There, we’d exchanged pleasantries. Now what? I stared at my best friend, and he sighed.
“Want to get better coffee?” he asked.
I nodded, setting down my half-empty cup. Yeah.”
The coffee shop, Beanz, was a cozy, bustling space filled with the scent of fresh espresso and warm pastries. The wooden counters gleamed under soft lighting, and the low hum of conversation created a comforting background noise. I spotted Daniel—Sgt. Daniel Rivera was a former Marine Corpsman and one of Guardian Hall’s success stories. He had once been a guest at the shelter, struggling to rebuild his life. Now, he filled most of his working hours at the coffee shop as an assistant manager and volunteered a few spare hours at the library he’d grown to love.
“Look who it is,” Daniel says, smirking as he leaned against the counter. “Alex and Dr. Marcus, gracing us with their presence. Should I be concerned?”
I rolled my eyes, playing along. “Just looking for decent coffee and maybe some peace. Think you can help with that?”
Daniel chuckled, already scribbling down my usual order. “Sure, but peace is extra. And I don’t do refunds.”
Alex shook his head beside me. “Make that two.And bring it over when you’re done playing barista of the year.”
Daniel grinned, shooting back a playful salute. “You got it.”
We took our drinks and headed to our usual corner table; the one tucked away near the window where we could watch the world go by without being part of it. The place felt safe and familiar. But something about Alex sitting across from me with that look on his face, told me I wouldn’t be able to avoid the coming conversation.
“Is everything okay?” Alex asked, his voice calm but probing. But I knew what he wasreallyasking. He was asking about alcohol, about drugs, about the moment I’d lost everything and the point when I’d clawed it back. My graduation. My work with him. In a single question, he was checking in on all of it.
I hesitated, forcing a breath, plastering on the easy lie I’d perfected over the years. “Yeah,” I said, my voice steady.
I was lying. And he knew it.
“But…”
“It’s Tyler.”
He nodded and sat back in the chair, exhaling as he studied me. “Look, if you’re blaming yourself,you need to stop. None of us could have seen it coming. We all knew Tyler was struggling but knowing and preventing are two different things.”
“It’s not that. I mean, it is that. We all should have seen it and done more, but…” The words weren’t coming out right.
The silence stretched between us, but Alex was patient and waited.
“Yeah,” I said because that was the only word I could get out.
“You said in the meeting that he was medically cleared—so what about him?” He paused, measuring his words. “What’sreallyon your mind?
“I’m attracted to Tyler,” I began, rubbing the back of my neck and feeling the weight of Alex’s shock. “And before you say it, it’s not just about responsibility. It’s more than that. I can’t stop thinking about him. It’s—” I broke off, exhaling.
Alex’s expression didn’t shift. But I saw the understanding there, in the way his gaze sharpened. He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “You want to protect him,” he said, as though that summed it up as if it werethateasy.
I shook my head. “It’s not just that.”
He sighed, tilting his head as he studied me. “It makes sense, Marcus. After the rooftop, he wasvulnerable, completely dependent on you. That kind of need? It’s intense. And you’re wired to react to people in crisis. You always have been. That’s why you’re good at what you do. But that doesn’t mean what you’re feeling is…” He trailed off, searching for the right word. “Real.”
My jaw tightened. “It feels real.”
He leaned forward, his expression shifting from casual to focused. He wasn’t just speaking as my friend now—this was Alex, the counselor, the man who had spent years studying human behavior, and his voice was calm but firm.
“Marcus,” he said, his tone steady, “you have to step back and ask yourself—are you feeling this because of who Tyler is or what he represents? Tyler needed you, and you stepped in. It’s natural to get attached when someone relies on you that much. But that’s not the same thing as—” he gestured vaguely “—something sustainable. Something healthy.”
I let his words settle, trying not to flinch at how much they stung. He was giving me a logical, clinical explanation, breaking it down into psychology and patterns, as if that made it easier to ignore the way Tyler made me feel.
It was more than attraction. I thought abouthim in all the quiet spaces when I should have been focused on other things.
This is ridiculous. Alex is right. I’m letting emotions cloud my judgment. I’m making a mess of this.
