Mystic Man

2018-2019 Rainbow Awards Runner-up, Best Gay Contemporary Romance & Romantic Comedy

When a series of personal crises prompt risk-averse research librarian Aaron Templeton to apply for a job on the other side of the country, nobody is more surprised than he is. He nearly runs home before the final interview except for one little problem: he has no home anymore. He put his condo on the market before he left California and it’s already sold. Only an encounter with free-spirited Connecticut native Cody Brown at the Mystic Seaport Museum staves off Aaron’s incipient panic attack.

Cody loves nothing better than introducing newcomers to the great features of his beloved home state, and when the newbie in question is a rumpled professorial type with the saddest blue eyes on the planet? Score! The attraction between the two men deepens as they explore Cody’s favorite spots, but when difficulties arise and Aaron’s insecurities threaten to overwhelm him, will Cody’s love be enough to keep him in Mystic?

Mystic Man is a 32,000-word novella featuring a pertinent internal playlist, suggestive shellfish consumption, and a six-year-old who thinks history should have more girls. HEA guaranteed.

For Jim, who—despite over thirty years in Oregon—is still a Connecticut Yankee at heart.

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The ocean’s on the wrong side.

The sun, tipping toward the west, wasn’t aiming for the sea that lurked out of sight at the mouth of the Mystic River. That, more than anything—more than typing his scathing letter of resignation, more than his brief conversation with an openmouthed real estate agent, more than buying a last-minute, full-price ticket from LAX to Hartford—brought home to Aaron the enormity of what he’d done.

I’m on the other side of the country without a safety net—no friends, no home, no job.

Correction: no job yet. Fingers twitching, panic fizzing in his veins, Aaron fumbled his phone out of his pocket and pulled up his calendar app. Tomorrow the entire afternoon was blocked out in comforting green. Interview and presentation at Hillview Academy.

He’d applied for the job of librarian-slash-history teacher on an impulse anyway, his sinuses burning from over an hour in rush-hour traffic on a day with yet another air quality advisory, frustrated with the latest mind-numbing research assignment in the ad agency’s poorly scanned, unindexed archives. When the school had scheduled his first phone interview, he’d assumed it was a fluke, so he hadn’t been nervous. That must have been why it went so well—I had nothing at stake then. The second interview—same thing.

When he got the call for the third interview, he’d been on his lunch hour, just leaving the food court at the mall. He was about to agree to meet with a local alumni committee when he’d spotted his ex in the jewelry store, cooing over wedding rings with his new boyfriend not two months after Wayne had walked out, claiming he wasn’t the marrying kind.

So Aaron blurted, You needn’t go to the trouble. I’m relocating to Connecticut anyway. Leaving tomorrow, in fact, so I’d be happy to visit the campus and meet with the committee there.

What the hell was I thinking? I’m never spontaneous. I always plan and plan again. Yet he’d let hurt and humiliation goad him into the first impulsive decision in his entire thirty-seven years, completely imploding his life.

He’d never even been out of Southern California before. Hell, in the sandwich shop where he’d stopped to buy lunch this afternoon, he’d stared at the chip rack for ten minutes, unable to find any recognizable brands. What made him think he could navigate an entirely new state where even the damn potato chips were strangers?

He blotted the perspiration off his upper lip. Maybe it wasn’t too late for a reset. The HR manager at the agency had always been nice to Aaron. Maybe he could talk her into forgetting about that unfortunate resignation letter. Hillview had told Aaron he was one of three final candidates—they’d have no problem filling the post.

That’s what he’d do. Cancel his interview. Text the real estate agent to take his condo off the market. Book yet another full-price ticket. Fly back to Southern California. With his boss away on his annual self-discovery retreat, chances were good that nobody but the HR manager would even know he’d been gone.

He cast a last wistful glance at the charming historic houses surrounding the Mystic Seaport Village green. He’d come this far. Maybe he could delay another few hours to tour the museum before returning to his hotel to pack.

No. He couldn’t put it off. If this put a serious dent in his savings with nothing whatsoever to show for it, that should teach him a lesson that he’d apparently forgotten: security is paramount. Familiar might be unexciting, but at least it was safe.

His phone vibrated in his hand, and when he checked the screen, the text from the real estate agent sent his stomach into free fall.

Great news! Three offers on the condo in the first day. All over the asking price, and no contingencies. We’ll be able to close even more quickly than you’d hoped.

No. No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. He’d set the price ridiculously high, even by Orange County standards, specifically to give himself a seller’s remorse emergency escape option. But if there were no contingencies, and the offers were over the asking price, he couldn’t pull out of the contract without a penalty—which his finances couldn’t support. His savings still hadn’t recovered from the condo down payment, and after further decimating them with two outrageously expensive airline tickets?

He dropped his arm to his side, fingers numb around his phone, alone in the crowd of laughing tourists. Jesus, I’m as reckless and foolhardy as my parents.

What am I going to do?

Please, Uncle Cody. I want you to see my history report before I turn it in tomorrow.

Kaya’s voice held that wheedling note that Cody could never resist. I’ll try, but—

Daddy’s making tikka masala.

Cody laughed as he made his way down the path from the Seaport’s Sailing Center. Why didn’t you say so in the first place?

Because, Cody’s sister cut in, obviously retrieving her phone from Kaya, you should want to come for something besides the food.

It’s not like I never see you, Eliza. I live in your attic, for crying out loud.

Yes, you do, which is why it’s amazing that you manage to go ghost on us as much as you do.

He rubbed the back of his neck. About that….

Cody. Whereas some guys’ big sisters’ voices might rise to a shriek on a warning like that, Eliza’s voice dropped to a growl. "Seriously? You’re leaving again?"

Um… yeah. I’ve got the money now to take that solo backpacking trip I was telling you about. As soon as I decide between Spain, Peru, or Bali, I’m ready to go.

Alone? To a foreign country?

Lots of people do it, Lize, it’s not that big a deal.

Her sigh was clearly audible over the phone. It was probably audible from Hartford. How long this time?

I don’t know. Four or five months, maybe? I want to be back in time for next year’s spring tourist season at the Seaport. Don’t worry. I’ll keep paying the rent on my apartment, you hardass slumlord.

"I’m not worried about the rent, you doofus. We miss you when you’re gone. And besides…." Eliza’s voice broke, and Cody tightened his grip on the phone. His sister never got over-emotional unless….

"Are you…. God, Lize, are you pregnant?"

Yes! she wailed. And you were gone on that stupid round-the-world sail when Kaya was born. You weren’t there when I got home from the hospital. You missed her first smile, her first word, her first step. And now you’re going to do the same with this baby.

Cody dodged out of the flow of visitors and sat down on a bench. It’s not for a whole year, Lize. How far along are you?

Three months.

Then I should be home in plenty of time to welcome the new rug rat.

What about Kaya? You know she adores you.

She’ll be tied up with first grade stuff. Even last year, when she was in kindergarten, she was so focused on her homework—and Jesus, homework in kindergarten?

It was just alphabet and counting practice.

Well, Kaya treated it like the calculus AP exam. That girl knows how to focus. She won’t even notice I’m gone.

That’s what you think. And if you don’t show up tonight to see this project—

I should be able to. Don’t worry. But why do I have to see it especially? Aren’t you and Hiran supposed to award the official parental seal of approval?

"She won’t show it to us because you’re the one who helped her with the research. She will miss you, Cody."

Cody sighed, his gaze traveling across the green to the dock where a steady stream of tourists marched up the gangway onto the deck of the Charles W. Morgan. I’ll miss her too. But I need to take this trip.

Why exactly? You claim to love Connecticut. Volunteering at the Seaport. Even working for Hiran when he can nail your feet to the floor under your computer. Why do you need to keep leaving?

Cody stood again and joined the people strolling around the green. I don’t know. Itchy feet, I guess.

Free-spirited is one thing, Cody. Commitment-avoidant is something else.

"Hey. I’m committed. I volunteer here three days a