Yorkie to My Heart E-Book

Gabbi Grey

• Herausgeber: WS
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Serie: Friends of Gaynor Beach Animal Rescue
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 360

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

Phillip

Devastated at being dumped by the guy I loved, I’m struggling to put my life back together. My social worker suggested a new start in an LGBTQ-friendly town where I might make friends and meet people like myself. A new town doesn’t mean I suddenly become great with people, but Wally, an overweight Yorkie in need of love, prances into my life, like a dog version of me. Taking care of him is healing, and I want to forge a new future for us. Who needs men anyway?

Jeremy

When I nearly trip over my solitary new neighbor and his adorable dog, I’m smitten. But getting past his guarded aloofness won’t be easy. Phillip could clearly use some friends, and I’m always happy to open my circle here in my hometown of Gaynor Beach. No one should be that alone. The guy’s rescue of Wally the Yorkie makes my heart melt, and the more time I spend with the two of them, the more I find myself falling for the shy man. Will I be able to break through Phillip’s walls, or are we destined to only remain friends?

Yorkie to My Heart is a slow-burn, age-gap, opposites attract, gay romance between a shy man with a heart of gold and the gregarious, outgoing man who might just love him.

CW: mention of previous suicide attempt.

Leseprobe

YORKIE TO MY HEART

FRIENDS OF GAYNOR BEACH ANIMAL RESCUE

GABBI GREY

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Epilogue

Also set in Gaynor Beach

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YORKIE TO MY HEART BLURB

PHILLIP

Devastated at being dumped by the guy I loved, I’m struggling to put my life back together. My social worker suggested a new start in an LGBTQ-friendly town where I might make friends and meet people like myself. A new town doesn’t mean I suddenly become great with people, but Wally, an overweight Yorkie in need of love, prances into my life, like a dog version of me. Taking care of him is healing, and I want to forge a new future for us. Who needs men anyway?

JEREMY

When I nearly trip over my solitary new neighbor and his adorable dog, I’m smitten. But getting past his guarded aloofness won’t be easy. Phillip could clearly use some friends, and I’m always happy to open my circle here in my hometown of Gaynor Beach. No one should be that alone. The guy’s rescue of Wally the Yorkie makes my heart melt, and the more time I spend with the two of them, the more I find myself falling for the shy man. Will I be able to break through Phillip’s walls, or are we destined to only remain friends?

* * *

Yorkie to My Heart is a slow-burn, age-gap, opposites attract, gay romance between a shy man with a heart of gold and the gregarious, outgoing man who might just love him.

CW: mention of previous suicide attempt.

C&R

CHAPTER1

PHILLIP

I glanced around the Safe Haven Animal Rescue lobby in awe. The stunning architecture and beautiful façade seemed impractical for a shelter, but also appropriate. Animals deserved the very best, and this place clearly gave them a lovely temporary home. I hadn’t noticed them when I first walked in, but now I took in marble floors and crystal light fixtures. And yet, the space was made welcoming by rubber mats and wall posters and a corner with racks full of toys and beds.

Arthur, the man in charge, also had a welcoming quality to him. With his soft voice and calm demeanor, despite his size, he exuded kindness. His gentle handling of the animals as he’d introduced me to all the dogs in need of a forever home had also connoted a deep love of animals.

Much as I had. But had never been able to show before.

I lost all interest in marble and glass as Arthur emerged from the back area with Wally.

Wally was the cutest dog I’d ever met. His resemblance to me made him all the more likeable. Rotund. Rubenesque. Curvy. Gentle ways of saying fat. Really fat.

“Come on, Wally. You remember Phillip.” Arthur coaxed the dog toward me.

I knelt as best I could, struggling to stay balanced.

“It’s okay.” Arthur started to move toward me. “You don’t⁠—”

I waved him off. “I do.” I held out my hand to Wally.

The Yorkie slowly advanced toward me. Once he sniffed my fingers, though, he launched himself at me.

“He remembers me.” I wasn’t certain why that surprised me, but it did.

“Of course he does.” Arthur offered a genuine smile, the light in the lobby illuminating his sparkling blue eyes. “You’ve been here twice and spent considerable time with him. He’s a clever boy, and you’ll need to watch him carefully. He’s a little escape artist.”

I eyed the little tan-and-black dog, meeting his curious gaze and laughing at his cocked head. “You’re going to be a good boy and do what I say, right?”

As if understanding, Wally licked my hand.

“He’s also a charmer.” Arthur eyed me. “He’s going to try to convince you that he’s starving. To be clear—he’s not. If you feed him exactly the amount of food that Dr. Louisa prescribed, he’ll slowly lose weight. Well, along with the exercise regime.”

Arthur had told me Wally arrived unneutered, with terrible teeth, a few mats, and zero vaccinations.

Dr. Louisa at the Gaynor Beach Animal Clinic was apparently the shelter’s vet, and from the paperwork Arthur had shown me, she’d given Wally a lot of care before they decided the little dog was available for rescue.

Rescue.

I wasn’t certain I was capable of rescuing him. I certainly hadn’t been capable of rescuing myself.

In the past. Move forward.

Easier said than done.

“You okay?”

I met Arthur’s worried gaze.

And put on my bravest smile possible. “Of course. Just thinking of all the things I’ll have to manage. Also grateful to whomever paid for all his care. That was a lot of work.”

“We have a good fundraising team.” He scratched Wally between his perky ears.

The dog’s eyes closed in bliss.

“You’ve got everything you need to take care of him, right?”

Since my last visit, when I’d decided for certain that Wally was coming home with me, I’d gratefully accepted a care package from the shelter with almost everything I’d need. Again, generous souls helping out. “I bought the food, and you provided the bowls. You’re giving me the leash, the harness, and a raincoat.”

“It doesn’t rain much here in SoCal, but you’ll be glad for the coat when those atmospheric rivers come.”

I nodded. Coming from eastern Oregon, I knew about rain. But I’d lived in California for the past six years. First as a student, and then⁠—

For fuck’s sake, get over it already.

But I knew I wouldn’t. I drew in a deep breath. “You also gave me some toys he likes, and Dr. Blair has approved a couple of tr—, uh⁠—”

“Yes, don’t say that word. He’s very familiar with that word.” Arthur grinned. Sometimes he came across as almost shy—like when I’d filled out the paperwork. In the presence of the animals, though, he was confident and forthright.

Or maybe those perceptions were me projecting onto him.

“I’ve also provided you with a map of all the dog parks. You need to wait a couple of weeks before letting him off-leash even inside a fence, though.”

“But after that?”

“Once you’re certain he’ll come when you call and obey your commands, then yes, you can absolutely take him to a leash-free dog park. He likes other dogs. Stay in the small-dog section, though, and if you meet other dogs while walking him, always be cautious. He’s fearless about rushing up to big dogs.”

We’d been over this, but I didn’t blame Arthur for going through it once again. He’d clearly come to care for Wally in the few weeks he’d been here.

“I have your number on speed dial. And Dr. Louisa’s.”

“You have an appointment with her the week after next for a dental recheck, a vaccine booster, and the weight-management stuff.”

“Noted in my calendar.”

“Oh, are you the one adopting Wally?” An excited voice came from the entrance.

I’d been so focused on Arthur and Wally that I hadn’t heard whomever it was, and I startled.

And fell flat on my ass.

Great. No dignified way to stand.

My knees had been protesting after crouching for so long, but at least I would’ve been able to get up without looking like a dork.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry.” The man gazed at me in horror.

His dark-blue eyes were stunning and his short, dark-brown hair suited him. He was a very attractive guy.

Out of my league. All the guys I met these days were out of my league. And why did I care? There was no reason to imagine he was gay.

“Hello, Neil.” Arthur rose gracefully. “Will you take Wally’s leash for a moment?”

Wally gazed excitedly at the new arrival.

Arthur stepped toward me, blocking Neil from my view. “Neil’s a volunteer.” He reached down subtly with his hand.

Well, I either get on my hands and knees and struggle, or I accept the offered hand. He looks strong enough to help. And he wouldn’t offer if he couldn’t…right? His arm muscles didn’t bulge, but I’d sensed Arthur’s strength—both inner and outward.

Two things I sorely lacked.

It’ll be fine. Just get on with it. I held out my hand.

Arthur grasped mine and braced me, and yep, he had some muscle hidden under that soft exterior.

Somehow, we got me back onto my feet.

I dusted off my ass even though the floor shone pristinely.

Everything gleamed in this place. Like Arthur wanted the animals to have the very best.

Together we turned to find Neil crouching easily, and playing shake a paw with Wally.

Who appeared reticent.

Arthur leaned toward me. “He knows how…but he’s waiting for a, you know…”

I remembered.

Wally knew all kinds of tricks—but would only trot them out if he was being rewarded with food. His previous owner had trained him well. But had rewarded everything with food. And had left his food bowl out all day. Some dogs could handle grazing. Wally was not that dog. He hoovered up every scrap of food he came across. Which was why his weight was so high and his health precarious.

Dr. Blair worried about a myriad of ailments.

I’d diligently read up about each and noted the signs to look out for. I also had regular appointments set up with Dr. Blair to monitor Wally’s health.

Arthur had told me the visits were part of the adoption program and I wouldn’t be charged for them.

I didn’t believe him. I also wasn’t in a position to pay for the visits myself—yet—so I’d take the kindness offered by whoever was doing it.

Neil rose gracefully and handed the leash back to Arthur, then met my gaze. “I’m so happy Wally’s got a new home. He’s a favorite of mine. Of everyone’s. Anyway, I need to head to the back. I hope to see you around. Oh, where do you live?”

My cheeks heated at the thought of my out-of-my-budget, favor-I-can’t-repay temporary residence. “Riverside.”

“Oh great. I make my way over that way sometimes. And I’m sure you’ll walk the boardwalk. Wally would love that. All the other dogs and kids. You know he’s great with kids, right?”

“Uh, yes.”

“Well, nice to meet you.”

Arthur gestured. “Apologies. Neil, this is Phillip.”

Neil held out his hand.

After a fraction of a second, I took it. And offered the best smile I could.

“Your hair is so like my boyfriend Sawyer’s.” Neil grinned, released my hand, nodded, and headed into the back.

Of course he has a boyfriend. The cute man struck me as kind as well. Much like Arthur. And everyone else I’d encountered in town. Well, the half dozen, anyway.

Arthur handed me Wally’s leash. “It’s okay to ask questions. No one expects you to know everything right away.”

“I’ve made an appointment with Jordan. The trainer? He’s coming over Thursday night.”

“That’s great. He’s the best. You’ll do great with him.”

I glanced down at Wally. “Are you ready to go?”

Wally grinned up at me.

“Uh.” I gazed around. “I just have to call a cab.” And panic set in as I realized I would have to cut back on something in order to pay for that.

“No need.” Arthur pulled his keys out of his pocket. “I’ll get Neil to watch the front, and I’ll drive you both home. Riverside, you said? That’s not far.”

Close enough to walk. For someone who was vaguely in shape.

June was pretty brutal in Southern California. The sun was strong again today, and Gaynor Beach was enjoying nice, high temperatures. Despite living in LA for six years, the searing heat was something I had yet to acclimate to. All that a/c had spoiled me.

Plus, even if I managed to make it back in one piece, Wally would likely not survive the trip. Arthur and the other volunteers had been walking him a bit more each day, but between his weight issues and the fact he’d never been on a real walk, he was still struggling.

Oh well, we’ll struggle together. “That would be amazing. But only if I’m not putting you out.”

“Not at all.” He held up a finger, clearly indicating I should wait.

I did while he went to the back.

He emerged a few moments later with Neil. Who offered another wide smile.

I managed to smile back.

Arthur grabbed the bag of Wally’s toys, and we headed out.

The drive to my place was tough for me. Was I supposed to make small talk? Be unobtrusive? I didn’t do people, and I wondered about Arthur as well. Neither of us spoke—which was fine—and soon he arrived at the address I’d provided.

My house was the smallest on the street, but well-maintained. Not my house. The one I was residing in. Thanks to some nice guy, James, whom I’d met for the first time yesterday, who rented out this house at below-market rates to people who needed help. I hated that I needed help, but was no longer too proud to ask for it.

“You live in James’s house.” Arthur grinned. “He’s my best friend. I was his very first guest.”

Aw shit. If the men were best friends, then chances were Arthur knew of his friend’s benevolence. “He’s been very kind.” I might’ve been shy yesterday, but I had been grateful and expressed that gratitude to James in an embarrassing torrent of words.

Anthony, my social worker, had sort of ended my rambling thanks.

And didn’t it suck ass that I needed a social worker? Pride goeth before the fall. Wasn’t that the expression? I’d never been overly prideful. But I had fallen.

Badly.

“Thanks so much for the ride.”

We exited Arthur’s vehicle, and he removed Wally from the crate he’d been secured in.

Arthur put him gently on the ground and handed me the leash.

Wally squatted to pee and then, without warning, crouched and pooped.

“Oh crap.” Literally. And heat flooded my cheeks.

“Never fear.” Arthur pulled a doggie bag from his pocket and, before I could do anything, had Wally’s impressive poop scooped. He tied off the bag.

I took it from him.

“Always take three on your walk. If not more. You never know when you might need one. Or four.” Arthur eyed Wally. “And I’ve also met people who ran out or forgot. So you’re their hero.”

I was no one’s hero. Never had been. Never would be.

I told him, “I have one of those things that attaches to his leash. That has the bags in it.”

“Brilliant. You’re all set.” Arthur met my gaze. “Are you going to be okay?”

Man, my nervousness must really be showing. I drew in a deep breath. “Yeah, we’re going to be okay.”

Because we had to be.

Arthur nodded, rounded the hood, and was soon in the van and driving away.

I gazed down at Wally.

He looked up at me with the most trusting dark-brown eyes. His last owner had loved him so much but only managed to express that with food. Well, she was gone, and I was his human now.

“It’s just you and me, buddy.”

He blinked.

We headed inside to start our new lives.

CHAPTER2

JEREMY

Mornings were my favorite time of day. Mornings in SoCal were glorious and, to my delight, this stunning sky was streaked with pink, purple, and orange light hitting the clouds in that stunning way that always stole my breath. Mornings where I was on my own were the best.

Naturally, I had to stop and take a picture of the sky. Because what else did one do when presented with such majesty? With nature in all her glory?

I checked my smartwatch stats for running distance, average pace, and heart rate. All looked great. I resumed my run toward the corner of the walkway in the park and…barreled right into the leash of a dog. I barely caught myself—but managed. My first concern was for the dog which appeared terrified as I nearly fell on it.

I crouched. What an adorable little dog. “Hi, sweetheart. Are you okay?” I held out my hand.

The dog sniffed, then launched herself at me.

Herself?

Himself?

I had no idea.

She planted herself against my chest and began a thorough licking.

Her body felt heavy for her size, and as I petted her, I noted she was pretty round and chubby. None of my concern, though.

I should probably look up for her human, right? The owner might not want some stranger loving on their dog.

So I ran my gaze upward. Sensible walking shoes. Worn jeans. A USC sweatshirt.

An adorable man. Clean-shaven. Dark-blond hair. Sunglasses that hid his eyes. A sweet face. Just…perfection.

Slowly, I disentangled myself from the dog. “Okay, sweetheart, let me say hi to your daddy.” Just as slowly, I rose. I was taller than the guy—who appeared so young that he might still be a USC student. I held out my hand. “Jeremy. Apologies…I sort of love dogs.”

After a long hesitation, the young man stuck out his hand while staring at the ground. “Phillip.”

His shyness spoke to me. “And your dog?”

“Oh, right.” He stammered that out. “Wally. His name’s Wally.” He drew in a breath. “I only rescued him yesterday. So, like, less than twenty-four hours ago. So he came this way, right? Fat? I didn’t make him fat. He’s not following after me. I mean, I’m obviously overweight. And I didn’t always used to be. So we’re, like, walking. We’re going to do that every day—rain or shine. And a diet. We’re both on a diet. Well, he’s on a reduced quantity diet. With diet food. Me? I’m just trying to eat healthier. And less, right?” He pressed a hand to his forehead. “And you didn’t need to know any of that.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Phillip.” I gazed down at a clearly adoring Wally. “I think it’s great you rescued Wally. He’s damn lucky to have you.”

“I think…maybe so.”

His expression was so damn uncertain—what with the furrow in his brow. I didn’t know how to reassure him. Or maybe Wally wasn’t lucky. Maybe they wouldn’t be a good fit. “Would you like to walk for a bit?”

“You were running.” Again with the uncertainty.

“I need to cool down now. I’m not far from my house. Today’s a short run.”

“Uh, sure.” He slowly guided Wally to him. “We’re not far from home either. I wanted to, uh, get the lay of the land. Figure out where everything is.”

“You’re new to Gaynor Beach? Or just to Riverside? I grew up in Marina Park but wanted to get away from my family. Which is like a whole mile away.” I laughed. “And although I’m somewhat successful, I’m not Marina Park successful like my dad.”

He cocked his head.

“A more-expensive part of town. I might buy there eventually, but I really like the Riverside community. Lots of working families. Tons of kids.”

“You like kids?” More of that knitted brow.

“Well, sure. Who doesn’t like kids?” And shit, that was the wrong thing to say because a lot of people didn’t like kids. Like all the people who chose not to have them. Absolutely a decision I respected. If you didn’t love them, then you sure as shit shouldn’t be having them. Still, I persevered. “My sister Marcie has two beautiful kids. I mean, like super cute and super healthy—which is all you can really ask for, right? She considers herself blessed.”

“Yeah.” Phillip scratched his chin. “Lucky.”

I desperately wanted to ask him about himself. None of my business, of course, but I was still intensely curious.

Finally, he pointed across the park. “That’s the way we’re going. You don’t have to⁠—”

“No, I’d love to. If you don’t mind.” I checked my heart rate. A good cooldown range. I didn’t like to stop running abruptly, and if I had a cramp, I’d be forced to stop, but this should be fine. I planned to drink plenty of water when I got home.

We headed in the direction he’d pointed.

The direction that led to my house.

“Uh, which street do you live on? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Wally continued his adorable waddle.

He didn’t pull on his harness, which I considered a bonus.

I’d had a dalmatian growing up, and she’d been forever yanking on her leash. Years of training and we’d never broken her of the habit. Wild and wonderful Spot. Completely unoriginal name for a dalmatian, and most people wound up misgendering her. Still, I’d loved her from the day my parents brought her home until the day she passed. By then, I was away at university and Marcie had almost finished high school. My parents wanted to travel, so they’d never gotten another dog.

Somehow, in my crazy and insanely busy adult life, I’d never gotten one either. As I surreptitiously glanced at Phillip, it occurred to me that I should consider it. I was getting older. That didn’t have anything to do with the hankering…kids weren’t in my future, and having a companion might be a good idea.

As we exited the park, I considered. “Which street do you live on?”

“Uh…”

“Sorry, asking too many questions. Making too many assumptions. You know what they say about assume…”

“Sure…” Phillip scratched his nose. “Well, actually, no.”

“Oh. It makes an ass out of u and me.”

I slowed down a fraction. Should I spell it out to him? Not everyone gets the joke. Just because I use it all the⁠—

“Okay, yeah.” He chuckled. “That’s a good one.”

Relief washed over me. Despite his solid body, his apparent fragility called to me. His words were often tentative—as if he worried about how I would react.

“I, uh…” He kept walking. “I live on Hummingbird Lane.”

“Oh, wow, that’s so cool. I do too.” I matched his stride. Slower than I would normally do, but still at a good pace. “I’ve never seen you before.” Too obtrusive? Too nosy? Yeah, probably.

“I just moved in. Like the day before yesterday.”

“Oh.” I snapped my fingers. “I passed a furniture truck as I was getting home on Monday. I’d run down to see a client in Costa Mesa.”

“Yeah, that would’ve been the furniture people from San Diego. Nikki and some guy whose name I don’t remember. Ralph? Fred?” He ran his hand through his damp hair. The morning wasn’t particularly warm and our pace wasn’t that fast, but he was sweating.

I cut my stride length by a bit more.

He immediately matched it and let out a little sigh.

Damn. Be more attentive. “New furniture?” Now I thought about it, I’d seen that truck before. “Do you live at number thirteen?”

He cast me a sharp glance and nearly tripped.

I nearly reached for him, only stopping when it became clear he wasn’t going to fall. “Sorry. Intrusive.”

“No…I just wondered how…?”

“Well, possibly because I know everyone on Hummingbird Lane and no one mentioned moving. No for sale signs recently. No scuttlebutt around the neighborhood.”

“Scuttlebutt?”

“Sorry. My grandfather was in the navy. He had a huge influence on me, and sometimes I use odd expressions.” I shrugged. “People look at me funny, but it keeps him alive for me, right? He was a veteran of the Second World War. Married my grandmother later in his life. She was older too, and they only had my mom. I didn’t have a ton of time with him, but I used to sit on his knee and listen to all his stories.” I laughed. “And learned his salty language—much to my mother’s horror. My father just chuckles. He grew up in the hippie days. Well, his impressionable years, as he likes to refer to them.”

“Uh, wow.”

Phillip’s color appeared a little less hectic. I hadn’t noticed how red he’d gotten until it improved. “Right. And here I am rambling on. So what I’m trying to say is that I hadn’t heard about anyone leaving. But the house next to me always has people moving in and out. I know the owner, James Reynolds. Nicest guy. Lovely husband, fantastic dog.”

“Uh…” He frowned.

“Widget. I just adore her. Almost enough to make me want to get a Frenchie of my own, but they’re so much work. So many health problems. I would never buy one. Well, I’d never buy any dog. Did you get Wally from the shelter?”

“Yeah.”

“Right. So you met Arthur? He’s James’s best friend. I met them both just after James moved in. Then James met Colin and moved out. Another nice man and his two kids moved in. Rob. With Hallie and Thomas. Oh my God, the cutest kids. And they stayed until they moved into James and Colin’s old house over in… Oh God, I’m doing it again.”

We left the park and stepped onto Fern Avenue.

“Doing what?” Phillip wiped his brow.

“Talking. You don’t need to know who all has lived in the house.”

“I don’t mind.”

Wally glanced back at us, panting hard.

I slowed another little bit. “Well, that’s good of you. Rob started dating Danny, James’s younger brother and, like I said, moved into James and Colin’s old place when they moved to Marina Park.”

“The expensive place.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Colin has money. Rob works at the vet clinic, and Danny’s in school. I think, studying to be a psychologist…? That’s so cool. They have a dog, too. A husky. Named Trouble.”

Phillip chuckled.

“Right? I think the dog has a different real name, but everyone knows her as Trouble. I see her on the boardwalk sometimes. With Rob, Danny, and the kids. I’ve run into James, Colin, and Widget as well.” As we neared Hummingbird Lane, I picked up the pace of my rambling. “So then a nice young woman moved in, and she stayed a bit. Then a woman and her teenage daughter. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen them for a bit. I suppose they moved out.”

“Yeah?”

“As far as I know, James still owns the house.” I slapped my forehead with the palm of my hand. “And you must know that. Oh, unless you bought the house.”

Phillip snickered.

The sound almost didn’t register because it didn’t fit the little I knew of him. Right, like you’ve somehow got the measure of the guy…you’ve done all the talking.

“I can’t afford to buy anything.” He scratched his nose. “Well, I can afford all the stuff Wally needs.”

No missing the defensiveness in his voice. As if his situation would lead me to judge whether or not he could take care of his dog. I had no doubt he could. Anyone who rescued a dog had a good heart, as far as I was concerned. Clearly he had Wally’s health in mind as well.

We turned onto Hummingbird, keeping to the nice wide sidewalk.

Only one house to pass, and then we’d be at my place. The lane only had eighteen houses. Phillip’s was the smallest. Mine was the biggest. I probably didn’t need three bedrooms, three bathrooms, a massive kitchen, and a decked-out finished basement. I’d chosen the house thinking I might eventually have someone to share it with. Ten years on, and that hadn’t happened.

“Do you want to come in? For a glass of water? I can put out a bowl for Wally.” I added as much cheer in my voice as I could manage without making it saccharine.

“No, that’s okay.” Phillip wiped his brow again. “But, like, thanks.”

“No sweat. I’m a friendly guy, and I love dogs. Just in case you couldn’t tell.”

We’d come to my house, and so I stopped.

He didn’t. He just kept going.

I tried to nonchalantly stretch and not watch as he unlocked his front door and went inside.

As far as I could tell, he didn’t look back.

I considered doing a fast walk around the block, but nah, too much effort. Plus, I didn’t want Phillip to think I’d curtailed my exercise because of him. No rational reason for him to think that, of course. I entered my house, then plopped down on the bench by my front door to untie my laces. After toeing off my shoes, I hotfooted up the stairs and shed my clothes in the main bedroom as I made my way to the shower. I was well ahead of schedule for the day, but starting work a little early wouldn’t hurt.

Another busy day.

Like all the ones before and probably those ahead of me as well.

When I’d finished business school, I’d stayed in Los Angeles and gone to work for one of the biggest public-relations firms on the west coast. I’d been a cog. Had busted my butt for six years, but made little progress in the echelons of power within the agency. I’d only been assigned a couple of bigger clients, and all under the supervision of a man I didn’t respect. Who cut corners and wasn’t always ethical. But he brought in tons of money, so everyone looked the other way.

One weekend, I had a call about a client on our roster. She was in trouble, and my boss wasn’t answering her calls. Not her fault, but things looked bad. I raced to her side and helped her navigate the tricky waters of tabloid presses.

She told me I should start my own firm. That she’d be my first client.

I pointed out the non-compete clause in my contract.

She said she knew the head of the agency, and if she told the truth about my asshole boss—that he’d planned to leave her hanging—she’d get me out of my contract.

In all honesty, I hadn’t known about my boss’s decision to not help her.

Apparently she’d turned him down when he propositioned her, and he’d made it clear this was payback.

All very sordid. All very nasty. All very helpful in extricating me.

She was my first client. And she helpfully brought plenty more.

Maybe I should’ve stayed in Los Angeles. By then, though, the most important promotional interactions were online, and the internet worked at warp speed. Everyone had a smart phone. I could operate just as well from my house in my small town as anywhere else. And be near my parents who were aging.

Gracefully, my mother would say.

Too quickly, my sister Marcie would point out to me. Confidentially.

We wanted our parents to be around forever.

I stepped under the steaming-hot spray and let the water run over my sore muscles. My last marathon had been two weeks ago, and I was easing back into training for the next one. As I scrubbed up, though, I tried to parse out my thoughts.

Mom and Dad getting older.

Marcie with her two beautiful kids.

The work piling up on my desk.

Phillip…the enigmatic new neighbor.

The thing was…I’d always sort of wondered if the house was used for people fleeing abusive situations. Rob had arrived with a black eye and a broken nose. The young woman after him had seemed okay, but the woman after her—the one with the teenage daughter—had arrived with her arm in a cast. None of the occupants had stayed for long. Almost like the place was some kind of transitional housing.

Oh, and I spotted our local social worker, Anthony Rodrigues, coming and going frequently. Which was the other big clue.

I’d been attracted to Anthony when we’d first crossed paths about eight years ago—when he’d first come to town. We just hadn’t clicked. He’d been almost a dozen years younger and clearly not looking for anything serious. Now the guy was married, with twin toddlers, a six-year-old foster daughter, and an adorable librarian husband.

I scrubbed the shampoo into my hair.

Okay, huge detour leading me back to my neighbor. With his dark-blond hair, eyes a color I could only guess at, and… Well, he was overweight. That didn’t bother me in the least. I liked guys on the bigger side. When they commented on their weight and weren’t happy, though, I didn’t say anything they might take the wrong way. If they were confident in themselves and clearly healthy, I was happy to tell them how sexy I found them.

Phillip hadn’t been confident or comfortable in his own skin. That much had been plain as day. And for him to show that much vulnerability to a stranger unasked? Way more than most of the guys I met, who focused on only showing their best side. Gaynor Beach had a lot of sexy guys of all sizes. Slender guys. Muscular guys. And some beefy ones too. To me, everyone was attractive. When they showed their true colors, in words and deeds, that’s when I passed judgment on whether I wanted to spend time with them. There had to be…compatibility. I was too damned old to befriend someone who wasn’t at least a good person. Life was too short.

Which made me picky about my friends and my clients. My reputation was such I could now choose whom I worked with and whom I associated with.

I rinsed out the last of the shampoo, made sure all my bits were clean, and shut off the water.

My busy day started in six minutes, and I’d have to save ruminations about Phillip for another time.

CHAPTER3

PHILLIP

“I’m okay.” I fidgeted with my hands on my lap. “Really.”

“I’m sure you are.”

My social worker Anthony’s tone was soft. Soothing. Almost like he was talking to a child. In some ways, he kind of was.

Stop it. You’re twenty-four fucking years old. You can stand up for yourself.

“I don’t need extra—” I scratched my nose. “—therapy.”

Anthony smiled.

He had gleaming white teeth. They contrasted with his tanned skin nicely. His long hair made him look sort of sexy and his trim beard reminded me of Jeremy’s. Although Jeremy had some gray in his, Anthony had none. I pegged the social worker to be somewhere between my neighbor and me in age.

But that was just a guess. I wasn’t great at guessing people’s ages.

Probably because you don’t interact with people much.

My inner voice had a point. I took a breath. “I’m okay.” I was pretty certain I’d said that about ten times since Anthony had arrived.

Each time I did, he appeared less convinced, with a little furrow appearing in his brow.

His smile continued, though. “You’ve been through a lot, Phillip. It’s okay to not be okay.”

“But I am.” And my protesting wasn’t getting me anywhere.

“Be that as it may—” He tapped his notepad. “—part of my agreeing to put you here, alone in this house, was with the understanding you’d get help. Now, you and I can do counseling, but I can’t do your prescription renewals. We need to set you up with a family doctor.”

“Okay.”

“And I’d like you to see Dr. Martin.”

“They’re a family doctor?” I didn’t want to try to gender Dr. Martin. What had Jeremy said about assumptions? Inside, the reminder made me smile.

“No, Dr. Xavier Martin is a psychiatrist at Gaynor Beach Memorial Hospital. He’s a great guy, Phillip. Really empathetic. But tough. Both things I think you need right now. Your psychiatrist in LA can continue your care over the phone for another few weeks, but she doesn’t want to treat you from such a distance.”

Gaynor Beach was almost two hours from LA. And since I didn’t have a car and would’ve had to take a bus, I could almost double that length of time.

Each way.

Which made it impractical to continue to see her. She was great…but not worth staying in LA for, and she didn’t offer telehealth visits.

She’d also been the one to help me find Anthony—a social worker with a strong reputation for being able to help people. Such as those who might want to get out of LA.

I sighed. “It’s not that I’m not grateful…”

“I don’t need your gratitude, Phillip. I need you to stay healthy. You’re doing so well, and we need to make certain you stay on the right track and not…slip.”

Ah. So that’s what they’re calling a suicide attempt.

I was lucky. My landlady had found me in time.

Or not lucky. That totally depended on one’s perspective.

I’d apologized to her.

She’d accepted that apology. And also made it clear I couldn’t come back. Aside from the bad associations, I had also been three months late on rent. I’d been lucky she hadn’t just called the sheriff to evict me.

“I’m not going to slip.” I pointed to my pill bottles. “Every day. I take them every day. Jermain, the pharmacist, keeps me on track.”

Anthony’s smile didn’t waver. “That’s great. But it’s only been three days since you got here. I believe you can sustain this…but I also believe in putting as many people in our corner as we can. I think Dr. Martin is the best person to help.”

I blew out a long breath. “If I say no, do I get kicked out?”

He shook his head. “As long as you’re doing the work and staying healthy, you’re good to stay here. This is a place for you to get your feet back under you. There are no timelines.”

“Look, Anthony, I know you’re a nice guy.”

His head tilted.

“I haven’t had my feet under me since I was, I don’t know…five? Between my mom being sick—and then eventually dying—and the…bad situation I got myself into back in LA…” I winced. “I’ve not had a good run.”

“I know that.” That smile slipped a bit. “Phillip, I’m not going to sugarcoat it—you’ve had a rough go for most of your life. But you’ve kept going. Against incredible headwinds. You’ve had a setback, but you can recover from this. You are recovering from this,” he quickly amended. “So why not do everything we can to ensure you have the best chance of success? Leaving LA was a brave thing to do. Starting over somewhere fresh is great—but it can also be daunting.”

“I’ve got Wally.” I scratched my dog’s ears. He sat on the couch next to me. “I organized his adoption while I was still living in the shelter. That took planning.” And I was grateful to be out of the shelter. I hadn’t needed it for protection from an abusive ex, like most of the residents. I’d needed it in order to be under supervision while Anthony worked out the details of me coming here.

“Rescuing Wally was a great idea, Phillip. I was happy to sign off on the venture. But you agreed taking care of him means also taking care of yourself.” Anthony shifted, crossing his legs. He looked too elegant to be sitting on a worn recliner. He’d assured me that he’d visited plenty of clients here over the last few months. That James would welcome me—which he had. That I’d settle in—which I was trying to do.

“I…uh…” I wracked my brain. “I met a neighbor. While walking Wally in the park.”

“Oh, who?”

“Jeremy.” I tried for a smile. “He lives next door.”

“Oh, I know Jeremy. Great guy.” That megawatt smile was back.

For my cute neighbor, for delight in me proving I wasn’t a loner loser, or both?

I couldn’t tell. “Yeah. We, uh, walked together. Like, well, I was walking Wally. And he joined us.” I scratched Wally’s ears. “He talks. A lot.”

Anthony laughed. “I agree Jeremy can be very friendly. He’s a good guy. I didn’t realize he lived close.”

I pointed to the next house. “Right there.”

“Oh.” Anthony cocked his head. “You would think I’d know that. Heck, maybe I did.”

“You’re busy.”

“I am.” For just an instant, his face took a solemn expression. About his life? About his clients?

About me?

“I’m planning to come back five days from today—on Monday. You’ll be okay until then?”

I nodded.

“I’m on call this weekend, so if you need me, don’t hesitate to reach out. You’ve also got the list of emergency numbers to call?”

The ones that include the suicide hotline? I nodded again. “Yeah, I’ve got everything.”

“Great.” He finally rose. “Let’s get you scheduled with Dr. Martin.”

I wanted to argue. I didn’t want to start fresh with a new psychiatrist. Haven’t I done enough already? Except my shrink in LA had said she’d only write one more script. Since even I knew I wasn’t ready to go off the meds, I understood the direness of my situation. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Great. In fact, why don’t I make it right now? Do you want to get out your calendar?”

“Only to mark the date. I don’t have a single thing booked.” I might’ve mumbled that response.

“Yet.” Anthony smiled. “That will change. Didn’t you say something about Jordan the trainer coming over?”

“Uh, yeah.” I’d shared that right off the bat at our meeting—to prove I was interacting with people. Of course he’d remember.

He put the phone to his ear.

I sort of tuned it all out.

“Cancellation? Friday at nine am?” He met my gaze.

I nodded. Then I yanked my new phone from my back pocket of my jeans, opened the calendar app, and made a note. I set an alarm for eight that morning. Hopefully all those reminders would get me wherever I was going. Gaynor Beach was so small that I could walk just about anywhere.

Well, that might’ve been an exaggeration—although not much.

“That’s great. His name is Phillip Kaye. I’ll fax over a referral this afternoon with his previous provider’s contacts and a signed release. Thanks, Violet.” He hung up the phone and met my gaze.

In turn, I held up mine to indicate I had the appointment noted.

“Dr. Martin’s office is in the Gaynor Beach hospital. Will you be able to figure that out? It’s not too far…”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“I can arrange a ride or money for a cab⁠—”

“I’ll figure it out.” I might’ve said that with more force than was strictly necessary.

“Of course you will.” He cocked his head. “I have every faith in you, Phillip. But I’m here to make things easier for you. So you can succeed.”

“What does success even look like?”

Anthony started to sit again.

I waved him off. “A conversation I should have with Dr. Martin, right?”

“That’s a very sensible idea.”

“And you probably have to go.” Part of me wanted him to go, and the rest of me wanted him to stay. I really was lonely.

“Keep my number handy. Enjoy your time with Jordan tomorrow, and be as honest as you can with Dr. Martin.”

“Uh, sure.” I fidgeted.

He held my gaze. “I should probably tell you that Dr. Martin is Black.”

Oh Jesus. “I don’t care. Truly. Just because my mother was a white supremacist and I grew up with her, doesn’t mean I subscribe to her ideology. I don’t.” And yet you picked a boyfriend with the same tendencies. What does that say about you?