Knoxville was the kind of city where you could hide from someone for a while, but not for a lifetime. About once a year, Alec got an unpleasant reminder of that fact, and never when he expected it.

“Fuck.” He stared at the car in the parking lot of the grocery store, wishing he hadn’t noticed it. Wishing he’d remembered his parents’ morning routine a little better.

The vanity license plate frame—hand-painted, bought from a roadside market in Arizona on their last family road trip—made it unmistakably their little white Ford hatchback.

Now Alec had to decide if he could stomach pretending he hadn’t noticed it and going inside to shop for his weekly groceries. He hated the possibility of coming face-to-face with the people who had raised him for eighteen years before tossing him out of their lives because he didn’t love quite the right people.

He realized he was chewing his thumbnail. “Fuck,” he muttered and dropped his hands to his lap. The old habit was so rare now that he sometimes forgot he’d once done it. It only came out again when he was near his parents—a nervous tic born of anxiety and fear.

God, it had taken years to see how fucked up it was to have felt afraid of his own parents for so long. He wasn’t going to undo any of his progress by acting like he was still afraid of them.

“Fine.” He yanked his keys out of the ignition, checked his parking brake, and stormed out of his car.

If he couldn’t be afraid, he was going to bring his pissed-off face to the world.

Of course, that lasted about thirty seconds. As he reached the row of carts by the entrance, he stepped out of an employee’s way to let him push the returned carts into the row, then offered him a smile.

God. I can’t even stay mad, can I?

He’d always been bad at acting. Being anyone other than himself was too much work. He’d done it for goddamn long enough.

Plus, he was afraid of being seen as… well… angry. He didn’t even know why it scared him, but it did. Alec’s pleasant attitude made him popular with patients, but surely there was a limit. When guys used him for sex, he ought to be angry. When people cut him off in traffic, it wouldn’t kill him to flip them the middle finger now and then.

But nope—his mask slipped off fast, and he was always just… him. Whether or not that was enough for someone else.

The first few aisles were clear, and he gradually relaxed as he gathered vegetables.

It wasn’t until he crouched by the bottom shelf to pick up his favorite pasta sauce that his senses prickled. The hair stood up on the back of his neck, and he knew without looking around who must have been nearby. A moment later, he realized he was smelling his mom’s perfume.

The faintly flowery scent was distinctive. Mom had always worn it to church. They picked up snacks for the Sunday school kids before church, and bought non-perishable foods for the food bank and household at the same time.

Sure enough, his mom was halfway to grabbing a bag of pasta when she caught sight of him. As they made eye contact, he kept his expression as blank as he could, even though hope rose in his chest as always.

Her expression closed off and she grabbed two bags of pasta, then turned and strode down the aisle, her head high.

And Alec’s stupid fucking heart broke again, just a little. It wasn’t that he hadn’t expected it. It was just…

It was a stupid thing, hope. Soul-crushing and irrational and utterly unstoppable.

He blinked rapidly a few times, grabbed the pasta sauce, and straightened up, staring through the shelves of pasta. When had he last seen her face-to-face? He’d spotted his dad in the hardware store last summer. Dad had maintained the even stiffer facade of the two of them—he always pretended not to see Alec.

Just as always after one of these encounters—once or twice a year, at most—he suddenly wanted to learn poker. A poker face would give him the edge he was missing. Right now, they had hold of the knife and they were twisting it around and around in his chest with every goddamn accidental encounter.

He hated that he’d let his mom see him hopeful, and then hurt, if only for a few seconds.

“Fuck me,” he muttered under his breath, realizing he’d been standing still for a good minute. As he reached the end of the aisle, he caught sight of his parents, arm in arm. They’d gotten through the checkout, and they were carrying bags out to the car.

They stopped briefly to drop a bag of pasta in the food collection box, then kept walking.

It had always bothered him: how the hell could his parents donate to the food bank when they’d made their own kid homeless and nearly hungry? If it hadn’t been for his scholarship and the cheap apartment he’d found in freshman year, he would have been screwed. He’d juggled two campus jobs to pay for that plus food, and even then, he’d gone with less food than he should have at times.

They’d had plenty of support from his grandparents—only two of whom were still alive, but both of whom had taken their side. Or God’s side, as they would have put it.

When the hell had any of them ever known that pain?

Alec turned on his heel and headed back to grab two more bags of pasta.

* * *

He’d almost forgotten what this particular black hole of loneliness felt like.

Way back when, this might have left Alec in a depressed funk for days or weeks. He’d wasted a lot of time feeling like crap about himself, and he was done wasting more time now. Only school and then his career had pulled him along at first. Getting to do something helpful, physical, and fascinating had been his lifeline.

Most importantly, it was something to help people and quiet the voice that still echoed around his mind sometimes—selfish bastard, you only think of yourself. As if he’d been gay just to inconvenience them.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he stared at the front of his parents’ church.

Sunday service would be under way now. He’d deliberately done a few circuits around Knoxville before driving to the church parking lot, lest he cause a commotion. But a small part—okay, a pretty big part of him—wanted to do exactly that.

Did he want to walk in and ask the new reverend—some Rev. Paul Goodson, apparently—for forgiveness? Hell, no. He refused to apologize for love.

Maybe this new reverend would be reasonable about it and understand his point of view. Or maybe he’d be worse. God only knew. Hah. God, he thought. He kept his hands on the steering wheel so he didn’t go for the door handle, and… lose the battle of will going on within him right now.

When Alec probed his thoughts deeper, they didn’t feel charitable. A vindictive, bitter need for something was eating away at him. He wanted to make a scene and be inconvenient for his parents. Alive and happy. Successful and good and smart. All the things they’d said he wouldn’t be.

But what would that solve? For whatever stupid reason, his parents had no love left for him. It was like dipping a bucket into an empty well, hearing it rattle and clatter around as he desperately searched for a drop.

No. Alec had to find his own wellspring of acceptance and approval—somewhere deep inside himself. He could usually tap into it and quiet the memories of angry, heartfelt, heartbreaking words. Only sometimes did this uglier, needy side of him come out.

He closed his eyes and shook his head, letting go of the wheel and slumping in his seat.

It wasn’t even love from his parents that he was looking for, or he could show up at their front step. But a church was supposed to be—was, to some lucky bastards—a community. Somewhere to feel accepted, and safe, and home.

He wanted to find that feeling of being at home and hold on with both hands.

Sure, he had a house of his own now, but that was nowhere near the same thing, and he knew it. Over the past few years, Alec could remember fairly often staying up late at night, alone and lost in his own thoughts.

For just a moment, he remembered hanging out with Tyler. Comfortably sprawled on the couch together, listening to him explaining what was happening as cars went round and round the track. Drinking wine together, laughing about stupid commercials.

Something like that. But… with the right guy. Someone who’d stay around forever.

Fuck. He didn’t want just any old guy, though. His fantasy wasn’t about just “some guy” taking notice of him anymore. It was Tyler that he wanted to stay around forever. And given his career, that was unlikely.

Okay, that explained this. It wasn’t about his parents at all. He was freaking out because he liked the guy.

Alec started the car and pulled out for another round of aimless driving, this time setting a course for the edge of Knoxville, where it was a bit more peaceful. If he kept driving for long enough, he’d end up in Gatlinburg and then the Smokies.

He remembered his mom telling him, years and years ago, that he’d been a fussy baby to get to sleep. They’d often put him in the car and driven him around the neighborhood. It had been the only foolproof way to calm him down, she said.

How the worm turned. Now he was driving himself around to calm down after seeing the people who ought to have loved him—or at least tried.

Alec’s hands tightened on the wheel. He wasn’t that unlovable, was he?

He turned up the music, drumming his fingers along to the classic rock station as the speed limit picked up and fields flew by. He was surrounded by farmland before long. Which farm was Tyler staying on? And with whom? His parents? He’d mentioned something about it, but that was it.

At least it was a beautiful day for a drive, now that he’d passed most of the Sunday drivers in their fancy classic cars. The Smokies loomed behind flower-studded spring meadows, sometimes disappearing behind copses of trees putting out fresh spring buds.

The anxiety tightening his chest gradually lessened, and he even took a risk and rolled down the window, hoping he didn’t get a noseful. But, soothing though it was, the vast scenery also amplified the emptiness that thudded strangely in his chest.

Alec was still lonely, and he still wanted Tyler, consequences or not.

This wasn’t going away, which meant one thing in his experience: grabbing it with both hands and figuring out what the hell it was.

That’s it. Time to decide.

As soon as Tyler was out of his care, Alec would ask him out. But no sooner had he thought that than he realized that his opportunity—those opera tickets—was coming up a lot sooner.

The opera was just next week. And could he really wait two or three or six more weeks for Tyler to decide he’d had enough physical therapy? He hadn’t been able to resist Tyler yet, after all.

“Okay, Alec,” he murmured out loud, slowing down when he reached a pull-off that overlooked the mountains. They were startlingly close now—had he really driven this far while sorting through the mess of thoughts and feelings? “Time to make the call.”

He’d make a terrible referee, always able to see the other side of every decision but never quite sure which was the right one.

When it came to his life, he had even less of an idea. All he could do was follow his heart, which was telling him one thing—loud and clear.

“That’s it. I’m gonna ask him out.”