Nic had to get himself a therapist.

It wasn’t like he was having a mental health breakdown—he’d been through those before and survived relatively unscathed, all things considered. But he’d meant to do it as soon as he moved, and he’d been putting it off for the last few weeks.

And since it seemed like he was in the middle of tangling himself with an unavailable man, and nothing was stopping his seemingly solved abandonment issues from being jolted back to life, it was the smart thing to do.

He hated staring at the list of therapists he’d been given by his old therapist, who’d written him a referral note and a list of therapists to try. Nic had grown accustomed to phone conversations after his voice broke, but his anxiety about them lingered. He didn’t like talking on the phone when email was faster and more efficient.

Still, it was the only way to find a good therapist. Few worked by email. He resigned himself to the task and kicked back on the couch, his cellphone in one hand and the list of numbers in the other.

Nic had to find someone who was trans-friendly—not just tolerant, but knowledgeable enough to want to write a surgery referral note, since phalloplasty was still on the table for him.

Metoidioplasty, the kind of surgery he’d already had, formed a small phallus of a couple inches, but it was all from existing bio dick tissue—which meant full natural erections, but not much thickness for penetration.

On the other hand, phalloplasty would give him a dick more the size of a cis guy’s, and he’d be able to penetrate and probably retain sexual sensation once it came back. It would sure make it easier to pee at urinals, but the sensation of erection wouldn’t be quite as natural since he’d need a pump or a rod if he wanted erections. That was why he’d avoided it.

It was a lot to talk about with a therapist, but he’d built enough of a bond with his last therapist that he trusted her and worked with her to get his referrals.

Plus, whoever it was had to be okay with gay issues and know enough that they could talk about his abandonment problems, and his feeling of not quite fitting into the community. He didn’t like talking about those feelings, but sometimes he found them at the root of seemingly unrelated problems.

It wasn’t like he hated therapy. He’d worked out so many of his issues with it, and he thought being proactive about it was good.

But setting up appointments to go under the knife had him anxious, even if booking the surgery itself was several steps in the future, past his appointments with this new therapist and other people, and… one step at a time.

One little step, that was all it would take.

He drew a breath, half-closed his eyes, and dialed the number before he could chicken out.

“Hello.” It was a statement, not a question.

“O-Oh. Hi. My name’s Nic Montero—”

“Are you a patient of the practice?” The secretary’s voice was so abrupt that it made him flinch.

“Um. N-Not yet. I…”

“Dr. Lacks is only taking referrals at this time.” He sounded so casually dismissive, like he was expecting Nic to stutter and hang up.

Whoa. That’s an attitude and a half. He’d learned the hard way, too, that a good therapist was not worth putting up with a bad admin assistant.

“Okay. I guess this isn’t the practice for me. Have a good one.” Nic hung up without waiting for a response and let out a shuddery breath. “What a dick.”

The second clinic didn’t answer, but by the third name on the list, he struck gold.

“Hello, Dr. Barnard’s practice, how can I help?”

“H-Hi. My name is Nic Montero. I was a patient of another therapist out in Minneapolis, Dr. Calvin. She recommended that I talk to you guys about becoming a new patient now that I’ve moved here.”

“Well, welcome to L.A., honey! We’d be glad to have you as a patient!”

Even the pet name wasn’t demeaning or dismissive like it would have been back home. She sounded warm and genuine, and it made him relax and breathe a quick sigh. “Great. That’s awesome. Um, I guess I’ll make an initial appointment, then.”

The secretary—Mary-Ann—was efficient but kind, letting him know the therapist’s fees, insurance coverage, and schedule. Before he knew it, he had a first appointment booked and a friendly rapport with Mary-Ann over the spelling of her name—he spelled Nicolas without an H or K, and she spelled Mary-Ann with a hyphen and no E. Most people tried to insert unwanted characters into their names, and Nic found himself laughing over it.

“So, we’ll see you next week, Nic. Looking forward to meeting you!” Mary-Ann told him.

“Thanks so much. Have a great one.”

“Why, thank you. You too, hon!”

Nic found himself smiling with the weight of one more burden lifted from his shoulders. He was doing pretty okay at this whole moving thing.

Time to rummage through the cupboards for chocolate and reward himself for making those calls.