Page 35 of After the Rain

Marcus raised an eyebrow, processing the question. "That's pretty philosophical for breakfast conversation."

Heat crept up my neck. This was harder than I'd expected. "I just... I'm trying to understand something about myself. About how people know when they're living the right life."

Marcus studied my face, and I saw the moment he understood something was seriously wrong. His expression softened with genuine concern.

"Can I tell you something? Something that might help?"

I nodded, grateful for any distraction from my own fumbling attempts at explanation.

"A few years back, when we were working on the Riverside project—you remember that nightmare renovation?—I went through this period where I questioned everything about my work, my choices, whether I was even good at what I do." He paused, stirring his coffee. "I'd been in construction for fifteen years, thought I had it all figured out, and then this one project made me feel like a complete amateur."

I remembered that project. Marcus had been uncharacteristically stressed, second-guessing every decision.

"What happened?"

"I realized I'd been doing things the way I thought they should be done, following all the rules and expectations, but I'd stopped listening to my instincts. I was so focused on meeting other people's standards that I'd lost track of what actually worked for me." He met my eyes. "Julie finally told me I needed to stop trying to be the contractor everyone expected and start being the contractor I actually was."

"How did you figure out the difference?"

"Trial and error. A lot of honest conversations with myself about what I actually wanted to build, not what I thought I should want to build." Marcus leaned forward. "Wade, the questions you're asking, the way you're struggling—sometimes life forces you to reconsider everything you thought you knew about yourself. That doesn't mean you were wrong before. It just means you're growing."

I felt tears prick my eyes. "I feel like I'm losing my mind. Like everything I thought I knew about myself is just... gone."

"When did this start? These questions?"

I couldn't tell him about Ezra, about the kiss, about how one moment by a river had shattered everything. "Recently.There's been... someone. Someone who's making me question everything I thought I understood about what I want."

Marcus nodded slowly, not pushing for details. "Someone important?"

The careful way he phrased it made it easier to respond. I nodded.

"That's... that's significant," he said gently. "And probably terrifying."

"Is it crazy? To be thirty-eight and just figuring out you don't know yourself as well as you thought?"

"No. God, no. Wade, I've seen guys our age completely change careers, move across the country, discover talents they never knew they had. There's no expiration date on self-discovery."

I pushed eggs around my plate, appetite completely gone. "What if this costs me everything? Cooper, my business, my place in this community?"

"Can I tell you what I learned from that Riverside project disaster?"

I nodded.

"You can't build something solid on a foundation that isn't true to who you are. It might look good for a while, but eventually, the whole structure becomes unstable." He paused. "Wade, whatever you're working through, the people who matter will want you to be happy. And if they don't, maybe they weren't really your people to begin with."

I madea decision that felt both terrifying and necessary. I found the number for a therapist in the county seat, someonefar enough away that I wouldn't run into anyone I knew in the waiting room.

Dr. Patricia Marlow specialized in sexuality and identity issues. Her website talked about creating a safe space for people questioning their orientation, for adults coming out later in life, for individuals navigating the intersection of identity and family obligations.

I made an appointment for the following week, giving the receptionist a fake name and paying cash in advance. It felt both deeply shameful and vitally necessary—the first step toward understanding who I actually was underneath all the assumptions and expectations.

That night, I dreamed about Ezra. We were back at the river, but this time I didn't panic after our kiss. This time I cupped his face in my hands and told him I was falling for him. This time he smiled and kissed me again, and when we broke apart, the world was still there. Cooper was still there, laughing as he chased ducks through the shallows.

I woke with tears on my face and the absolute certainty that whatever I was feeling for Ezra was real, and deep, and worth fighting for.

But first, I had to figure out who I was fighting as.

The work ahead was terrifying. But for the first time since our kiss, it also felt possible. I wasn't just drowning in confusion anymore—I was taking concrete steps toward understanding myself.

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