The One That Got Away Read Online Free PDF Page B

before looking at David. “Think you’ll be okay? I’ve got to go out for awhile.”
    Keeping his eyes closed, David felt Trace’s warm breath on his face.
    “I’ll be fine, Dad. Go. Before Hardin fires your sorry ass and you have to move in with me.”
    Trace chuckled quietly. “All right. I’m going. I’ve got my cell.” He reached over and turned out the lamp before he walked over to the bathroom to turn on the light and pull the door partly closed. He paused at the threshold leading to the hall, looking back at his best friend and sighing softly. At least David would be okay. Seeing him hurt really bothered Trace. Mouth quirking fondly, he left to run his errands.

    DAVID shifted on the couch trying to get comfortable. After trying several positions, he had discovered that the corner of the couch seemed to work better than his favorite recliner. Unfortunately, on some days, no position was comfortable. David pressed the play button on the remote.
    Five days into his forced restriction, the two men had developed a routine.
    Trace left for a few hours in the morning and a few more in the afternoon to get his work done, making sure he was home to do all the cooking. In the evenings they were working their way through a tall stack of DVDs that Trace had brought back that first night. Almost two weeks later, David could barely remember what it was like without Trace around all the time.
    David shifted again, his back aching from holding his shoulder still in the hated sling. “The popcorn almost ready or should I hit pause?” he called out, knowing Trace hated missing the beginning of a movie. 

    “Pause, please!” Trace said loud enough for David to hear as he blankly watched the microwave tick down the time. His mind was on work tonight, and he doubted he’d actually comprehend the movie although he’d sit and watch it to keep David company. David was trying hard not to be a bear, he could tell. It was kind of funny, really. Blinking when the microwave beeped, he realized he was grinning. Shrugging, he pulled out the hot and steamy bag, tossing it from hand to hand.
    It had been different staying over at David’s the past couple weeks.
    They got along really well in close quarters (so far anyway), like they’d been sharing the house for much longer. Trace had decided he liked having the company, even if it was quiet, somewhat-unlike-David company. And it beat going home to an empty apartment. He was a social creature and had always thought David was the same, but now he realized he really didn’t know that for sure. Yeah, they got along fine, but there wasn’t a circle of friends around the two of them. Trace had his—and in theory David had his. Trace wondered what else David did besides hang out with him. He hadn’t had much at all in the way of visitors. Even if he wasn’t into casual sex, surely he got in some companionship somehow.
    Trace walked over to the fridge for cold drinks, pulling it open.
    Hmm. Grocery run needed. He added it to his list of things to do tomorrow. He needed to go home and wash clothes and feed the cat (who was really giving him hell over being gone so much), pick up his clothes at the cleaners, conduct a series of interviews at the Performing Arts Center, turn in the latest set of music reviews, make a list of pending restaurant reviews, pick up some more DVDs….
    So he was distracted when he walked into the living room, carrying two drinks and the big bowl of popcorn.
    David watched in horror as Trace tripped over the coffee table, popcorn and soda flying up into the air in slow-motion like a bad comedy.
    Without thinking, he reached out to help, cursing as pain knifed through  his shoulder, his arm dropping limp to his side. “Fucking hell!” he cried out, dropping back to the couch.
    Groaning, Trace rolled over to his back from where he had fallen on his knees. He stared up at the ceiling. “Ouch,” he mentioned conversationally.
    “Yeah,” David agreed, his