“You read books to debunk the shrinky stuff?” Mark blinked at her over his mug.
“Uh-huh, I mean, a girl’s got to get her kicks from somewhere, eh?” She winked at him, then closed the book, shaking her head. “My partner is in Puerto Rico, helping with the rebuilding, and she likes to research books for me on her free time.”
“That’s you guys’ definition of fun?”
“Yeah, we’re weird, and it’s not just the queer thing.” She smiled at him, showing teeth, but the smile wasn’t completely friendly.
Mark lowered his gaze and his mug, and then picked up the mug again to have something in his hands.
“Look, Mark, I think I have a pretty good idea what’s going on with you. You’re like a can of Coke and someone or something has just shaken you. If you want to talk about it, off the record, just to get it off your chest, let me know.”
“I don’t want—”
“Therapy, yes, I figured. But there’s something eating you and I can be a… a friend with therapeutic benefits?” She smiled at him again, this time even kinder than before. “A lot of people use that diamonds-under-pressure shit as an analogy for when things go bad. Like you’re supposed to just hang in there and you’ll be good on the other side. Endure whatever and you’ll become a diamond in the end.” She frowned.
“You don’t agree with that?”
“No. I think that when you bottle shit up, you’ll end up exploding. Or imploding. And neither ‘ploding is good. So, give me a call. Even if you hate me for being queer, I want to help.” She got up and gathered her stuff.
“I don’t hate y—”
“Really? That’s surprising.” She tilted her head in a way that was eerily Francis-like. “You could’ve fooled me, and apparently you managed to fool about eighty percent of the LGBTQ population of this town last summer.”
Mark flushed. He felt so fucking ashamed, still.
“I don’t think you’re a bad guy, Forrest. I just think you might need help understanding that.”
With those words, she slid a business card across the table, and marched to the counter to pay.
Mark knew what she meant, at least he thought he did. Part of him wanted nothing more than to talk through the shit he’d been carrying in his brain and his heart since childhood, but he wasn’t ready. Not yet. And he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be.
Chapter Four
It turned out that Padraig was well on his way to happy. It was clear for anyone to see. The way he looked at Kaos was… well, it reminded Francis of the way Padraig had looked at Marcus years and years ago. And then there was Hestia, a pitbull/husky puppy Padraig had adopted. It was the first dog in the veterinarian’s house, ever, and that was a sign for Francis that Padraig was finally moving on.
Francis was happy for his friend. Kaos was a breath of fresh air, an incredibly talented artist who could hold an intelligent conversation not many people his age could. Of course, it turned out that there was a reason for that, a reason for the way Kaos was old for his age. Once again, Francis felt an odd sort of empathy toward someone who had gotten dealt a shitty hand more than once in his life.
The closer Thanksgiving got and the more days he spent with the new couple, the more Francis started to feel as if he was missing something. This time of the year had always been his mom’s favorite, and after she passed a year or so before Marcus, well, it hadn’t been the same.
When he was given Padraig and Kaos’s potential plans for the holiday—going to Padraig’s sister Mary’s house, or to Kaos’s best friend Makai’s partner’s family—he gathered his courage and asked them if they could have a new kind of Thanksgiving. Something of theirs, something the tentative new and reacquainted family could form into a new tradition.
Luckily the guys agreed, but that meant braving snowy roads for about an hour each away from Acker. That was where the best grocery stores were, and since they were going to feast, that was where they’d go.
Because Padraig had to work, Kaos and Francis told him to take Hestia with him to the clinic while they’d go to do the shopping. While the pitsky was fine with the temperatures inside the car, they still preferred not to leave her out there for long. Besides, people in Wisconsin were very keen on “rescuing” dogs by breaking windows, even when they were perfectly fine with the conditions.
As soon as they hit the road after leaving her at the clinic, Kaos glanced at Francis and grinned. “We left her with Padraig because you’re thinking about doing more shopping than just the food.”
Francis grinned, keeping his eyes on the road. “Oh yes…. Retail therapy for the win!”
Kaos chuckled and turned on the radio. Once they were on the road, properly outside town, he became more thoughtful.
“What’s wrong?” Francis asked, glancing at him.
“Nothing, I just…. I’m worried about you.”
“Me?” Francis let out a disbelieving sound. “Why me?”
“I don’t know what’s going on back home. I don’t like the fact that you have to return there.” Kaos seemed genuinely worried, so Francis sighed and turned the radio down.
