Gravity (Greenford #2) - Romeo Alexander Page 0,37

you were so distant and standoffish with me when we were...whatever we were in Portland?”

Samuel’s answer was immediate. “Yes. I saw a lot of the old patterns between us, and as much as I enjoyed being with you…”

“You were always wondering when the other shoe was going to drop,” Caleb finished for him.

“Yeah,” Samuel said softly. “And by doing that, presented a new set of problems that broke us apart in the end. I couldn’t keep going the way we were, and you shouldn’t have to put up with that. The only thing I could do at that point was to walk away because I couldn’t get past the problems, and if I couldn’t, you sure wouldn’t because the problem was me.”

Caleb nodded, slowly taking another drink. It was more or less what he’d suspected all along, but now he knew for sure. The pieces had all been there, but he’d never had the courage to really ask or try to make them work. On the one hand, he had been responsible for so much of their failures, but on the other, so was Samuel. Neither of them had walked away with clean hands or a clear conscience.

The only question that remained was what they were supposed to do with that information.

Caleb decided that was a question for another time. He had got the truth from Samuel who, despite being wary, had answered honestly. There had been no attempt to divert away from the topic, no irritation, nothing but the whole truth. He supposed it was just one more example of how things had changed for them.

“Where were you thinking of going for breakfast?” Caleb asked.

After their very greasy and satisfying breakfast, they decided to walk the remaining handful of blocks to where they’d left their cars. Samuel’s logic had been that they probably needed help getting rid of some of the extra calories, and Caleb hadn’t found a reason to argue. That and he’d always enjoyed a nice walk after a hearty meal, he found it fought off the lethargy.

“I still can’t believe Henry’s is still open after all these years,” Caleb said, glancing over his shoulder as they walked to the nearest corner.

Samuel laughed at that. “Really? God, that place would survive through a nuclear war. It’s been there for decades and it’s probably going to outlive us.”

“Like Henry himself,” Caleb said, referencing the ancient and yet somehow active owner. “And probably some of the food they cook there.”

“That place keeps itself going through the sheer force of its food and how great it is for a hangover. In a college town, that’s going to be the place to go on Saturday and Sunday mornings,” Samuel said as they crossed the street.

“I didn’t see many people in there,” Caleb pointed out.

Samuel pulled out his phone. “It’s like...ten in the morning. Most of the people who are going to wake up with screaming hangovers are only just starting to get up. Go in there for lunch and you’ll find a whole horde of half-dead looking people ordering the greasiest things they can find on the menu. Or just groaning into their laps.”

Caleb remembered those days all too well. He’d never been much of an excessive drinker himself, but he had been around when many of his friends were nursing vodka fever, gin regret, or Budweiser Flu. Of course, that had been when his body could tolerate the greasy food a lot better, and hangovers didn’t take a full day to pass, if not longer.

“I distinctly remember you being a frequent weekend patron at Henry’s,” Caleb said as he eyed the other man.

Samuel laughed. “That I was. Sometimes it was a miracle that I even crawled out of wherever I’d fallen asleep to make it there.”

“Which on that note, I also remember you falling asleep in the booths there more than once,” Caleb said. “And since you seem to have forgotten, I was usually the one dragging you out into the world to get some food into your stomach.”

“That was before I learned you needed to eat right before you drank, and then again at the end of the night,” Samuel said, tapping the side of his head. “You gotta drink smart if you’re going to drink big.”

“Or try this, not drink big.”

“Well, where’s the fun in that?”

“Going into your thirties where hangovers will kick your ass harder than they did in your early twenties?”

Samuel sighed heavily at that. “The worst part is, it’s already started kicking in. I can’t