Page 165 of Checking Out the Librarian

“Done.” His voice didn’t even crack. Doing a relationship was turning out to be almost as easy as making garden pasta, ha. He wanted to throw his arms up and swivel for the audience and gloat, hey haters, my life is the long program and I fucking nailed it.

Connor wrapped himself around Jonathan again and rolled them sideways, then pressed his lips to Jonathan’s forehead. Another one of those kisses.

“For the record, I solemnly swear not to be an uncommunicative male main character. And to get, like, a therapist.”

“Same. Pact. And I’ll get you a referral from mine.” He still didn’t believe in fate, but he’d scored his own appointment in time to have a connection to ask for someone who could talk with Connor. He could at least believe in luck.

“Pact.”

33

STAR OF THE WEEK

Connor loved going home, loved how the drive alternated between tunnels of shadowy firs and cedars and incredibly sun-washed river valleys.

The wheels always hummed with promises of abundance, and he always knew there would be Mom and Dad and Jess at the end of the road. Hugs. Pie. Horses. Roast chicken. He loved all of that, loved it whole-heartedly, but this year his tires seemed to make a thudding sound. He’d checked the pressure an hour ago, nothing wrong with them.

It was him that was different.

He missed Jonathan already. Would a guy from Los Angeles via New York City see the forest and rivers the way he did?

Too bad there was only a two-story ranch house at the other end of the drive, not a windswept, cliff-top gated mansion.

If he ever wanted to share this drive with Jonathan, first he’d have to tell his parents.

He should have done that years ago, shouldn’t have let his life bifurcate until the point where talking about who he really was felt like staring at the opposite bank of a river with a washed-out bridge in front of him.

He didn’t think he needed to worry. He was pretty sure they’d be fine, probably awkward, but they’d still love him. Very sure. Still, he’d read enough scenes of hockey players coming out to their teammates to suspect that even if his family easily accepted his announcement, they might be hurt he hadn’t told them before.

As soon as Highway 126 started to climb heading east through the Willamette National Forest, Ribby knew they were going to the most beautiful place on earth, the John Day Valley, and his tail went into hyperloop, if that was a thing. Connor wasn’t sure. He rolled down the window enough for Ribby to get all the smells, but not enough for him to risk getting ejected.

Prineville, the last place of any size, was where he always stopped for gas and to text his mother, asking again if she wanted anything from one of the big stores. He’d see her in two hours, give or take.

Might as well get coffee and a nice fluffy donut, then text Jonathan while he waited for Mom’s answer.

Connor

Last night I dreamt I went to Prineville again.

Jonathan

Has all that nature tried to kill you?

He pulled the copy of Rebecca that Jonathan had lent him out of his backpack and flipped pages, looking for a quote that he could append to a photo.

Connor

A cloud, hitherto unseen, but not trying to kill me

He added a shot of the bright blue sky overhead and a solitary cumulus cloud, puffy and beckoning.

Would a second donut be too much?

Ohh, he could get a box with a dozen and take them to the ranch.

Jonathan

Yet