Dirty Laundry: A Tucker Springs Novel #3

they’re all back in South Dakota.”
    “I’ll happily fill the OCD void, if you’re accepting applicants for that position.”
    She pushed at his knee teasingly, but Adam saw a softness and even mistiness in her eyes. “I’ll gladly take a friend who happens to have OCD, yes.” She retrieved her latte. “But we were talking about you. I heard all about your ex. Now I want to hear about this hulky muscle man from the laundromat.”
    Adam cradled his tea mug, staring wistfully into it. “God. He’s a fucking house, he’s so big, and he’s so sexy it hurts. He works at Lights Out as a bouncer.”
    Louisa raised an eyebrow. “Is he—how shall I put it delicately—a simple man?”
    “You mean is he dumb as a box of rocks? No. Not at all. I mean, I don’t know that he’d rival Stephen Hawking in any way, but he’s grounded like I’ve never seen anyone. Easygoing, but nothing gets by him. He’s so nice, too. Last night he brought me dinner, fended off Brad without so much as raising his voice, then arranged for me to go out with some of his friends so I could relax. But he monitored my drinking so I didn’t get hungover for this thing I had to do this morning, and he made sure I got home.”
    “Well, if he makes you happy, I say mazel tov .”
    Adam sipped his tea, then voiced the worry that had been weighing on him all week. “He doesn’t know about my OCD. I worry what he’ll think when I tell him.”
    “Why do you have to tell him? It’s not communicable. Let it come up when it comes up.”
    “Yes, but there’s one very knotty problem.” He’d started tapping again, and this time he stilled himself, though his mental tapping didn’t quit. “One of my tics is that I have a problem with people being in each other’s spaces, particularly in places of residence. I can sort of fake it in someone else’s house, but not in mine. It was a huge issue when I lived with the Bug Boys. I could handle it if they were with their guests, but if I found a girl by herself in the kitchen in the morning? Full-on panic. There were a lot of fights over it.”
    “So go to his house.”
    Adam bit his lip. “I don’t know. I fake it when I’m in someone else’s house. I’m not relaxed. I worry about what’s plugged in and what isn’t, whether or not things are on that shouldn’t be. I know things are messed up and out of order, and it upsets me. Normally it ends there, but I have no idea how I’m supposed to make out with someone when I know the soup cans aren’t alphabetized by type and the shoelaces are all sloppy in the closet. If they’re even in the closet at all.”
    Louisa frowned thoughtfully. “Yes, you’re right. That’s a tricky one. Well, sit with it. Don’t panic. Strategize. Do you have a therapist here in town? Have you brought this up?”
    No, he hadn’t. He could only imagine what she’d say if she heard about Denver. “I’m afraid she won’t like how I met him.”
    “Then you get another therapist.” Louisa’s hand closed over his again. “You can also take your time and let this unfold as it will.”
    Though the words nearly gagged him, Adam voiced the fear that lay beneath all the others. “I’m afraid he won’t stay interested long enough for me to figure it out.”
    “Then he isn’t worthy of you, Adam.” Louisa squeezed his hand. “Try trusting that he’ll be patient and that you’re worth the wait.”
    Adam laughed bitterly. “You do know OCD is the doubting disease, right?”
    “Yes. But I also know its sufferers take comfort in abstract rituals. Dunking your teabag four times isn’t going to make him wait any more than telling yourself in the mirror every morning that he is going to change things. You might as well adopt the habit that has the potential to serve you.”
    Adam nodded, then turned his hand to squeeze hers back. “Okay, here’s the real reason you can’t hate Brad: if he hadn’t goaded me into an attack, we wouldn’t have met, and I’m starting to think that would be a real tragedy. At least for me.”
    She smiled. “For me too.”

    The first thing Denver did when he called Adam on Sunday afternoon was ask him about his laundry. He almost hadn’t, but something about the way Adam had kept talking about it when Denver put him in El’s car Friday night, the way he kept trying to drunkenly plot out when he’d do the rest of it and the merits and disadvantages of each time—well, Denver had decided it wouldn’t be bad to