Page 92 of Pretty ’n Peak

Austin grabbed his stuff out of the truck bed.

Mateo gave him one last hug. A manly bro-hug with a slap on the back, that was both sweet and painful because it wasn’t who Mateo was at all. Or at least not all of who he was.

And then Mateo was gone.

***

Austin rubbed his hands over his face, trying to relieve the strain on his eyes. He’d thought that things would get back to normal after the Cuffd Destination weekend, and in a way they had.

He hadn’t texted Mateo at all, but then, Mateo hadn’t texted him either.

He was still working long hours and going back to an empty apartment.

But now the days seemed endless, and he got frustrated at the smallest things.

Like the code in front of him.

He was once again racing against the clock because some higher-up had over-promised on a new roll-out schedule.

But tonight he had an actual appointment, so for once he couldn’t stay and deal with it.

“Hey Yi, I’m heading out.” Her name had a Y in it, but it was just pronounced like the letter E. They’d been colleagues for about five years now, and while she wasn’t his supervisor, they kept each other informed about progress.

There was a long pause filled with the clatter of keys, probably as she finished typing a line of code. “Oh.” Another pause. “It’s only five. Did you finish the module?” She sounded as annoyed and distracted as he felt.

“Nope. But I’ve got an appointment.”

“Oh, alright. See you tomorrow.”

He vaguely waved toward her, and a few more times on his way out while he called up a Lyft on his phone.

The car came a few minutes later, carrying him too quickly across town.

He’d never seen a therapist before, and he wasn’t sure what he would say to her.

It was reassuring that this one had come highly recommended by Jamie. Even more, that she was queer and submissive. She’d even mentioned on the phone, casually, that her wife was her Domme.

But he wasn’t convinced that she could actually help him.

In the abstract, he had a lot of respect for people who provided mental health services, and those who utilized those services. He’d even recommended therapy to friends.

Growing up, though, his parents had always had an attitude of we can figure things out ourselves with a subtle air of superiority. Apparently he’d never shaken it.

And then there was that burning feeling of helplessness and hurt that always came with thinking about Cam. He was so sick of thinking about Cam. Even, or maybe especially, if he’d been… in an abusive relationship.

He hoped that wasn’t what the session was going to focus on.

Still, if there was ever a time to give therapy a try, this was it.

The office he stepped into was in a larger building with different services on each floor. The building smelled old, like dried up cleaning solution and dust, but once he arrived in the waiting room for the counseling practice, it was clean and light, with comfortable couches.

He checked in—fortunately having filled out all of his paperwork online where he could read it—and in a few minutes was heading back for his session.

Taja, who’d told him to call her by her first name, was short and slender, with darker skin and a flowing dress that seemed to be bright red with patterns he couldn’t make out. He thought she might have Indian ancestry, but often those things were hard for him to determine with his limited vision.

She walked quickly for someone with such short legs, but when they reached her office, she spoke with a friendly, soothing tone that put him at ease.

If anything, it felt surprisingly like talking to a normal person. She joked as she went over some expectations and confirmed that they might just meet a couple times to talk about one issue or set up ongoing visits if it was appropriate.