I’d never planned on ending up in Lavender Shores. At least not long-term. I took the five-year approach to both my undergrad and my master’s degree. Those years in San Francisco allowed me my first taste of freedom from the convoluted mess that was my family. And I reveled in every minute. By the time I finished my degree in Psychology, things were ending with Paulie. My mother was diagnosed with breast cancer, and despite the life I’d managed to build over the past eight years in the city, it seemed like things were beginning to crumble. So Lavender Shores called to me once more. I came home, helped take care of Mom, and started my private practice. It was meant to be just that, practice.

By the time a year had passed, Mom had undergone treatment and the cancer was in remission. I’d healed from the heartbreak of my first real relationship. And I figured out that I’d chosen my degree in order to work through my own family issues, which should’ve been obvious all along. In doing so, having them all shoved in my face once more only led me to realize there were things I couldn’t fix but I didn’t really need to anymore. I’d gotten what I needed from Lavender Shores. It was time to fly, maybe to New York, Boston, even back to San Francisco. I’d open my practice for real, date for a while, and maybe build a family. One without all the twists and turns of my own.

Then Gilbert Bryant walked through my door. He was sixteen, angry, and going through hell. He’d been having an affair with one of his teachers over the previous year. Things had crashed into the open, and his world had crumbled. And that wasn’t just because of his teenage sensibilities. The affair rocked Lavender Shores unlike anything I’d ever seen. And the kicker, this kid with the chip on his shoulders, who’d been betrayed by authority figures who should’ve kept him safe… he trusted me. Only me. The thought of leaving him to his fate, of sharing his pain and then shrugging and walking away, was something I wasn’t sure I could do.

I couldn’t walk away from him.

Even so, Gilbert left for college two years later. From then on, most of our sessions were over the phone. I could’ve left a billion times. I should’ve. But by then, my little therapy practice had grown into something much more than merely a practice. And I was connected to Lavender Shores in a way I hadn’t been before. It was no longer the home of my childhood; it was just my home.

After five or six years of working nonstop, coming to terms with the genuine realities of my family and adjusting to being a man in his early thirties, I once again decided it was time to make a change. Lavender Shores might be home, but it had become a rut. A safety net that no longer seemed to be keeping me safe, but tightened around me. I closed my practice, got a short-term renter for my house, and signed up for a three-month volunteer mission in Kenya.

I thought those few months working with abused women and children in Africa had altered the course of my life. And it had… did… whatever. On the flight back to the US, I mapped out the next few years of my life. It was time for a change. The change. I narrowed it down to either New York or Chicago, start a practice with a similar population of abused women and children.

 Toward the end of my trip, I’d received word that Erica had gotten engaged following a whirlwind romance. Her engagement party was the day after I returned home. And once again, my life changed. Or, didn’t….

I arrived late to the party, though I don’t recall why. It was in full swing. Most of the guests were buzzed, pleasantly so at that point. Erica saw me first and rushed over, pulling a tall man behind her. After her initial hug, she chattered on excitedly, probably telling me how she’d met Spencer Barton and all that had happened since I’d been gone. Honestly, I didn’t hear a word.

In one of those moments, that until then I truly believed only occurred in movies, everything else stood still or faded away, except for Spencer. He was obviously a few years older than Erica, but handsome. So very, very handsome. And so very much my type. I’d never gone for the bad boys; tattoos didn’t do anything for me. Couldn’t understand them, I hated needles. He looked like a corporate Ken doll. All-American face, dark brown hair parted in a conservative style, black suit, expensive shoes, in many ways a carbon copy of every businessman I’d ever seen. That only made more sense later when I found out he was a lawyer. Definitely my type. The type that had been the antithesis of Paulie. I was certain it said horrible things about me, but whenever I turned on porn, it was the kind with handsome businessmen in suits.

All of that wouldn’t have done much. I could’ve shrugged that off. Even with the world stopping its spin on its axis. But then I met his eyes. They were dark blue, crystal clear, and beautiful. But even that wasn’t too big of a hitch. It was the shock I saw in them. Shock that morphed into heat, then fear, then became walled off. I’d seen desire there, even if just for a split second. I was certain of it. We shook hands, and yes, I felt a spark. And again, I saw something flash in his gaze, but then it disappeared behind the wall as well. I didn’t want any aspect of what I was feeling. I wanted to turn tail and run as far away and as fast as I could, shake off whatever connection I’d made up between us.

Then Erica leaned into me once more, whispering in my ear, telling me that she hadn’t told anyone else in the family. She was pregnant. I was going to be an uncle. And for the second time in my life, the second time that night, the world stood still once more.

I didn’t spend the evening reading on the porch after Ethan’s birthday party like I’d planned. Spencer had kissed me.

I rushed into my home and instantly called my therapist. I had to quit spinning in circles. As the story tumbled out, my anxiety around it all both spiked and morphed into something a little less abstract. This was real. It was actually happening.

“He kissed you at Ethan’s birthday party? And he didn’t seem drunk or not in control of his faculties?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“And how does that make you feel?”

I pulled the cell away from my ear and glared at it. “How do you think that makes me feel?”

Dr. Greenwood said something that I couldn’t make out.

I slammed the phone back against my ear. “What?”

“I said that it isn’t for me to label how you feel, and you know that. That’s your job. Dr. Carlisle.”

I managed not to growl. If there was one question I didn’t need to pause to consider, it was that one. “Terrified. Absolutely fucking terrified. Sorry for the language. I’m scared and nervous and have a sense of dread like the sky is falling. Which, I know is complete and utter nonsense, but maybe it’s not.”

There was a long pause before Dr. Greenwood spoke again. “So, the only feelings you’re having are of the negative variety?”

God, I hated therapists. “Of course not. We’ve only talked about Spencer for the past ten years. You know that I’m not only having negative feelings.”

“We’re twenty minutes into our session, Donovan, and I haven’t heard anything but negative feelings, fears, and panic.”

“Isn’t that what I should be feeling?”

“You tell me.” Despite her professionalism, I could hear the smugness in her tone.

“Are you this infuriating with all of your clients?”

“Aren’t you?” She chuckled.

Despite myself, I chuckled along with her. “This is why people hate therapists.”

“Oh, I know. And they have very good reason. We’re awful.”

I sighed and rubbed my temples. “Janice, just tell me what you think. Just this once.”

“I will. But tell me how you feel. Like you said, Spencer’s been the topic of many sessions. I know you have other feelings besides the negative. Explore those with me for a moment, and then I’ll tell you what I think. Even if I shouldn’t.”

With as long as our relationship had gone on, there were moments, like this one, where the lines blurred between therapist and patient and those of a friendship. Similar to the bond I had with Gilbert. Though, not quite as strong. And I knew I was being ridiculous. But if I said the feelings out loud, I’d have to act on them. Which she and I both knew. I rubbed my temples a little harder. It kind of hurt. “Honestly, I have more negative feelings than positive. However, the positives are bigger, or at least more powerful. But if I give into them, all the negatives will become reality. They’re not empty fears. They will happen.”

“Even the sky falling?”

“Yes. Pretty much. Lavender Shores might be a safe haven for everything gay, but I’m a member of a founding family, and this is my sister’s ex-husband. The father of my niece and nephew. And I’m a therapist in town. A respected one. How is this going to look?”

“Well, then I guess you’re going to have to decide what matters more. How you are seen in Lavender Shores, or the kind of life you want.”

It was like she shot an arrow through my heart. No, I realized it wasn’t her words, but the thought of choosing my reputation over Spencer. That was the arrow. “I thought I had to tell you my feelings before you told me what you thought.” I forced out a little laugh.

“So I screwed up, sue me for malpractice.” Dr. Greenwood took on a motherly tone, which was silly as she was a couple of years younger than me, but it worked. “Tell me, Donovan.”

I quit rubbing my temple, as it was, I was probably going to have a bruise. But I kept my eyes closed, picturing Spencer at the beach. The look in his eyes after he’d kissed me. His clear desire, confirming that he wanted me as much as I wanted him. It had been like the sky truly had opened and a light shone down. Revealing a man who I thought I’d known for so long. A man who I cared about, loved, but a man it turned out I didn’t really know. “I feel like the reason I haven’t been satisfied with anyone else, the reason I’ve chosen lonely nights over men that left me cold finally makes sense. I feel like it’s too good to be true. I think that scares me most of all, that the way we feel about each other is real.”

She paused so long this time I wondered if I’d lost the connection. “You love him.”

“Of course I do. You know that.” The answer was instant. It wasn’t even a thought. “I’ve loved him even despite my attraction to him. He’s a good, good man. He’s an amazing father. He’s one of the most patient men I’ve ever seen. I respect and admire him. In truth, there were times over the years that I wished I would see his darker side. That it would allow the spell to break. No one could be that good, that pure. It couldn’t have been real, and I knew it. And if it were, there’s no way he’d want me. Not that it mattered. He was with Erica. There was no possibility of anything.” I quit talking, suddenly breathless.

“And now?” She knew the answer to that. But just like I would with a client, she was going to make me say the words.

“And now… there’s the possibility.” Could it be real? More than frenzied emotion and lust? “At least it feels that way. But what if it’s nothing more than years of heat building between us. What if we start things and everything falls apart?”

“You just said you love him.”

I froze. “Yeah. I do. But, that’s not enough, is it? It’s not like we’ve got a fresh start or clean slate. Can you imagine anything more complicated?”

“You really don’t think you deserve to be happy, do you, Donovan?”

I flinched, but couldn’t respond.

She remained quiet. Though I heard her sniff. Maybe she was crying. I felt close to it myself.

“Are you okay, Dr. Greenwood?”

She cleared her throat. “Do you still want to know what else I think?”

“Yes, please.”

“I’m wondering what the hell you’re doing still on the phone talking to me.”

The next morning, work was a special sort of hell. After talking to Dr. Greenwood, I wanted time to sit and think. To journal. To go over every detail and take count of each pro and con. Each cost to Spencer, the family, myself, if I chose to leap and pursue Spencer. Give in to the desire I’d had for years. Figure out what the exact cost might be.

If the cost might be losing Spencer entirely.

Instead, there was work to be done. Other people’s problems to focus on.

Person after person. They told me their insecurities, their fears, their hurts.

They walked in, sat down, spent fifty minutes emptying their souls, paid me, then walked out.

Each one trusting I could help them, or at the very least be alongside them.

I’d learned years ago to not expect perfection from myself. I didn’t need to be perfect to help others. I didn’t even have to be strong, not all the time. But I did need to be present. To set myself aside and truly be there for my clients.

By the time I got home, I felt even worse.

The idea of sitting down and making lists, of talking myself into falling into Spencer sounded impossible. Or was I supposed to convince myself to walk away from Spencer?

Exactly. If I wasn’t sure which way I was supposed to lean, I was in no place to start. I needed to be clear.

I changed into my running clothes, uploaded the new Dean Koontz audiobook, and went for a jog.

Maybe I should’ve gotten up in the middle of the night before and gone for a run. Maybe I’d already have clarity if I had. Within ten minutes, the mixture of getting lost to the story and the beauty of nature did what nothing else had been able to do. I often ran through the streets of Lavender Shores, but, instead, I chose the trails of the national reserve that surrounded the town. I wanted to avoid people. It was the right choice. With the narrator’s voice weaving a tale in my ears, I ran through narrow trails in the forest, past pines, meadows filled with flowers, a couple small herds of elk, then alongside the seashore. I ran, ran, and ran. After a while, I removed the headphones from my ears. I ran until there was nothing other than the evening sun sinking in the horizon, the blur of nature, and the soothing rush of air over my senses.

I didn’t stop running until I came to the walk leading up to my house. I paused, sucking in deep breaths, relishing the magic of endorphins. I was going to hurt later. Probably not all that much later. My muscles would burn and my joints would ache, but it would be worth it. I’d take a bath with Epsom salts, turn my audiobook back on, and refuse to let one bit of my reality into my head.

I didn’t see Spencer until I was at the foot of my steps. The motion of the swing from the far side of the porch caught my eye. He gave a little wave. “Hi.”

My heart tested its ability to increase its rate without exploding at the sight of him.

“I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have come.” Spencer stood and walked across the porch.

I realized I hadn’t responded to his greeting. I hurried up the steps and stopped him before he began his way down. “No, it’s totally fine that you’re here, of course. Sorry, I was just a little caught off guard.” Another thought hit me, and I glanced down at my sweat-soaked tank top and running shorts. “Shit, I probably smell like a locker room. I just went on the longest run of my life.”

When I glanced back up, I noticed Spencer’s gaze travel over my body. His tongue darted out over his lower lip before he looked at me again. There was desire and heat in his gaze. I could see him try to wall it off, but he didn’t succeed.

“I didn’t want to bother you or interrupt your night. I just thought maybe we should chat. I think I might’ve gotten five minutes of sleep last night. And I kinda had a feeling tonight would be the same unless I was a little bit more proactive.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, although darkly. “And I thought I was the therapist.” He gave me a puzzled expression, and I elaborated. “I didn’t sleep well myself last night. I chose about every option available besides being proactive.” I motioned to my body. “And as you can see, I chose running as one more distraction.”

“So….” He glanced around the porch, his gaze lighting everywhere, darting to mine, then away again. “Should we talk?”

It was a good thing that I was already drenched, otherwise I probably would’ve sweated through my clothes in that instant. For once, with Spencer at least, I chose to be honest. “We should definitely talk, although, the thought of that scares me to death.”

This time Spencer laughed. “Yeah, me too. Believe me.”

“Sorry. I’m not really sure how to handle this.”

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t either, but, like you said, you’re the therapist. I thought you might have some ideas.”

“You know, I would’ve thought the same thing. Turns out, we’re both wrong. I have no fucking clue.”

Spencer let out a long shaky breath. “That makes me feel a little bit better, strangely.”

I motioned toward the front door. “Why don’t you come in?”

“Worried about someone seeing us?”

Was I? “No, you can stay right here if you want. Just relax, let me shower and change clothes. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Help yourself to some wine or tea or something if you’d like.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Spencer looked nervous, hesitated again, then walked back toward the swing while I unlocked the front door and went inside.

I paused after I shut the door, simply trying to breathe. This was happening. This was real. Spencer was right there on my porch. I’d wanted him for a decade, and now we were going to talk. No time for lists and weighing the pros and cons.

It was time to act. To go after what I wanted. Wasn’t it?

I hurried to my bedroom, stripped, snagged a fresh change of clothes, and got into the shower.

Though the water didn’t solve anything, it cleared my mind a little bit. This was going to be okay. We were two adult men. Two intelligent, kind, professional adult men. We could figure this out. The world wouldn’t end. Lavender Shores wouldn’t crumble. And more than that, Spencer and I could handle whichever way this thing went. But what if it went well? Really, really well? What if all these years of longing were more than just longing?

I stayed under the warm spray a little bit more than I normally would’ve, both taking comfort from the heat and still trying to hash through what needed to be said and what possible plan we would come up with to try to make better choices.

The scrape of metal caused me to jump, and I looked over to see the shower curtain being pulled away. Spencer stood there, naked. I gaped at him and couldn’t keep my gaze from roaming over his body. I’d almost forgotten what his chest and stomach had looked like revealed from his costume the few days before. He’d lost weight since his divorce. Part of why I hadn’t recognized him instantly. His new body was sculpted and smooth. And still waxed clean of hair. I’d always been attracted to his body, even when it had been in its dad form. He definitely didn’t have a dad’s body now. However, the lower portion of him I’d never seen. I stared, probably open-jawed, at his cock. It was long, thick, veiny, and cut. And it was fully erect, and already leaking a trail of precome. Finally, I forced my gaze up to his.

Despite the heat in his eyes, his voice was nervous. “Sorry, I couldn’t wait on the porch any longer.”