more I see the light beaming from under the crack. I gently knock, not wanting to scare him, but part of me has to think he knows at some point I’m going to come back here.

“Just leave the money on the bar, Quinn. I’ll get it later.”

I shake my head and push open the unlocked door. “Sorry. Can’t do. I’m very responsible with money, and for all I know Harry and George are going to come in and swipe it.”

My joke falls flat as Porter just stares at his computer screen. I take another step in to get a better look at him, and my heart breaks seeing the blank stare on his face in contradiction with a million emotions dashing through his brown eyes.

“Want to talk about it?”

I walk around his desk, propping myself on the corner of it. I take a look to see what he’s staring at, only to find that it’s a picture of a much younger Porter—I can tell this was high school because I remember that Rolling Hills football T-shirt—surrounded by a family I’ve never seen.

“This was the last time I visited,” he says, his tone somber. “I was going into my junior year. I was pissed because I had to miss the first week of football practices. I was angry that whole trip.”

I don’t say anything, because what do you say? He’s clearly going through it right now, so I’m going to do something I rarely do—just shut up.

“I only went on those summer trips because Pops made me. Said it was the right thing to do. That she might’ve left, but she was still my mom. I told him she never paid attention to me while I was there. That I sat in the guest bedroom the whole time and played on the computer. He said it was still better that I was showing effort. And that it was her decision not to show any.”

“Wise words.” I nod to the computer screen. “Was this the last time you saw her?”

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