Page 25 of Good Friends
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 meloveyou?
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.
* * * *
