“I know I am,” Drew quipped. “Besides, it’s not worth being upset because you’re going to be back here in just over two weeks. To some people that might seem like a long ass time, but in our world, it’s nothing. It’s probably a good thing you’re going back because that way we have a trial run.”

“A trial run?” I parroted, glancing over to Eric, who was now listening intently to our conversation.

“Yeah. Two months after Christmas, I’ll be on my way down to Arizona for spring training,” Drew pointed out. “And unless you and Eric plan to relocate temporarily, which is a bad idea for multiple reasons, that means the two of you are going to be back here for those four weeks without me.”

“You’re assuming I’ll get the transfer,” I reminded him. Eric was growing frustrated by Drew’s inability to admit there was a chance my request would be denied. Even when I’d told them I would consider other options if Mr. Borgwardt tried to deny me, he’d insisted that wouldn’t be necessary. He claimed it was all part of his effort to have a more positive outlook on life, but it felt more like a bad case of denial.

“You will,” Drew responded firmly.

Eric snatched his keys off the kitchen counter. “I hate to break this up, but if we don’t get going, you’re going to miss your flight.”

Drew wrapped his arms tighter around my waist. “That sounds like a damn good idea to me. Tell Borgwardt that you missed your flight and he’ll have to reschedule. For never.”

He slid his hand over my thigh. He forced his way between my legs as he moved back toward my groin. “Mmm, as enticing as that sounds, I’m afraid I have to go,” I said regretfully. “But as you said, I’ll be back as soon as I can and then you can show me how much you missed me.”

I bit down on the corded tendon of Drew’s neck and he writhed in my grasp. It may be cruel for me to toy with him knowing there was no time to finish what I was starting, but I felt it only right that he be uncomfortable as well. It was his fault for trying to convince me to miss my flight in favor of getting naked and sweaty with them tonight.

Drew stood and followed me to the door. He grabbed my bag off the floor and started walking toward the car. After throwing it into the trunk with more force than necessary, he turned and threw his arms around my neck. “You’d better fucking come back.”

The gruff tone in Drew’s voice choked me up. It told me that no matter how much he tried playing off my leaving, he was hurting, too. We all were. I held my arm out and Eric joined our embrace.

“No matter what happens when I get back to Portland, I will be back,” I promised them. I couldn’t leave without both of them knowing how I felt. “I know I was the one who suggested we all start fucking around and swore it didn’t have to become anything, but it did. You two became everything to me and I couldn’t help but fall in love. Now, I know that home is where you are. I won’t stay away longer than necessary.”

Drew was the first to break down. He looked out over the water, trying to hide the way his eyes glistened with emotion, but I saw. It wasn’t a surprise. I’d noticed every time he opened his mouth to share his feelings, only to silence himself to be spared the pain if we didn’t feel the same way. I felt his love in the casual touches when we passed in the hall and the way he burrowed into my chest when he slept. His feelings were clear, even if he tried to hold back for whatever reason.

“You’d better have your ass back here for Christmas,” Eric warned me. “You were the one who said moving in wasn’t a small step. Just remember that because your stuff is here, even when you’re not. Get home when you can.”

I curled my fingers around the back of Eric’s neck and drew him in for a passionate kiss. I savored the firmness of his lips, the faint trace of coffee on his tongue, the musky smell he exuded after working out. I then turned and gave Drew a final kiss before I left, steadfastly refusing to say goodbye to them. This was a trial run, as Drew called it, and by this time next year, we would be pros at watching him leave while we stayed behind.

As Eric drove me to the airport, I asked that he keep an eye on everything here while I was gone. I worried more than I ever had in my life, both about what was going on at Pot of Gold while they were left without anyone in charge, but also about Drew. He’d begun to show a more intimate side of himself, and I worried that my abrupt departure would cause him to shut down to everyone yet again.

Monday morning, I struggled to drag myself out of bed. Mr. Borgwardt was expecting me at his office at eight thirty, which meant he’d be irritable if I wasn’t waiting outside the door by eight fifteen. In his mind, you were already late if you showed up ten minutes early. There was a time when I’d admired that about him, but now it pissed me off. The distance over the past two months had given me time to really analyze how he operated and I didn’t like what I saw. Mike Borgwardt was great at what he did, but only when he stood to profit, whether financially or through an increase in his reputation. Time was money to him, and every minute he spent dealing with Pot of Gold was a minute he wasn’t earning for himself and others.

Pot of Gold was a diversion for him. It was a way for him to honor the memory of the son he lost to the streets over a decade before. Unfortunately, it did nothing to pad his bank account. I was beginning to feel as though he poured money into the Portland center because that’s where his business capital firm was headquartered. It was a way for him to show how much he contributed to the city while doing nothing to assuage his guilt.

Milwaukee, on the other hand, had started as an afterthought. He’d once confessed to me that it was there where his son ran to when he left home and that was why Mike started a center downtown. He’d expected it to run as efficiently as Portland did without a quarter of the oversight or sponsorship and it was failing.

The door opened, and I stood. Mike assessed my appearance critically and voiced his displeasure in my more casual attire. This too was common because I’d never believed in dressing in a manner that made me seem unapproachable to those I was trying to help. “Bryce, it’s good to see you. Please, come in.”

I followed him and took a seat while he prepared a mug of tea. It said a lot about him that he couldn’t be bothered to ask if I would like anything, but again, I was used to it.

“Let’s cut the crap, Mike,” I said impatiently, calling him by his first name because I knew how much that pissed him off. He was old school and felt as though everyone should show him respect whether he’d earned it or not. Well, I didn’t work that way, and although he was a savvy businessman, I had the distinct feeling I was about to lose any respect for his ability to operate a non-profit organization. “We both know you’re uncomfortable as hell right now, which tells me I’m not going to like what you have to say.”

Mike sat down and cradled the steaming mug between his hands. His eyes shifted from me to a spreadsheet on the desk in front of him and back up. He exhaled a deep sigh.

“You know, your tenacity is something I’ve always admired,” he said, although it didn’t feel like much of a compliment. “I’ve always thought your talents were wasted at Pot of Gold, but I never could find a way to pull you away from there.”

“That’s because making sure no one is left out in the cold truly matters to me,” I bit out, perhaps a bit more defensively than I should have.

“Yes, I’m well aware.” He handed me a copy of the spreadsheet which was the annual operating statement for Milwaukee. I didn’t need to look at the numbers, they were all committed painfully to my memory. “Now, I know you’ve done everything possible to turn around our location in Wisconsin. And I have to say, what you were able to achieve is truly impressive.”