Dirty Laundry: A Tucker Springs Novel #3

kept getting into his face. “It is, and I’m going to stand here and bully you until you get that.” She grimaced and motioned to herself. “Look, babe, I’m living proof that bodies and brains do not come perfect by the hand of some divine being. They fuck up, sometimes because of the way we came, sometimes because of things that happened, and sometimes who the fuck knows why. People who don’t have that experience are actually very, very rare, though most of our physical and mental misfires come with nice social packaging. So yours doesn’t. Big fucking deal. It doesn’t change the fact that it’s actually no different from anyone else’s except for that, and like everybody else who gets a cross to bear that doesn’t sit well with the rest of society, you have to find your way to cope, or you can sit in the corner and mope and use it as the excuse for why you don’t live your life, as your shield against being brave enough to take life on and let it kick you around a little. And before you start whining at me about how hard it is, I’m going to warn you that I don’t have a ton of empathy. I’m sorry, but I have you beat no matter how you want to stack shit up.”
    As if to drive that point home, by the end of that tirade, Louisa’s voice had pitched so male it was almost jarring. That, combined with her height and natural strength—well. Denver held up his hands. “You’re right. And I know, I’m being an ass.” He sat down again, but this time he looked up at her. “I just—this is hard for me, okay? This has never been easy for me. And I want to be strong for Adam, but I can’t.” He stopped and let that sink in, hating it for being the truth but knowing he had to swallow it whole, to make peace with this or things would never be right. “This makes me feel vulnerable, and I hate feeling vulnerable.”
    “Are you trying to tell me you think he won’t want you if you’re vulnerable?” When Denver had to look away at that, she snorted. “Okay, I’ll grant you that you might be just a little stupid, but it doesn’t have anything to do with a learning disability.”
    Denver swallowed hard. “For the record,” he said slowly, “just because I’m big outside doesn’t mean I don’t feel small sometimes inside.”
    “Fair point.” Her voice was much softer now, and it soothed him. “But if you really think Adam would reject you, you truly don’t know him at all.”
    “Yeah, well, he don’t have exclusive rights on anxiety and irrational fears.” He sat up straighter, though, feeling like he had a little of his shit together again after his confession. “So. Since you’re so full of opinions, you got any on how I should go about fixing this?”
    Her smile made her eyes dance. “As a matter of fact, I do. Start by texting him.”
    “I can’t,” Denver said, and she held up a hand.
    “You can. You have to, because he needs it.”
    “What do I say ?”
    “How about starting with the obvious?”
    Denver thought about this a moment. Then he shook his head, pulled out his phone, and texted two painful, heavy little words.
    I’m sorry.

The new therapist, to Adam’s relief, was great. To be honest, Adam thought the fact that he was trans only added to his understanding, like maybe only someone who had traversed the gender line could have the kind of empathy he did. Sig got some of the challenges of being male that the best educated and most well-meaning female therapists never could, and yet he had the same kind of empathy and instinctive compassion that in Adam’s vast therapeutic experience came a little easier to women. Maybe that was his own set of stereotypes talking, but whatever it was, he was glad for it, because Sig was on track to being the best therapist Adam had ever had.
    They’d only met the once, but already Adam felt anchored, like he had a home base now where he could go and talk about pretty much anything: OCD, anxiety, sex, how much he wanted to be tied up and fucked and how that need both excited and scared him, and how he worried that giving up control to Denver was a cop-out, though he secretly longed for that release. They’d barely touched on that last one, because it had taken him the whole session to work up to it, but Sig had given him some good nuggets to chew on, and Adam had certainly been gnawing on what he’d offered.
    “Embracing one’s sexuality runs deeper than simple orientation, and when there are kinks involved, practices which