Josiah
After getting the confirmation that they’d be going to the cabin, Josiah called the twins. He told them he’d prep the bar, but that they were in charge with Nelson. They jumped at the chance, because they loved to run the place, even at the weekends when it could get a bit chaotic.
He called their temps to find out who might want to work the weekend shifts with the trio and got the staff balance right by the time he had to start packing. He felt good leaving the Hare to the “kids.” He’d hired them all for a reason after all.
He was upstairs, finishing packing, when he heard the back door bang shut. Then heavy steps walked up the stairs to his apartment, and Denny came in at the same time he knocked.
“What if I was jerking off?” Josiah asked, like he always did.
Grinning, Denny snarked back, “Well I guess then I’d see your dick. Again.”
Josiah looked at his friend, taking in the minor details hanging around the handsome features. He put his toiletry kit on top of everything else in the pack, and then went to Denny, hugging him.
To his surprise, Denny slumped a little, letting Josiah take some of his weight. Without thinking, Josiah lifted his hand to squeeze the back of Denny’s neck, which just made him slump more.
“That bad?” Josiah whispered.
Denny nodded, took in a deep breath, and hugged him tighter before letting go. “Thanks.”
“Anytime, you know that.”
Denny smiled at him tiredly. “Yeah, I do.” He glanced around Josiah’s little space. “You ready?”
“Yes, just about. Let me get my hoodie and we can go.” He went to his tiny bedroom to find his favorite hoodie—an old one from Denny’s college days, yes, he understood how ridiculous it was, given… everything—and when he came back, Denny had shouldered his pack.
“You meanmyhoodie,” Denny teased, like he did every time.
“Semantics….”
They chuckled as they left the apartment.
Josiah double-checked that the doors were locked and saw the way Denny looked at him fondly as he jogged to Denny’s SUV. If he didn’t know better, he’d think there was something more than deep friendship in those eyes, but it was what it was, unhealthy as some of it might’ve been.
“Alrighty, off we go,” Denny said as he started the car.
They didn’t talk much on the way to the cabin. They’d known each other long enough to feel no need to fill silences with chatting. Josiah could sense the heavy cloud that approached Denny gradually. He hated it, knowing what Denny was going through and knowing he couldn’t do much else than to try and weather the storm with him.
The morning had been cloudy, but somehow, when they reached the riverside cabin, the sun peeked through the clouds. It felt nice, getting sunlight on his face after working pretty much non-stop for a few weeks.
Josiah tried to go running every now and then, but most of the time he just woke up, had breakfast, checked the news and his emails, and then went downstairs to fiddle around the pub until lunchtime. Then he’d go to the diner to eat, before taking a walk to digest his food and—“Are we getting old?” he asked, stopping in his tracks.
Denny snorted. “I might be, you’re really not that old yet.”
Huffing, Josiah started up the stairs. “One day I’ll have to support your ancient ass so you can get up here.”
Denny followed him with his own bag and a groceries. “Youwishyou could get your hands on my ass.”
“Every night, buddy.”
They burst out laughing. Yeah, they had been friends for long enough to know each other like brothers. Speaking of which….
“Did your mom call?” Josiah blurted out without thinking.
Denny grunted.
“Okay, we’ll talk or not talk about it later,” Josiah amended. He knew the anniversary of Dave’s death was tomorrow, landing squarely on a Saturday this year. At least it gave Josiah time. Tonight, he could maybe try to get Denny to talk about the situation with Kristin and tomorrow could be dedicated to stories about Dave, even though at this point Josiah knew most of those stories as well as Denny.
They put all the stuff away, and then Denny went outside while Josiah started coffee. It was another ritual. Denny would find the ancient wooden fishing rods and the bobbers they’d made out of wine bottle corks one summer, and make sure the line was still good and the hook was sharp. Then he’d dig some earth worms from a now barren flower bed at the edge of the yard where the dirt stayed moist enough, and then go sit on the boulder by the river.
