Page 23 of Good Friends
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…alwaysassumedGavin 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.
