Dirty Laundry: A Tucker Springs Novel #3

washing machine. “Well. We could do the double-dating, but the other might be a problem. And actually, I been meaning to pick your brain about that.”
    El raised an eyebrow. “He has a thing against barbecues? Patios? If he’s vegetarian or something, we can work with that.”
    “No.” Denver grimaced and glanced around the room to ensure they were alone, which they were. “The thing is, he’s funny about coming over to my place. And I can’t go to his. At all.”
    “What the hell?” El demanded.
    Denver held up a hand. “No. Don’t. There’s something more to it, I can tell. I work hard not to bring it up, but last night I suggested very casually we have dinner at my place, thinking we could have us some nice dessert on the couch, and you’d think I asked him to go to a war zone. And that’s just the thing. It’s like it scares him.”
    “And it’s not sex?”
    “Fuck no.” Denver got hard just thinking about all the creative places they’d had sex. “It’s something about my place. Or his place.” He paused, hating that he had to voice this out loud, to share Adam’s business with El, but he needed advice on this. “I think something happened to him. I think somebody abused him or freaked him out bad. Because it’s about being alone in an apartment with me. I don’t think it’s me , either. I think it’s guys he’s dating, period.”
    “You said he had another boyfriend, an ex that was driving you batshit.”
    “Yeah, and I think he might be part of the problem. It’s bigger than that, though, I swear. But something’s up, that I know. I can’t figure out how to get around it. I don’t want to bring it up and upset him. But I can tell it’s the elephant in the room, that our not going to each other’s places is upsetting him because he thinks it’ll upset me. What the fuck do I do, El?”
    El leaned against a set of dryers and looked thoughtful. “That’s a tough one. You probably need to let him bring it up. Nothing says you can’t lay the groundwork, though. Make sure he hears you saying you’re understanding, or some shit like that.”
    “I been trying.”
    “It might just take some time.”
    “Yeah.” Denver dumped the soap into his machine, punched it up to start, and watched the water gush into the clothes through the door. The thing he’d been thinking about for a week now rolled around in his head like the clothes in front of him until finally it spilled out of his mouth. “I was thinking maybe it would help him if I told him something about me.”
    El paused before speaking carefully and casually. “You mean, something sensitive?”
    Denver hooked his thumbs in his belt loops, keeping his eyes on the machine. “Something about me kind of like what I think happened to him.”
    The confession hung in the air, heavy and awkward. He and El were buds. They didn’t talk about this kind of stuff. They flipped each other’s shit and used each other to avoid things like responsibilities and reality. Even now with El doing the grown-up thing of cohabitation, they were still each other’s escape. Just that simple statement felt like a violation of some unspoken agreement that they’d keep things light.
    Denver hoped to hell it was okay.
    “I think,” El said after a long silence, all traces of his usual sarcasm gone, “it might not be a bad idea. But that you should only do it if you feel like it would help you too. There isn’t much worse than not being ready for something and doing it for someone else for the wrong reasons.”
    Denver couldn’t help stealing a glance at El’s arms, looking for the now ubiquitous nicotine patches.
    El laughed, but it was almost sad. “And then sometimes there are things we’ll never be ready for but do anyway, because they’re important to the people we love.”
    Laughing too, Denver eased off the machine and nodded to the benches. “Come on. I want to hear how Paul’s exam went and all the naughty little ways you celebrated.”
    “You know I can’t kiss and tell,” El replied.
    “If you do, I’ll tell you what I did to Adam behind the ice cream shop.”
    Both of El’s eyebrows went up this time. He headed over to the bench, but as he did so, he replied, “Deal.”

    Adam clutched at his too-hot mug of tea, grounding himself in the scalding sensation against his palms. “I have to tell him.”
    He didn’t have to look up to see Louisa’s frown. He could hear it. “I thought we went over this. Several