The drudgery of coming home to a shitty house never failed to depress Gabriel. At least Chad had stopped showing up at his place or waiting for him when he got home. Chad must have been too afraid of Art getting pissed off at him. They were buddies, but Art didn’t like even friends showing up unannounced.

That gave them both peace and quiet, even if Gabriel might have traded that for company every now and then. He knew Chad was counting on him getting lonely and crawling back to him, though. That made him dig his heels in and remember his resolution to cut the guy out of his life.

A couple times a week, Gabriel stopped by May and Lyle’s house on the way home from work. His aunt and uncle always made enough for the neighborhood on Saturday nights, even if it was just the three of them, and pressed enough leftovers on him to fill up the bar fridge in the corner of his kitchen.

The rest of the time, Gabriel headed home to turn on the old stove shoved into the opposite corner, next to a couple tables that served as countertops. There was a separate toilet and shower room stuck onto the back of the cabin like an afterthought, but the place had one sink next to the bathroom door.

It was all cobbled together as a makeshift living situation. And Gabriel was grateful for the cheap rent. Art only charged him a hundred bucks a month to cover the cost of the appliances and light remodeling work he’d had to do to make it ready for Gabe to move into. And another twenty for utilities, which the place was somehow supplied with.

Gabriel was suspicious of Art’s electrician friend who had supposedly approved the wiring, but nothing had actually caught on fire yet, so he figured he could be worse off.

Especially since this helped him save up for the big move so much faster. Houston rent wasn’t going to be appealing, especially if he was looking for a job at the same time.

Without any special skills, Gabriel figured he’d be working in a restaurant. He was set for that—he’d waited tables at the town diner, Rocket, for a couple summers in high school. If he took a barista job instead, he could learn to make coffee.

He’d learn to do damn near anything it took to leave this place.

And now the man he’d thought he’d never see again had come home, all smiles and muscles and inappropriately long hugs.

After he grabbed leftover casserole to heat up in a pot on the stove, Gabriel crashed on the bed and covered his face.

How the hell was he going to keep his cool around Orion? He’d crushed on the guy for basically his entire high school career.

“Fuck my life,” Gabriel mumbled. “I’m going to end up embarrassing the hell out of myself, aren’t I? Again. Like he doesn’t remember the first time.”

A bubbling sound from the stove—his casserole was ready. He hastily swung his legs off the bed and sprinted across the room to turn the stove off before supper stuck and burned.

Gabriel grabbed himself a soda and settled at the rickety plastic folding table in the corner, on a plastic lawn chair. Supper, thanks to Aunt May, was filling and nutritious.

Cora didn’t mind if he brought unsold produce home, and only because of that was the rest of his diet somewhat okay. Which was a good thing, since it took a surprising amount of energy to sell produce, especially in the roadside stall. His hustle was what had gotten him the job, and it was his way of connecting with people despite his hang-ups about… well, who he was.

Gay people weren’t exactly everywhere here, and Gabriel couldn’t connect with people when the conversation stopped short at who he was—or wasn’t—dating. He’d given up on friendship and socializing, but at least work gave him that much.

Hell, Cora wasn’t just his boss—she was a good friend. Her accident had worried the hell out of him. But she seemed determined not to let it hold her back, which he would admire if he weren’t so frustrated at her.

Kevin, one of Cora’s three sons who ran the business and handled most of the sales end of it, was just as frustrated. It seemed like they’d finally persuaded her to accept help, and Gabriel was glad.

“Ugh.” He washed up dishes and stacked them on the table to dry, then looked around the place. Even with a TV, there wasn’t much to do at night. He only got the very few free channels he could get on an old satellite dish without getting in trouble with the law. He wasn’t gonna pay for a connection and be a few bucks further away from freedom every month.

But his hobby was pretty cheap, especially when he scoured used bookstores online for discounts and free shipping on the heavy, expensive gardening books that filled an entire rickety shelf of their own in the corner. He didn’t even need the best art supplies like a real artist to do his own designs.

Best of all, it allowed him to close his eyes and escape in a fantasy world. From secret gardens and walled enclosures to backyard centerpieces and showcases, he could create another world one garden bed at a time.

Even if he was stuck in the mud in this one.