Page 102 of Nothing Special X: The Last Stand

By the fourth evening, Furi was done pretending he wasn’t dying minute by minute.

He was so scared he’d lost the love of his life that the panic had become physical. The constant pressure behind his ribs radiated through his chest.

Syn wasn’t just his partner. He wasn’t just the man he loved. Syn was the center of his world, his home.

He no longer knew how to survive now that he was homeless.

He cut the Harley’s engine at the curb and sat for a moment with his hands resting on the grips.

What if he went in and his love looked at him with that empty hurt again? The same way he had before he’d walked out with a suitcase.

What if he didn’t look at him at all?

Furi got off the bike before fear could talk him into turning around. He took the small canvas tote from the saddlebag, locked the helmet to the side, and walked up the path to Ro’s front door.

He lifted his hand to knock but the door was opened before his knuckles touched the wood.

Ro stood there in a black tank and gym shorts, with damp hair and the smell of soap rolling off him. His blue eyes scanned him up and down, and whatever he saw made his expression change.

“Hey,” Ro said.

Furi opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Ro stepped forward and pulled him into a hug. “How you been?”

Furi shook his head, his throat too choked with emotion to speak.

Ro’s hand moved over his back. “Yeah. I know.”

He pulled back before his trembling gave him away. He glanced over Ro’s shoulder, unable to stop himself.

Ro nodded. “He’s here. Come on in.”

Furi stepped inside.

Ro’s house wasn’t flashy. It had an open floor plan, warm wood floors, a big leather sectional facing a stone fireplace with framed photos and books neatly placed on the built-in shelves.

The kitchen flowed off to the left with a large island, stools tucked beneath the counter, copper pans hanging above the range, and a sliding glass door beyond it standing open to the back patio.

That was where he found his love, standing with his back to the house.

Syn had both hands braced on the patio railing, shoulders drawn tight beneath a wrinkled black shirt. His hair was wild, his beard fuller than usual and untrimmed.

Even from behind, Furi could see what the last four days had done to him.

“How has he been?” he asked Ro.

Ro glanced towards Syn, then back at him. “Same as you. Miserable.”

Furi worked to push down the lump in his throat.

Ro moved closer. “Go talk to him.”

Furi shook his head. “He left when he heard me.”

“He went outside. He didn’t leave.”

“He hates me.”