Page 19 of Good Friends
Gavin still didn’t feel like eating by the time nine o’clock rolled around that night. Even the ice cream remained untouched in his freezer.
Instead, he dragged himself into the shower more to not feel like an utter failure at adulting than anything. He’d spent the entire day on the sofa, napping, crying, watching TV until he fell asleep again, and repeating the cycle.
He knew he should have at least tried going to the gym or something, but he couldn’t even manage that.
He and Porter used to hit the gym together a couple of days a week. They’d get up early if they were staying together, or Porter would pick him up, they’d ride in together, work out, and Porter would drop him at work, which was at the same airport where Porter worked.
Kent, Tim, and Paul had told him he was welcomed to return tonight and stay again, but he knew he wouldn’t.
He couldn’t.
He wasn’t fit company right now. All he wanted to do was mope and cry and get this fucking shit out of his system.
Except how did he finally accept losing his best damned friend?
By the next morning he didn’t feel any better. If anything, he felt a lot worse, because he’d slept like shit after napping and crying most of yesterday afternoon.
He forced himself out of bed and to the gym, where he pushed himself on the treadmill at a punishing pace, so hard he got dizzy and had to sit down for a couple of minutes before he hit a stationary cycle, cranked to a hard incline, and finished exhausting himself there.
In the locker room, he picked a shower stall at the far end and stood under spray as hot as he could handle it while he silently sobbed with his forehead pressed against the wall.
Kind of felt like trying to detox, he imagined. Getting the drug out of his system.
He couldn’t bring himself to delete Porter’s damned voice mail.
The sound of the man sayingI love you.
The quiet hurt in his voice.
What if I’m wrong?
He strangled that thought and ripped it out at the roots. Hewasn’twrong. He’dbeenhere before.
Although that time the pain had been twenty times this, in some ways.
And not a fraction as bad in other ways. Especially after seeing what Porter went through the day they lost Dane.
This time, at least, Gavin knew his humiliation was mostly private. Unlike when Geoff had made him look like a clueless idiot.
Gavin had been gone a year, and most of his friends assumed he was still out of the country. Porter wasn’t publicly parading Jayce around, or he would’ve heard about it by now.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t proof Jayce was lying—that was proof that Porter was still consistent when it came to keeping his private business private.
Once Gavin knew he was steady enough to drive again, he bought a smoothie from the gym’s snack counter and headed home. He had laundry to do today, but other than that he planned to mope around some more, until time to go to work tomorrow morning.
Tomorrow, it’d be back to work, and a welcomed distraction from his brain’s chatterings. His coworkers were nice, the company’s owner was fair, and the hours and pay were good. It wasn’t like in Costa Rica, where he frequently fought tight deadlines and shitty conditions—and anxious tour operators—to get a bird back in the air so they didn’t lose precious charter fares.
Although the pay had absolutely been worth it. Except he’d felt totally isolated there.
Worse was the fact that right now hestillfelt isolated.
But that’s my own fault.
Admitting he was back in the States would mean admitting he’d lied to Porter. It’d also open himself up to pestering questions from the few family members he hadn’t yet had the balls to block on social media.
Kent, Tim, and Paul were the only friends who knew he was back, because he absolutely knew they wouldn’t tell a damn soul.
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