Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 125248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Ro took that hit without flinching. “You’re right.”
Syn looked at him then.
Ro held his gaze. “He should’ve told you. He should’ve given you the chance to be mad before he did it, not after. I’m not taking that from you.”
Syn turned his attention back to the neighborhood. “Then why does everybody talk like I’m supposed to just understand? Let it go.”
Ro’s expression softened. “Because understanding isn’t the same as condoning. And because we all know Furi.”
“I know he wanted to help. I know he loves me. I know all of that,” he said, the words muffled against his palms. “But I’m the one who had to see him on that screen. I’m the one who had to read strangers talking about me and him like we’re done. Do you know how embarrassing it was to find out from Mason?”
Ro was quiet.
Syn dropped his hands. “Y’all keep telling me why he did it, but nobody wants to talk about what it did to me.”
The street began to blur at the edges.
He wasn’t going to bleed out on Ro’s porch like some wounded animal. But the truth was pressing hard now.
He wanted Furi. He wanted to go home and yell at him, to touch him, shove him away then drag him close again.
A loud motorcycle roared in the distance and Syn’s entire body reacted.
That custom engine was impossible to mistake.
Syn stood fast.
Ro stood slow. “Syn.”
It was too late, he was already moving.
“You gotta stop running, brother.”
“I’m not doing this right now.”
“Syn.”
He didn’t stop, his pulse beating hard.
He went inside, through the front hall, past the living room where Johnson’s laptop and work files sat on the coffee table, around the kitchen, until he was at the back door.
A few moments later the motorcycle cut off outside.
Syn braced both hands on the patio railing and stared out over Ro’s quiet backyard.
He didn’t want to talk to or even look at Furi.
His heart ached too much to face the man who’d broken it into pieces.
Furi
Furi couldn’t hold out another day.
Four days of walking through their house, of sleeping in an empty bed. Four days of checking his phone so often the battery gave up before noon, waiting for a message or call that never came.
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.”