Dirty Laundry: A Tucker Springs Novel #3

I don’t want to dither, and I’m not—I’m close, but I’m not doing it yet. I want to hold onto that. Except I—” His voice broke, and he took a moment to steady himself and wipe away new tears. “I don’t want to lose him, but I’d rather lose him than have something fucked up again.”
    Louisa hugged him again and this time gave him a kiss. “Oh, honey. That is so good , that you get that. I hope your therapist has praised you for that too.”
    Adam shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t have an appointment until Friday.”
    “Surely this situation warrants a special meeting.”
    Adam shifted again, and his sense of unease at having Louisa in his home began to swell. “I don’t want to talk to her about it. I don’t want to go into everything we’ve been doing. She’s not been great about the BDSM thing, and—”
    Louisa put a hand on his leg, stilling him. “Sweetheart, do you trust me?”
    Adam tensed. “I really, really don’t want to tell her—”
    “I know, hon. Do you trust me enough to recommend you a new therapist?”
    “Oh God.” Adam began to feel not just uneasy but queasy. “I don’t like switching therapists.”
    She moved her hand to his back and began to massage again. “I know. But you’re with the wrong one if you need to talk about Denver but can’t with her. And I get that it’s hard, that going to someone new is very stressful, worse in concept than staying with the wrong one. If you’ll let me, I’ll help you find someone who is kink-friendly. In fact, I have someone in mind. He’s trans, though, in case that matters.”
    Adam pulled back and glared at her. “Louisa, why would I care about that?”
    “I know, but I had to check. It’s okay, by the way, if it would be hard for you. It’s important to be comfortable with your therapist.”
    It wasn’t okay to be a bigot, he wanted to argue back, but he was so tired and strung out, he just sagged back into the couch. She was right, he needed a new therapist. It hadn’t even occurred to him to look for a “kink-friendly” one. Did they put that in their yellow pages ad?
    “If you need to think about it first, that’s okay too,” she said when his silence went on too long.
    He shook his head. “No. You’re right. And . . . yes, I trust you, especially in this.”
    She squeezed his hand. “I’ll set it up. If you want, I can go with you, either just to drive you or to sit in on the initial session. You can change your mind on that all the way up until the last second too. Okay?”
    He leaned into her again, lacing his fingers tighter into hers. It occurred to him, and to his OCD too, that it was very nice, all this touching and hugging they’d been doing, and it seemed like they were both more able to do so in the privacy of a home. So many things were better this way, even if it did jangle all his internal switches. He’d been so looking forward to having Denver over, to building that bridge with him. That he hadn’t been the first one Adam had invited, that he wasn’t sure right now if Denver would ever be coming over, made him feel so black and dark he wanted to drug himself into a coma and live in his bed. He was already living on so much Xanax right now he was paranoid, calling his pharmacy every half an hour as he thought of another variable that might affect his inevitable addiction.
    He hated that he was such a mess without Denver, and the more he stewed in that, the more it upset him. Was this going to be the same as the thing with Brad, no matter what? Could he not be with someone and be okay? Was it bad to be doing the sub thing with Denver? Maybe it felt good while it was happening, but maybe it made him sicker in the long run? Should he stop being with anyone altogether and focus on being healthier alone first?
    The questions swirled in his head, weighed him down further on the couch, and he shut his eyes, swimming deeper in his despair.
    Louisa kissed his hair. “I’ll call Sig and get you in as soon as I can, hon, I promise.”
    I love you, Louisa , Adam thought, but was too weak to say it, so he simply nodded and leaned in harder against her. As his OCD gave way to the unease of having her there, breaking like a dam with too much behind it, he tried for a moment to decide if that was progress or a sign he was one step away from hospitalization, then decided he was too exhausted even for that and closed his eyes, willing the world, save Louisa, to go away.

    Later that day, Denver