Summer Sweat (Spruce Texas)

“Uh, of course I am.”

“And what do you think people thought of me and Chad? Do you even know how many pushy people out there nosed into my relationship, telling me I was an idiot for forgiving Chad for all the hell he put me through in high school? That I’m a doormat, that I let him walk all over me, that we shouldn’t be together? Know what I say to all of those people? Fuck them. They don’t know me. They don’t have the experiences I have, nor the backbone, nor the heart in my chest. This is my story. Not theirs. They don’t get to write it. I do. This is the man I fell in love with, and who in the fuck are they to judge?” Lance rises from his chair and sits on the desk next to me. “You have to follow your heart, Harrison. That’s the point. No matter what. The heart leads us to where we belong. The mind tries to hold us back with puritanical-ass reasoning that was forced on us by others who have not walked in our shoes. It’s an age-old war of passion and duty, isn’t it? Ask any gay grandpa on his deathbed what he’d rather have done with his life. The answer is always to have followed his heart more.”

I glance at the floor. “That’s a lot to think about.”

“Don’t be overwhelmed, Harrison, my adorable hunky friend. Just listen to me. Actually, no. Listen to your heart.” He puts a hand on my chest. “Who does it beat for? Who does it race for? Late at night, when all you got is a brain full of thoughts, who does your heart ache for? Listen to it, Harrison.”

We both look up when we hear a distant door closing with a heavy bang—likely the front door. Gary must be back.

“Also … and I speak from experience here … it may be a totally perfect sign if you and cutie-pie didn’t get along at first,” says Lance as the pair of us stare at the glass doors, waiting for Gary to appear, like a countdown. “If cutie-pie makes you want to scream, even better.” He chuckles, as if remembering something himself. “And if he absolutely infuriates you to the point that you’re pretty sure you want to kill him … then he just might be the one.”

I take hold of Lance’s hand, still on my chest, and smile. “You are a great friend. Truly. I wish we did this sooner.”

“Your heart started racing like crazy the moment I described him, by the way.”

I turn to him.

He faces me, too. “The answer seems pretty damned obvious to me.” He winks. “Also, it sounds like cutie-pie infuriates you a great deal. Now that’s true love, if I ever heard it. Maybe he even infuriates you worse than Chad ever infuriated me. Yikes.” Lance hops off the desk. “You might be in trouble.”

Gary appears at the glass doors. When he opens them, he lets out a delighted murmur of surprise. “Lance, what a pleasure!”

“Mr. Strong, hello, hello! I won’t be long. I just have a delivery for you from my annoying husband. It’s in my car.”

“Sounds lovely. Harrison?” Gary lifts his eyebrows at me. “Hi there! Did you need something? Or—?”

I can’t for the life of me remember why I came here to see Gary in the first place. Suddenly, it doesn’t matter; I feel light as air, like I can do anything. “Nope.” I join the pair of them. “But I think I’ll help unload this delivery.”

Lance smiles, then eyes Gary. “Isn’t he such a gentleman?”

Chapter 24

Hoyt

One moment, I’m the bumbling new guy, overwhelmed with the giant space and the clanging noise of weights crashing and the shouting children from the trampolines.

A tiny week later, I’m racing around like I run the place. They have me hosting kids’ birthday parties already. I cover at the front desk some mornings, answering the phones and signing up new members. Yesterday, I got CPR certified. And after a small mishap with a workout machine that I was miraculously able to fix—on account of a tiny trick I learned on the farm from Turtle, no less—I am now the designated go-to guy for oddball techy jobs.

It’s amazing how fast I integrated into this place.

I have so much damned purpose here, I didn’t even realize it was possible for me to feel so useful.

The moment it’s five o’clock, I hurry to the employee lounge, clock out, then change out of my uniform. Soon, I’m rushing to the front doors in a fresh pair of clothes, where I wave at Rhea at the receptionist desk. She waves back. “Lookin’ good, Nowak!” Yes, she recovered from the devastating news the day of my interview. Then off I go out the doors.