Wayne Gray

Do you really want to know who I am? Or do you want the carefully edited version of who I want you to see? Of who I expect you'll want to see? Because the real me? Well, he's doughtful, and questi0oning, and drunk, and scared. And he doesn't really know what tomorrow will bnring. Reality is niot clean or carefully designed. It simply is. And if you can't handle that, then you should unfollow this imperfect vessel. And maybe follow someone who will more careully alighn himselrf with what you expect of an author of stories, tales, and maybe even legends. I'm not that. I'm just me. Ugly, flawed and real. I know ... that's just awfulness wrapped in a pretty bow. If you want a cracked ghem with a tight band of leathe4r wrapped 'round, to hold it all together ... Well, I'm your man...

It was now a little after ten a.m. Bailey and Harlan had spent a few hours of the morning together. First, they'd awoken and had that delicious sex. Then they had breakfast, coffee, and lazed around. Now it neared time for Bailey to set things in motion for their dinner date tonight. Only a few minutes earlier, Harlan had told him that he needed to do some work for his dad, then he'd left for Crescent City. Bailey entered his cabin. He thought for a while about how he wanted things to go for the date. I really don't want to just text him the whole time. Bailey sat at his desk, and he rotated the phone over and over in his hands. Finally, he nodded. Okay. Worst that happens is he says no. He unlocked the phone, then texted Shawn. I hope your Saturday is going well. And I also wanted to ask if you could help me with something. Can we video chat? Bailey sent the message and watched the status. It changed from "sent" to "read". Seconds later, his phone rang with a video chat request. Bailey accepted and smiled into the phone. "Hello." "Hello!" Shawn smiled back at Bailey. "How can I help you?" Though Shawn knew Bailey could hear, he set the phone down, so it pointed at him and responded back in ASL. Bailey bit his lip. "I wondered if you could help me. I have a date tonight. I'll buy you dinner if you go. It's a nice spot in Brookings. Pacific Sushi, at six." Shawn grinned and started to respond, but Bailey jumped in. "Wait. I'm going on a date with a man. I'm gay. It's okay if you don't want to do it." Shawn frowned, then he tried to cover with a watery smile. Bailey felt a sinking feeling in his gut at the initial reaction as he watched Shawn try to come up with a response. Nobody at his work had known that he was gay. Bailey knew it was a macho sort of environment, and that keeping things close to this chest was probably the way to go. But Shawn had seemed cool. Though now, Bailey knew that he must have misread the young man. He tried to crush his disappointment. "Nevermind." Bailey smiled, though it never touched his eyes. "Sorry to bother you. I'll see you Monday." Bailey hung up, then huffed out a breath of air. Well, fuck. He rubbed his face. Bailey now had bigger worries than his date with Harlan. Now he had to stress over what work was going to be like on Monday. In California, his employment was protected. He couldn't be fired just for being gay. But life could be hell. It could be a terrible place to work if nobody wanted to talk to him or any number of different things. He could have to leave. Sitting at his desk, he slumped. Bailey stared down at his hands where they dangled between his knees. He set his jaw. Well, no use stressing over it. You don't know what will happen Monday. Just push it aside, and let it go. Bailey put his phone down on the desk. Okay. Time to get busy with plan B. He opened his notes application and began to type out all of the questions he had about Harlan, and around his desires and needs moving forward. That kept Bailey occupied for the next hour. By the end, he had a list of over forty questions he could ask. I'll just copy and paste them into a text message to Harlan. That way his portion of the conversation would go quickly, and Harlan could reply verbally back. It wasn't perfect, but it'd have to work. Bailey plugged in his phone to charge. Wouldn't do to run out of juice midway through my date. He smirked, then drummed his fingers on his legs. Well, I've got a few hours. I guess I'll get some work done. Pulling out his notebook, Bailey went over the next stage of the project on the highway. ♬♬♬ Harlan was back at the campground after helping his father with the store in town, and it was now four thirty in the afternoon. From his strange vantage point, Harlan stared up at the floor. He was at the tail end of his workout, and he held his body up in a full handstand. He only wavered slightly back and forth as he maintained his balance in the middle of his cabin. The curtains were drawn, and the door locked. He didn't need anyone to see the short, efficient, yet brutal workout he put himself through every day. He did this to maintain his body and skills. Harlan was now in his mid-thirties. Though he tended to recover a bit slower than he used to, he found his ability to build strength had increased as he'd aged. He knew that would continue until his early to mid-forties; after that, it would be harder to maintain his physical prowess, though not impossible. It would just take more work. Harlan controlled his breath, letting it flow out as he allowed his body to descend. He bent his arms at the elbows until his forehead was an inch from the floor. Holding the position, sweat rolled from his face down to drip off of his nose. His body screamed in burning agony, but he was an expert at putting his discomfort and pain into a box. He compartmentalized it, and that allowed him to push his body to its breaking point. Bending at the waist, he finally put his feet on the ground. Then he straightened to stand up. He had only been at it for about forty minutes, but in that span of time, Harlan had put himself through more effort and work than most people could in two hours. That's because Harlan was willing to suffer. In fact, suffering was a part of his routine. To deal with self-inflicted hardship and pain hardened him, mentally as well as physically. He exhaled and shook his head. Beads of sweat flew from his hair, and he blinked, his eyes stinging from the saltiness. Fluid ran down his bare chest and back to soak the waistband of the shorts he wore. Harlan grabbed a towel and wiped his face. He'd already had one shower, but he definitely needed another. Harlan threw the towel over his shoulder, put on some sweats, and slipped into a pair of shower sandals. Then he picked up his change of clothes and his leather dress shoes. He had already carefully chosen the outfit he'd wear tonight for his date with Bailey. He owned some very nice things—all required for certain Family events he was still expected to attend. But this was not Sicily or Rome, so he dialed things back to a nice gray, long-sleeved button-up shirt, black slacks, and some brown leather shoes. He had already surreptitiously peeked at Bailey's clothes earlier in the day where they hung in his small closet-space in his cabin. He knew they'd match up in terms of quality and cut of their "on the town" clothes. Harlan had already written down a bunch of phrases he wanted to learn to sign and words he wanted to watch on the computer. That way, he could make things easier tonight during their date. "Shit. I'm going on a fucking date." Harlan bit his lip and shook his head. He didn't even know how he was supposed to act; not really. Though he knew there were some social expectations. Leaving his cabin, Harlan carried his bathroom kit and change of clothes to the shower room. He expected he'd have to share information about himself during the date itself. Over the years, he had cultivated an identity that flirted just enough with the truth to be convincing, so he wasn't apprehensive about that. There was little risk by telling Bailey the typical lines. And it'd be safer for Bailey too—he would never need to know it all. Harlan entered the shower room and stripped off his sweaty clothes. Soon, he stood under the warm, comfortable stream of water. After his workout, it was a stark counterpoint in physical experience. Where he pulled away from how his body felt during his workouts, during moments like the shower, or sex, he keyed into every sensation and everything his senses delivered. He finished up with his shower and dried himself off. He got dressed. Wiping the steam off of the mirror on the back of the door, Harlan put some gel in his hands, and styled his hair. He recalled the last time he had used gel. It was last month when he had gone back to Hailey, Idaho for his monthly meeting with the Family. Otherwise, there was no occasion for Harlan to make himself handsome or more presentable than usual. In fact, Harlan's success during his more clandestine ventures depended on his not sticking out. He needed to fit in, and for that, he strove for average. But tonight, he felt as if average was a liability. Bailey was so handsome. His blue eyes and black hair were stunning together. He had a strong jaw, and his face was something Harlan would expect on a magazine cover. "Dude should be a movie star," Harlan whispered as he stared into the reflection of his green eyes. He struggled to squash the feeling of inferiority he had around his own appearance compared to Bailey's. That was not an emotion Harlan typically suffered through, so he found himself ill-equipped to handle it. Still, Harlan was not a quitter, never shying away from a challenge of any sort. And as he looked at his reflection, Harlan had to admit that he cleaned up pretty nice. During his day to day life, he wasn't trying to set himself apart in any way. But now, with his hair styled in a soft point, his clean shave, and the nice clothes, Harlan smiled a little. Okay, I'd do me. He laughed at the thought then opened the door. ♬♬♬ Rayne sat at the little desk in the "Clay" cabin, watching as Elias worked on the serpent sculpture. Typically, the boys would chat and otherwise socialize while they hung out, but there was something different when Elias was focused and working. Music played at a low volume in the background. Elias preferred gentle, soothing songs, a lot of it stuff Rayne had never heard. But he found himself enjoying the overall vibe of the Indie music that streamed through Elias' phone. While they listened, Elias' hands moved in flowing, tiny movements as he cut scales into the clay with his fingernails, and he slowly worked his way down the body of the sculpture. It was mesmerizing, and Rayne stared in wonder as the details took shape. The expression on Elias' face was one of relaxed focus. Rayne swallowed nervously as his eyes moved from the clay up to look at Elias himself. Rayne let his gaze roam, taking in the thin, short teenager. Everything about Elias grabbed Rayne, and he had to pay attention. He couldn't get enough of the blonde boy. Straightening, Elias cocked his head as he looked at the contorted snake. Then he glanced at Rayne. "What do you think?" With a laugh, Rayne shook his head. "It's crazy. I mean, it's really good." He had a dumbfounded look on his face. "I swear, it's like a superpower to me." He motioned at the sculpture. "That you can just do this." Elias laughed. "Well, that's the worst superpower ever!" He grinned, then washed his hands in a semi-clear bucket of water that sat nearby. Rayne loved to just watch him. He liked how Elias moved, the way he laughed, and how he looked. But mostly, Rayne loved how Elias made him feel. He never felt judged or looked down on. Elias accepted him. All of Rayne's flaws and his imperfections were merely a part of him. Elias didn't focus on those. Instead, he concentrated on Rayne as a whole and complete person. It was a new thing, and he hadn't realized how much he needed that sort of interaction until he began to get it. Elias finished washing up and smiled at the bigger-framed boy. "We've got a bit before dinner. You want to hang out a little?" "Yeah." Rayne didn't know exactly what to do with what he felt toward Elias, and it was almost as if Elias could sense that. The blonde teen stepped around Rayne and shut the door to the cabin. Then he turned to look at Rayne. Elias smiled. "I wanted to tell you that ... I like you." His eyes were sincere and unguarded. "I just want you to know that." Rayne swallowed. "Really?" He crossed his arms over his chest and smiled nervously. "Uh, I, I like you too." Grinning, Elias took a step closer. "Cool." His eyes stayed focused on Rayne's face. "I'd like to hug you. Is that okay?" Rayne nodded, and the boys hugged one another. Rayne breathed as he held Elias against his body. Then he laughed nervously. "Uh, sorry, I'm getting a boner." Elias leaned back a little and smiled reassuringly at Rayne. "So am I. It's okay." The blonde boy took a breath. "I want to do things with you but not that. Not yet. Okay?" Rayne nodded again, feeling something like relief. In truth, the thought of sex was both exciting and terrifying to the dark-haired youth. He wasn't ready for it. "What, ah, what kind of things did you want to do?" Elias wet his lips. "Well, I thought we could start with this." The blonde leaned forward. Rayne closed his eyes. There, in the muted light of a little cabin in the woods, he had his very first kiss. ♬♬♬ Bailey sat in the passenger seat of Harlan’s car. It wasn’t a long drive, and they pulled into the parking lot of Pacific Sushi in Brookings with ten minutes to spare. The men got out of the car and entered the place. Once inside, the server seemed to know Harlan, and the young woman greeted them with a happy smile. They were seated immediately. Bailey looked around, smiling at the decorations and furniture in the cozy place. Stained glass lamps were hanging over each wooden tabletop. High backed, straight bench seats were their seating arrangement. And though tables were tightly packed, even Bailey had enough leg room. Bailey still smiled when his eyes ceased their roaming and landed on Harlan. Harlan had requested a spot in the corner, and he took the seat with the wall to his back. His green gaze was on Bailey, and a little smile was on his face. "I like this place." Harlan glanced around. "It has good food, and it's not too busy if you know the right times to come." He grinned. "Plus, they remember a good tipper." Bailey laughed. He pointed at Harlan, raised his eyebrows, and rubbed his fingers against his thumb tip. You tip well? Bailey was hoping his intent would get across. Harlan frowned slightly. "Ah, sorry." His face shifted to a smile. "Can you write it for me?" The moment had passed, and Bailey sighed. He shook his head and waved his hand. This is going to be tough. A flicker of disappointment passed across Harlan's face. Then his eyes moved to a point over Bailey's shoulder, locking onto someone at the front of the restaurant. "I'm supposed to meet them here. Ah, one of them is named Bailey. I'm not sure what name the reservation is under." Bailey's eyes widened. Shawn! He stood up and turned. His co-worker stood at the front of the place talking with the person at the little reception area. He looked good. Though he had on jeans, they were new, still dark blue and unscathed by the hard work done by the guys. He wore brown boots and had on a pearl-snap button-up, gray denim shirt. His blonde hair was styled nicely, and his head came up when Bailey appeared. "Ah, there they are!" Shawn smiled affably at the server. "Thank you." Then the young man walked toward them. Bailey got out of the booth, as did Harlan. Shawn stopped, and signed while he spoke verbally. "Sorry, I'm late." Then he turned to Harlan. "Hi, I'm Shawn. And I'm here to interpret for Bailey." Bailey grinned at Shawn. Then he watched Harlan. For his part, Harlan accepted this new situation with a thoughtful expression. He slowly nodded, then stuck out his hand. "Hello, Shawn. I'm Harlan. Thanks for your help." While they shook hands, the brown-haired man chuckled. "Ah, this is a new thing for me. So, pardon me if I seem a little off." Shawn laughed. "Yeah, well, I get that. I've never done this for a date before." He smiled. "My goal is to be an instrument. I'm going to sit quietly unless I'm needed. I won't talk, or interact otherwise. The goal is for me to fade into the background." Harlan seemed to relax a little. "Okay. That sounds good." Bailey felt a vast appreciation for Shawn at that moment. He put a hand on Shawn's back and grinned. Shawn slid into the booth on Harlan's side so that he could see Bailey. Then he frowned. "Uh, why don't you guys sit on the same side? I'll take the other." Harlan made a noise. "Yeah. That sounds great." The men shifted spots, and soon they were settled. Harlan and Bailey sat with their backs to the wall, and Shawn was across from them. They all perused their menus. The place served sushi of all kinds, along with various Japanese soups, appetizers, meat and noodle dishes. Bailey's mouth watered just reading the offerings of the restaurant. Harlan closed his menu and glanced over at Bailey. He turned his body, and tapped Bailey's shoulder. When Bailey turned, Harlan signed. "All the sushi is good, and the soup." Bailey grinned. Harlan shrugged. "I didn't know we'd have help talking. So I practiced some stuff." "Thank you." Bailey signed, and Shawn dutifully translated. Though Bailey was fairly sure Harlan knew that sign, the man had the grace to simply smile his thanks to Shawn. Harlan folded his hands on top of the menu. "So, you're an engineer?" He glanced at Shawn, and then back to his black-haired date. "You know each other through your work? What do you do there?" Bailey nodded and began to sign. Shawn expertly translated the conversation. Though, the blonde blushed and grinned when Bailey added some at the end. "Without Shawn, I wouldn't have a job. Granite wouldn't be able to employ me. So I'm thankful for his help." Harlan smiled at Shawn. "Thanks, Shawn." The flushed young man laughed and waved a hand. "You're both welcome, but, I'm not here." He pointed at Bailey. "You're making it hard to just be a part of the background!" Bailey grinned, then the expression slipped. "I hope you're not uncomfortable." Shawn sighed. "I was at first at the thought. I'm fine now." He gave Bailey a chagrined expression. "Sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel bad." Harlan glanced back and forth at the exchange. "I caught about twenty percent of that." Shawn nodded and explained. "Well, when Bailey first asked if I could do this, I, ah, I didn't react the best way." He grimaced. "I don't know many gay people. And it took a little bit for me to wrap my head around it." He grinned at Bailey. "Besides, I've been promised dinner." Bailey put his head back and laughed. Then he turned to Harlan. "Not a cheap date!" Before Shawn could translate, Harlan laughed. Shawn sniffed, straightening in his seat. "Hell no, I'm not a cheap date." He took a renewed interest in the menu. "All right. Let's see, what sounds expensive and delicious?" Harlan smirked and looked over at Bailey who grinned at him. Then Bailey signed at Shawn. The blonde's expression softened, and he smiled. Shawn leaned over the table toward Harlan. "He said that you're worth it." Harlan focused on Bailey. "Yeah? You really think so?" Bailey nodded, then he leaned forward. The men kissed, and, for a second, Bailey forgot Shawn was there. He was entirely in the moment with Harlan, his skin tingling with sensation as they kissed. The men pulled back, and Bailey looked into Harlan's eyes. God, you're handsome. He stayed facing Harlan and signed it. Shawn translated. The moment was seamless, and the pair continued to smile. Thanks to the high backs of the booths, they were secluded in their own little private area. Nobody but Shawn could see them. Harlan smiled at him, his warm hand on the back of Bailey's neck. "I'm glad you think so, Bailey." His eyes ventured over Bailey's face. "Because you blow me away." Harlan bit his lip. "Yeah. Everything about you is ah, it's amazing." Harlan shook his head. "And not just how you look. But how brave you were when you saved Rayne." Bailey wasn't sure if Harlan had caught that detail when Elias had said something at the picnic table. Apparently he had. He shrugged. "Couldn't let the boy drown." Shawn translated, and Bailey could tell he now had questions about what had happened, though he kept them to himself. At that moment, the server appeared. Soon their orders were taken, and the guys continued to talk. It got easier to open up as the evening went on for Bailey. And at one point, Harlan asked how he'd gotten his injury. Bailey signed his way through the story. Both Harlan and Shawn looked fascinated as he told it. While detailing the part where the beam of superheated, flaming gas was just a foot over his back as he crawled across the floor, Shawn shook his head. His expression was one of near disbelief. "Jesus. I'd have shit my pants." Shawn shivered. "Sorry. I'll keep my comments to myself from here on." Though the only reaction from Harlan at the comment was a smile and an agreeable nod of his head. Their food arrived, and the men started to eat. Periodically, they would pick up their chat. And thanks to Shawn, Bailey got to dive into his questions. "What did you do, before you worked for your dad?" Shawn repeated the question for Bailey. "Well, when I was nineteen I left home. And I wanted to get as far from here as I could. So I took a job working security for an Italian businessman. I had to learn the language, and learn the job too. But they were willing to teach me if I was able to guarantee that I'd stick around." Harlan smiled. "A kid from Crescent City got to go, live and work in Italy." He shrugged. "It was a dream come true, and the chance of a lifetime." He stirred his miso soup with his chopsticks, hunting for a chunk of tofu with the implements. "After a little more than a decade, I had enough of Europe, and I searched for a job closer to home." He popped a savory morsel into his mouth and swallowed his bite. "I found it in a spot at a resort in Idaho. Again, it was a great job. And even while working for the resort, I stayed on as a part-time employee, doing security consulting for my old boss. So every month I have to go to Idaho and meet up with his representative there. Then every year or so, I head to Italy and do some in-person work." He glanced at Bailey. "And that's pretty much me." Bailey thought about what Harlan said. Then he signed rapidly at Shawn. "What sort of training did you do for your security work? Did you have a law enforcement background or something?" Harlan shook his head. "No. Most of that stuff, I learned from a man already employed by my old boss. A lot of his security concerns are unique to his organization. He's a businessman in an area which is rife with organized crime." Harlan smiled. "So I had to learn a lot about the Italian mafia, their methods, and how to counteract them." Bailey blinked. Then he signed at Shawn. The blonde man wiped his mouth and shook his head. "No, I don't know the sign for 'mafia'." He frowned. "Never had to sign that one before." Shawn made the sign for "mob" at Bailey. "I think this will have to do. But I know it's not exactly right." Bailey nodded. Context would have to play a part in communicating 'mafia' instead of an unruly group of people—which was the exact definition of the sign Shawn had used for 'mob.' Their night continued, and it wasn't long before they had cleaned their plates, bowls, and little platters of food. They all did a lot of sharing, and everyone got to try the various rolls ordered. The check came, and Shawn reached for his wallet. "Bailey, I'm not going to make you pay for my food, man." With a shake of his head, he took out some twenty dollar bills. "I appreciate it, but I'm not gonna do that to you." Bailey made a distressed face. He began to sign his disagreement when Harlan nodded at the bill. "This one's on me." He smiled at the guys. "I insist." He calmly reached and took the bill. Shawn smiled. "You sure?" Harlan nodded. "Yep." Shawn chuckled and looked at Bailey. He signed and spoke at once. "This mean you have to put out?" Bailey almost choked on the sip of water he had started to take. Harlan smirked as he recovered. Bailey shook his head and pointed his finger accusingly at Shawn, though he grinned. I guess Shawn is okay with everything after all. Bailey was reassured by the joking from his younger coworker. If he was comfortable enough to joke around, then Bailey had little worries about what Monday morning would be like when he arrived at the worksite. Harlan settled up the bill, and the three left the building. They stood outside, and Shawn waved as he walked to his vehicle. "See you Monday, Bailey." He smiled at Harlan. "Thanks for dinner, Harlan." Harlan nodded. "No problem. Thanks for helping us out." Shawn grinned. "You know, I was happy to do it." He opened his truck, pausing a moment. "Let me know if you fellas need me to do this again. Seriously." He shook his head with a smile. "I actually enjoyed it. You guys are both interesting as hell." "Thank you, Shawn." Bailey signed and waved as Shawn got into his truck. Then he and Harlan got into the car. Harlan started on the drive back, and as he pulled onto the dark highway, he glanced over at Bailey. "Did you have a good time?" Bailey nodded and pointed at Harlan, his eyebrows raised. Did you? Harlan nodded. "Yeah, I did." He grinned. "I wasn't sure about having Shawn there at first, but it worked out. It was nice to be able to talk." Bailey agreed. He reached over and put a hand on Harlan's leg. Harlan looked thoughtful as he drove. "I'm going to try really hard to learn more ASL." He set his jaw. "I want to be able to talk to you myself." Bailey grinned and took out his phone. There was an app he could use which would read text he input into the machine. And he began to type away. Finished, he hit 'play.' "I'm worth that to you." The computerized voice had zero inflection, so it didn't sound like a question, though Harlan knew that it was. Harlan smiled. "Yeah, you're worth it, Bailey." Bailey again put his hand on Harlan's leg. And as they drove home, he felt the start of something he hadn't experienced in a long while—hope.

Hi, Stefanlinx. They're far from perfect, but that’s what makes them human. The story was meant to be goofy, but it has some more serious elements running through it. We’re glad you’re enjoying it!

Grant is afraid. He values what he has with both Troy and all of the friends. He's got a lot to lose now. This is something he put off just a bit too long, and now ... well, now he's worried. Thanks for the comment!

First you need some talent for the written word. Second and maybe the biggest thing is: Authors have to improve themselves. I agree entirely. I used to believe everyone could write if only they wanted to. I'm nothing special when it comes to the written word, but I know how to build a story. Which ... turns out is sorta special after all. It took quite a while before I realized that was true. So ... I've got it. That little spark we need to tell a coherent, compelling tale. For anybody with that spark, the second bit is the toughest. Without practice and exposure to that which we want to achieve we'll never improve. It's up to nobody but us. We have to be willing to hear the bad in addition to the good. We have to understand that our talent isn't perfect. It lets us begin the process of storytelling, but it doesn't make us masters of it. That's up to us. And the path to better are all of those things you listed above. Nice post, tim. Thank you.

That’s certainly how they see it.

Thank you, Tyri. I like these characters a lot, and they fit one another well. I’d very much want to meet them all in person - even Georgette!

Thank you, molly. 🙂 I look back at the beginning of this story, at Greg first laying eyes on the campground. I roll around with him as he considers what could be. How the dream grew from his leap of faith to a place where all of these connections were possible. It really became a refuge. I used to not like him much - Greg. He felt sort of plain. But someone once said (paraphrasing here) "He's steady. He's calm, sure, and steady and many times he's the only one who is." And I guess that's true. Sorry ... this is all tangential to your comment. For some reason my brain went back to the beginning when reading it, and it made me think of those first, few moments when the dream became "real." Thanks for the affirmation of how Orson felt relating to Elias moving out. He knows it's good and right, but emotionally ... well, it still hurts. I'm glad I got that right.

OMG ... that sounds awful! lol Nice chapter, tim. I like Smeeth's dedication. It's good to have a friend willing to jump on a boat to come to our rescue!

Thanks, Parker. I thought the title fit too. Man, that moment when the word "Dad" slipped out of Elias's mouth ... frankly, I wondered if it was too much when I first wrote it. Elias has only been with Orson for a year, but he has really grown tremendously. It is almost entirely thanks to Orson that he has. So, I decided that it wasn't too much. That Orson has filled the void left in Elias' heart a father - a Dad would occupy. Good question concerning Elias, Rayne and Huck. Good question indeed. 😄

Isn't that funny? How a little slip in conversation reaffirms Orson's place in Elias' life, right when Orson needed it? They will be fine, because there's just too strong of a connection (and love) there for them not to be. That shell you mention around Harlan is slowly getting peeled back. It's effortless on Bailey's part, too. It's just happening because Bailey is allowing Harlan to explore emotion in a way he never has before. And ... Bailey isn't exactly immune either. 🙂 Thanks for the great comments, Quixo.

It's one of my favorite moments too. I'm really glad it appealed so much. I do think Joseph is right as well; Elias loves Orson, and needs him the way a kid should need his parent. In Elias' life, there has been no more important person than Orson. That little slip, that single word showed it in a way that nothing else could have. Thanks, Fae.

Yes, I'm not a fan of music "shared" when I am not interested in hearing it either! Thanks, tim. And I'll join you in working on ours either after work today or tomorrow. Soon, regardless!

Gotcha, huh? Good. 🙂 Thanks, Geemeedee.