The Queer Shelf Book Club E2 | “A Dash of Salt & Pepper” – Pride, Love & Vulnerability 📚

In this episode of The Queer Shelf Book Club, we’re diving into A Dash of Salt & Pepper by Kosoko Jackson. This story goes beyond romance and into something more layered—exploring identity, pride, vulnerability, and what it means to be truly seen. 

Through Xavier and Logan, we unpack the tension between who we present ourselves to be and who we actually are… and how love has a way of challenging both. This conversation touches on emotional honesty, ego, connection, and the work it takes to choose someone—not just when it’s easy, but when it requires growth.

And yes… I had a few very strong reactions along the way.

Cheers! 

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:14

This is What Helps You, a Mental Health Podcast. Hey everyone, and welcome back to the Queer Shelf Book Club, a sub-series of What Helps You, a mental health podcast. I'd like to ask you something. When was the last time a book sat with you after you closed it? Not just entertained you, not just distracted you, but kind of unsettled you, kind of stressed you, held the mirror up to you. To me, there's something really regulating about reading. It slows you down, it asks you to pay attention. It invites you to sit with emotion instead of scrolling past it. And that's because reading isn't passive, it's relational, it's an exchange. A writer offers you a truth and you decide what to do with it. And queer stories. Well, I refute the idea that they're niche, they're actually necessary, like oxygen. The queer show book club exists because, like oxygen, representation of queer people is not a luxury, it's a necessity, I think. And you might ask me why? Well, because queer stories challenge the default, they complicate the narrative, they remind us that love, grief, shame, survival, and desire have never belonged to just one kind of person or people. For example, straight people. Queer stories are revolutionary. And for many of us, especially queer readers, stories of us and by us can feel like validation, like someone saying, Hey, I felt that too. You're not strange, you're definitely not alone either. Now, on the flip side, right, books don't fix everything, but they can normalize, they can articulate, they can witness. And sometimes being witnessed, even through fiction, is healing in and of itself. And that's why I'm here to help us read closely, to help us think critically, to help us feel fully, and to honor stories that expand what it means to belong and to make it personal. For so long as a young man, I grew up feeling like I didn't belong, feeling like I hated myself, like I was weird, like I had no place. But turns out the entire time I did belong and I did find a place. I just had to see other people like me. And that exposure gave me courage, taught me self-love over time, and set me on this path head first into queer reading and the undeniable head gate in charge of books. And yeah, I just said that and I meant it. So put that under my contact. That's your boy. I genuinely love this, and I want you to know that I love you for being here because I recognize that you being here takes effort, and effort is one of the most pure forms of love in my book. So open your mind, take a breath, and let's begin. Because this kind of book you have to digest. You sit with it and you feel. See, a dash of salt and pepper is technically a romance story, but it's not just about falling in love. It's about what happens when love collides with ambition, when pride meets vulnerability, and when two grown adults, both of whom I fully envisioned as a finest head in my head, and the cover definitely backed me up on that. So I'm loving this third-eye sort of thing I got going on. Realize that they can outperform their own hearts. It's big city meets small town, it's ego meets intimacy. It's I have a plan meets I really didn't plan for you. And honestly, on paper, girl, they shouldn't worry about. So the question is, did it? Well, let's start where the story begins. Xavier made it out of his small, though quaint hometown, Harper's Cove, Maine. NYU for undergrad, then U Chicago for his MBA. One would say he was on track to change the world. But here he was, standing in his childhood kitchen, the same kitchen he swore he would outgrow. Harper's Cove, the quiet town that Xavier came from and somehow found himself back in, was supposed to be a stepping stone, a new beginning, not a return address. He had plans. Big plans, my boy. I'm talking Berlin, the Carey Foundation, prestige, a life, honestly, that required airports and tailor jackets and rooms where people said his name, like, oh my God, it's really you. And if you really want to understand Xavier, you have to hear him say it himself. Let me be perfectly clear. There's nothing wrong with living your whole life in Harper's Cove, population 9,000, stars hollow. I mean, Harper's Cove, seriously, we're nearly the same population size, the same single high school and middle school combined, everything is a great place to settle down and raise a family if the quiet life is what you want. It's why my parents moved here from Washington, DC when I was barely six months old. It's just not the life for me, which is why as soon as I graduated from high school, I got the fuck out of here and intended to never look back. Well, instead, he's home, laid off and broken up with by his bitch-ass boyfriend Bradley. Sorry, but I do not like him. And Xavier tells himself that it's temporary. But temporary can be an interesting and beautiful lie because temporary makes failure feel strategic. Temporary makes landing softer. Temporary lets you pretend you're still in control. But then comes a moment that sets everything in motion. Chapter one. Like some comical duo, Naga and I both look up and toward the half-cracked open door at the same time. Our heads turn to one another and sink too. You heard that? Her cockpit says. You did too? I ask silently, nodding. A text from mom 45 minutes ago. Went into Portland to meet with Robbie. Biscuits on the counter. Siri, input love you emoji. That's honestly such a mopping, white girl. The emoji isn't there. It's you telling Siri that. Yeah, alright. I push the door open all the way, stepping onto the carpeted hallway. Whoever's in the house made a beeline straight for the kitchen. Suddenly, the man closes the fridge and turns. Before he can open his mouth on his handsome face with a sharp jaw, slightly salt and pepper, scruff, and hair, my body reacts. Shit, he yells, covering his eyes. He stumbles back. Based on how snug those jeans are, legs tripping over the mat by the sink. He falls on his ass. Perfect. Naga, attack, I order. I think that's an easy command. She's a dog. I'm under assault. Attack pretty much covers what I want her to do. Except, for whatever reason, my message gets lost in translation. Maybe in dog, attack means something different, but it's sure as hell shouldn't mean jump on him and start licking the man's face. Some protector she is. I think Naga recognizes the sexiness too and is trying to get as much as she can. And just like that, the tone is set. Not romance. Not yet, at least. As of right now, it's pretty much chaos. The man in the house is Logan. Salt and pepper beard, broad shoulders, steady posture, calm voice. He's there to pick up cupcakes that Xavier's mom left for him to grab while she was away. Cupcakes. I'm more of a pie guy myself, but cupcakes can be cute. So who sounded the home intruder alarm? Well, the dichotomy is crazy. Xavier sprayed the danger. Logan was just there for frosting. Already the story whispers something really important symbolically, which is that Xavier anticipates that. Logan embodies steadiness. And that steadiness destabilizes Xavier far more than danger ever could. Because danger is something that you can fight, but steadiness is something you have to face. Xavier notices Logan's body immediately. So did I. The way his shirt clings, the way he doesn't shrink, the way he moves like someone comfortable in his own skin, salt and pepper stubble, ponytail, and tattoos galore, he might have a little something going on. I'm not gonna lie, Logan, he might be doing something. Attraction hits without permission for Xavier. But my boy is resisting. Hey, so it turns out you might have been correct, I say, beginning my spiel before I round the corner. So considering that there is a slight chance I'm in the wrong, I just wanted to accept no one's there. Not a single person is in the kitchen. Just emptiness and the memory of Logan, his wet t-shirt, and a single fucking cupcake on the counter. So honestly, the cupcake on the counter is sending me, and it's funny because I really don't know, and I mean this with full honesty. I don't know if him leaving the cupcake there was meant to be petty, or if it was actually like a genuine, nice gesture. Either way, I'm laughing on the floor right now. So like it's funny to me, at least you know, I think it's funny. He came, he got cupcakes, he left. And Xavier does not feel good right now because Xavier is someone who likes control, he likes being right, and in the moment, he has neither. He's standing there with his split in his mouth, pride bruised, ego checked. But here's the thing, and this is important. Xavier isn't too proud to admit when he's wrong. He can resist, he can be defensive, he can some would argue be dramatic. But honestly, there's nothing wrong with a little drama. Some people just can't handle sauce. But, and this is what I love about him. He's not a delusional narcissist. He knows he owes Logan an apology, and that small moment, that willingness to course correct, might be the first crack in the version of himself he's been clinging to. The one the big cities built. Because, I mean, you know, let's be honest, a 12-year-old from Manhattan has basically already renegotiated a lease and survived a messy situationship with Connor in the classroom. The cracks are how new beginnings start. Chapter 3. Maya is a mirror. Beautifully dark-skinned, flowing locks, the kind of face that makes you see the ancestors really took their time. On this one is Maya. Like Xavier, she's a Harper's Cove native, what they call a culvert, born and raised. They don't leave, y'all, they just circulate. She married her high school sweetheart and built her life right there. Maya is Xavier's best friend. But more than that, she's his rock. She knew him before the degrees, before the ambition, before the curated version of himself. She knows a raw footage, not just the highlighted reel, pretty much. She teases him, she calls him out, she doesn't let him perform because Xavier can live in his head sometimes. Maya pulls him back into his body. She's not impressed by Berlin. She's impressed by honesty. She's funny AF, but she's not just here for comedic relief. She's emotional accountability, and she's the warmth of home you need when everything else feels uncertain. Maya drinks alcohol like she drinks water. Her words, not mine. You know, I'm still upset you're making me drink this swill instead of I told you already, Xavier interrupts. You should be happy I came out. Because being in your presence is such a grace. Exactly. And you love me. Debatable, I love alcohol, and you provided that correction. I agree to come out with you so you can get alcohol, I remind her. You're paying because you're broke. I know. It's nice to just exist with her. To be out of the house and pretend, even for a moment, that the shit storm waiting for me at home doesn't exist. So if the price I have to pay is a few cheap jokes, then so be it. Plus, I know they aren't serious. If I really needed help, Maya would help me out any way she could, without question. Maya and I have been friends since we were both assigned to Miss Lawson's first grade class. She still teaches at the school, by the way, and helped Maya get her job. We bought in over being the only two kids in class of 12 who like the color purple. I'm assuming I know the rest of the demographic of the classroom. Since then, we've been nearly inseparable. But more importantly, please elaborate on how you and Logan almost fucked on your kitchen floor two days ago, says Maya. A spray of coke leaves my mouth and almost coats Maya's face. But I have enough so to turn to the side, instead, giving the potted plants and the outdoor part of the bar a shower. So questions I have are: Is Zabir actually ready? Is he avoiding grief? Can you move on quickly and still have love deeply? Is there ever a fully healed state? Well, I love the two of them together. Their banter shows how much love and history they have. Maya doesn't let him breathe when it comes to men. And part of me understands that. That's what friends report. Bradley, his terrible, privileged ex did him dirty. And Xavier wants forward motion. But here's what I keep thinking, and this is where I landed. Are you running from pain or are you moving through it? Because I think Xavier is moving through it and isn't avoiding his pain. He's sitting in it, he's unemployed, he's back home, he's embarrassed, he's bruised, and he's still showing up. He apologizes, he reflects, he course corrects. And that's not avoidance to me. That's someone trying imperfectly to heal. Xavier is trying to heal, not avoid. And I respect that he's not centering on any man right now. Of course, we notice if it agenes, of course, we clock the confidence. Of course, we're not blind. And of course, I have my thoughts. But attraction isn't the focus. Growth is. And I love that. Chapter 4, The Dinner. Xavier, my mom asks before I can even tell my shoes off. Come into the living room. What are you doing here? I say before I can attempt to make the words sound nicer. Mom glares at me in that way that every kid knows is just a tip of the emotional iceberg. But I do my absolute best to ignore it. Mom uses the dividing shirt like doors to dampen the sound just a bit. What is wrong with you? She hisses. Why is he here? I ask, quieter this time, correcting my tone to be more curious and less accusatory. Logan is a family friend, Xavier, she says, handing me the wooden spoon. Spreading the frost and seems to still be my honor. I promised my mom I would be decent. I didn't tell her I'd be social. And those are two very different things. You'll have to excuse my son. He hasn't eaten all day. He ran out of the house this morning without breakfast. Don't worry, Janice and Shelton. I understand. Anne gets the same way when she hasn't eaten, Logan says, flicking his eyes towards me for one brief second. I know what it looks like to have children. Then there's the last piece. It's perfect. Not as perfect as the one I gave to mom, but damn good. I should give it to Logan. I should take the ugly piece. It's all aesthetic, sure, but it's the right thing to do. He is the guest after all. I can feel my mom's eyes on me. She knows what I'm thinking. She knows me better than I like to think or let on. Be the good son, Xavier. Do the right thing, Xavier. It's just a piece of cake, Xavier. Both are going to taste the same. Screw that. I push the ugly, malformed piece toward Logan. Xavier won, Logan Zero. Well, if you like the icing, did you know that it's Xavier's recipe? And if I'm correct, you're still looking for a sous-chef? I think my son would excuse me, I say quickly, dropping my fork and knife, letting the loud clamoring of metal against ceramic break my mom's train of thought. Standing up quickly, I pushed the chair from behind me and walked to my room. Suddenly, I'm not hungry for kick anymore. So Logan, the intruder from chapter one, is now sitting comfortably in Xavier's living room. He's invited, he's welcomed, he's familiar. And Xavier, my man is blindsided. He walks in hella defensive, sharp, already irritated. Not because Logan isn't attractive, but because Logan unsettles him for some reason. And here's the twist: Logan isn't a random man. You know, like he's a family friend at this point, which means he wasn't there for the first time. Logan's been there for dinner already. And I think that is partially what gets under Xavier's skin. His mom immediately corrects him, pulls him into the kitchen, makes him adjust his tone. We watch Xavier regress. All of his degrees, all of his ambition, all of his, I'm above this town. And suddenly he's just someone's son. And then comes the cake moment. He knows he should give Logan the perfect slice. He knows what the right thing is. And he doesn't do it. Xavier won, Logan zero. That line is telling. He turns generosity into a competition. Because if he can't win emotionally, he'll win symbolically. And then the real ego hits. Janice tells Logan that icing is Xavier's recipe. She suggests he'd make a great susha. The knife draw, the excuse me, the exit. He's not mad about Logan. He's humiliated. Logan pretty much made him the child in the room with his daughter, Janice. Like, I clocked that. That was funny. That was good. Like, that was definitely a Logan one. But he's humiliated because of that, but then also because needing Logan threatens the identity. He's built. And a power dynamic in a room. It's fascinating. Logan has a teenage daughter. Logan speaks calmly. Logan says, I know what it's like to have a kid. And just like that, Xavier isn't the accomplished NBA. Logan and his parents are the adults in a room. That shift devastating someone who prides himself on controlled and polished accomplishment. And yet, the banter is still real. It's messy, passive aggressive, but it's charged. It's a lie. Chapters 5 and 6, The Fellowship Call. When my phone rings at 4 a.m., I think someone is dying. Good morning. Is this Xavier Reynolds? The voice is British and far too happy for 4 a.m. Do you know what time it is? The sound of shuffling on the other end is almost soothing enough to put me back to sleep. The shrill squeak that follows most certainly wakes me up. Oh my goodness. I'm so sorry. It's 10 a.m. here in Berlin. May I ask you why you're calling me, Miss Cunningham? There's been a change of plans. The change of plans? I meant to say in my head, what does that mean? A member of the fellows is now getting married and he's passing on a fellowship, which means a slot has opened up and they are giving it to me. Me, a black kid with no job, is going to Berlin for a year on a fellowship to learn from some of the greatest minds about business. Coupled with my NBA and the experience, plus the recommendation and connections I'll give from this place. I'll be running a Fortune 500 company before I'm 40. This is it. This is my time. This is my moment. This, Mr. Reynolds, did you hear me? I accept my bird out. I accept the fellowship. $5,000. They need it in two months. Maya lets out a whistle that is akin to someone saying the words, fucking shit. But she's trying to cut down on her cursing, supposedly. Well, Maya says while children dance on her feet, doing her best to not step on them. I do have one last option. Logan's place is still hiring. A suship, I think, no. And he's hot. You say that like that changes things. And he has a man bun, she argues. Is this 2012? And tattoos. Those are timeless. Did I mention he was hot? Suddenly donating blood, maybe even an OnlyFans, doesn't seem like such a bad idea. So this is the ego revival. It's 4 a.m. He thinks someone is dying, but instead, his dream costs. Berlin. The fellowship. The validation. And you can feel how quickly his mind jumps from unemployed to Fortune 500 CEO before 40. He doesn't just want Berlin. He wants proof. Proof that Harper's Co. wasn't delusional. Proof that Bradley didn't derail him. Proof that he is who he thinks he is. And then $5,000 reality, period. Because ambition is expensive. He's already put down $1,500, which was all he had at the time. Now he has two months to find the rest. And suddenly the person he resents, the town he swears he's outgrown, the restaurant he's mopped becomes his only viable option. Well, that's the irony. The very place he wants to escape might be the thing that funds his escape. And he's not enthusiastic. Because accepting help from Logan feels like swallowing pride. But pride doesn't pay $5,000. Chapter 7 through 10. Nostalgia and cracks in the armor. First day at the wharf and the shift. As it begins to unfold. Two hours secure. It's not like I'm short on opportunities. I stopped in an Oliver's olive shop and you guessed it daily to get some lunch. Turkey on rye with mustard and garlic mail before heading to St. Amos Park. When I was younger, before I went to work my ship at the movie theater, or when I needed to, well, to be anywhere else but here, I'd imagine a life for myself. The bench I used to always sit at is still there. With its worn and paint chip wooden slats and its dedication to Harper Amos, the founder of Harper's Cove. But everything is not the same. Directly across the street from me should be an art gallery. But that art gallery isn't there anymore. Instead, instead, it's the fucking wharf right fucking there. Right in the open. Like Logan is flaunting his success at me. Once I'm in front of the restaurant with the driftwood sign that has the blocky title of the wharf burned into its surface, I take a deep breath and say, This is good practice, Xavier. You will have to deal with plenty of pompous, stuck-up, cocky business owners if you want to work your way up the corporate ladder. Consider this practice. I take a deep breath and around a corner, doing my best to put a smile on my face. But I lose my worries when I see him dressed in a black t-shirt that shows his ink zoo covers, more than just his forearms. Logan is standing in the middle of the kitchen reenacting a poor man's version of risky business. He turns around, doing a Michael Jackson-like spin on his shoes and coming face to face with me. What in the hell? You've got 10 seconds to tell me what you're doing here. You know, that's rich considering you broke into my eight seconds. One, are you still looking for a sushi? Because if you are, I think you should hire me. A pot of, I'm guessing, tomato soup explodes. Like literally explodes on the stove right after I confess my intentions, covering us both in tomato puree. Sorry, can we start again? I haven't decided we're gonna try for the first time yet. One man's evil is another man's pleasure, but I'll hear me. You think you're the one to work in my restaurant? You think you're the person? I know I'm that person. I'm not looking for a sous chef. And if I was, I wasn't going to give it to someone who has no professional cooking experience. I'm sorry, that's a non-start. You're a hotshot NBA holder. Would you let someone run your, I don't know, crypto farm? Xavier, this is a trial run. 4 p.m., don't be late. And Xavier, hmm? I'm fucking ten times better a chef than Gordon Ramsay. What about Julia Child? Logan grabs saw and quickly throws it over his shoulder. Don't use the lord's name in vain like that. Move it, Latino woman about my age, roars as she barrels past me at speeds that no human should be able to walk fast. She's carrying that same large damp that played Logan before. Logan scams the room slowly, dressed in a white chef's coat, with sleeves rolled up, dark pants, crocs, and a bandana. Taste this, he says. Tell me what you think. Is this part of the test? This is part of being in the kitchen, he says. The kitchen is a found me, Xavier. We help each other, and we also critique each other. Well, Logan asks, the flavors absolutely explode in my mouth. Did you put watermelon in there? Watermelon puree, Angelica corrects. It's good, I say, but hesitation lingers in my voice. But who's gonna want a watermelon salad? I mean, this is Harper's Cove. You're not trying to win a Michelin star or anything. Office now. You can't say things like that to me. Like what? He gestures wildly with no direction. Undermining me like that in front of the staff. Did I undermine you? I think I just clarified. If you disagree with the meal, we talk about it. Which is easier to do if you're on time. Ticha? I want to work here. I say without hesitation. Won't happen again. Good, Ibotas. Now how good are you with the scaling fish? For some reason, Logan's words, I think you'd be a good addition, bounced around in my head like pins after a strike. I thought we had an unspoken agreement. This taming of the shrew us back and forth that we were settling into. And then he goes and compliments me like that. That wasn't in the rules. It's a ritual, he says. Deep baritone, voice in the back of his throat. We survived a dinner rush, we drink. That sounds dangerous. I wake up with a throbbing head that hurts more than a knife or an ice pig being jabbed down the center of my brain. And this isn't my fucking room. So the irony. Now Xavier is working for the enemy. At least that's how it feels at first. And initially, you're on Xavier's side because Logan does have a cockiness about him. But this is what we know about people who are cocky. Cockiness can be an armor, a wall, a coping mechanism. Sometimes it can just be confidence, but sometimes it's protection. Xavier hits a crossroads here. Not Berlin or the wharf, but Berlin requires the wharf. The real choice is this: protect his pride or invest in his future. Because the very place he resents is a place that might fund his escape, the wharf. Pride rarely produces anything good. So he swallows it, takes the plunge. And what he finds that the wharf isn't an enemy, it's a family. Logan isn't just sharp and confident, he's intentional, he's collaborative. He believes in rising and falling together. That's new for Xavier because he's used to competing, performing, outthinking the room in the big cities. But now there's a shift. And Xavier didn't sign up for it. He wasn't prepared for it. He definitely should have woken up in his own bed the next morning. But instead, he wakes up somewhere vulnerable, and that's when it clicks. They can't outperform their own hearts. Not in business, not in pride, not in banter, not in avoidance. Something is unfolding, and neither of them, I think, is fully ready and in control of it anymore. 11 through 17. Pulled into his world, the role makes it harder to lie, being chosen, the fake becomes fragile, the life he's leading, the line blurs, the first real choice. What are you doing? The voice makes me jump, high enough that my head almost bumps with the ceiling. I twirl around, changing my stamps and putting my arms up in the defensive boxing position. But it's pretty clear by the way this red-headed girl looks at me that she is not impressed. Were you trying to sneak out? She asks, munching loudly. I was. A beat. How was I doing? Be honest. She shrugs. Pretty sucky, to be honest. Is your dad around? How back chopping wood? Of course he is. I mutter what I think is under my breath. Logan blinks at me outlessly. Oh, you're up. That would be the case, or maybe I'm sleepwalking. I pat my chest, my cheeks, and my thighs to check. Nope. Fully awake. Question. Did you know that between four and eight percent of adults sleepwalk? It's pretty common. You don't need to feel ashamed, Logan says. Picking up on my feels. Everyone gets drunk. And it means you're bonding with the team. Dad, Anne says, as she comes out of the living room, passing me as I head to the stairs. Can we take Xavier to town when we go? Once I drop off her to school, I'll take you home, Logan says. Cool? That is a great chauffeur, Anne says. I'm sure your dad is good. I cut myself off before I can finish. Logan glances at me, narrowing his still blue eyes. On second thought, how about I get out here, I offered. I know you said you dragged me, and I appreciate it. But I want to talk to Maya before I go, and home isn't that far. Oh no, Logan shakes his head. You didn't think I was going to lay off that easily, did you? I mean, I was hoping. Nope, you're coming with me. I need some help today anyway. And you said so yourself. You're not doing anything important. Logan, he booms so loud that everyone stands around looking over at us. My man, my friend, my brother, he says, beckoning us built over. Seth hasn't changed a bit. From a purely logical standpoint, I can see why people find him attractive. Perhaps in another universe, I would even find him attractive enough to make a move. But there are enough lines in the universe barring that from happening. My boyfriend Bradley and I broke up before I came here. Well, he broke up with me when I lost my job in Chicago. But his loss, Logan says without looking at me. But you're gay. Sounds like a shitty guy, and you deserve someone who is definitely less shitty. Logan grabs my arm gently, but firm enough to stop me and make me look at him. Did your boyfriend Brady Bradley Bradley never paper things for you? Logan holds the door open for me at the bottom of the steps. So now that we're here, I say as we cross one busy streets that leads us down a ship of quaint shops that reminds us too much of Harper's Cove. Shopping? He finally answers. I brought you here because you're my preksha, and this is my ritual. And a part of me, a very small part, is happy he didn't just drop me off back home before heading into Portland. But he can never know that. Oh my god, Xavier? Stacy Lee? Oh my god, it's actually you. And who is this handsome fellow? He's my boyfriend, Logan says. To add to the mass, Logan wraps his arm around me, pulling me closer. Those are the type of people you hung out with, huh? He asks. Don't. Logan gives me a cheeky smile as he holds the door open to cook shop plus for me. You're not gonna drop this, are you? No, absolutely not. The aqueduct is that awkward distance from Maya's house where it's too far to walk, though it's technically walkable. Hello, the deep barricone says. I'm Logan O'Hare, but many of you know me as the owner of the Wharfed, right down the street. Right now, I'm just the lead singer of Stevie Trix, named after my good friend here Stevie on drums, who came up with the idea of the band. So let's all have a good time, enjoy the booze, the food, and most importantly, the music. I quickly step my gaze to Maya, who's sipping her drink, inconspicuously trying to avoid my eyes. Hey heads up, Maya Muddis, your boss is looking at us. So what if Logan is here? So what if he's singing an amazing cover, Ocean Avenue, and hitting all the right notes? So what if the way his raspy voice cracks intentionally makes it sound like he's singing directly in my ear? Well, that was mean of you. Of course he has an opinion. You're drunk, aren't you? I brush off. Oh absolutely, he smirks. But that doesn't make what I said less true. And if I don't want to say it anymore, Logan shrugs, moving a step closer, pushing me against the counter and causing my back to press into it. He closes in, smelling his glow, mixing with the scent of beer and sweat, creating something almost musky but intoxicating at the same time. Well, he whispers as he leans in, breath skimming my lips. I'm pretty sure I can think of some ways to get it out of you. Oh, okay, it's getting a little hot, but back to it. Well, Logan whispers, quieter, huskier. What's the answer, Xavier? I nod slowly. He pulls his hand away and slides it down my arm to give my right hand a squeeze. Then let's go, Xavier, into the unknown. He smiles, tugging me onto the dance floor with him. And for once, maybe for the first time in a little long time, I don't question if this is right or wrong. I just, you know, do it. Ding! They've got me over here sighing a hopeful. What embells ringing in my head, and I'm already debating color schemes. But we're not there yet, so I'm gonna pull myself back. This is still the beginning. But that shift, the corner was just turning, and there's no going back. Logan's got real friends in Portland, farm and naval connections, history, people who know him. Xavier's got Stacey Lee, it seems in Portland, or at least that's how it feels, when she shows up scanning the room and clocking the situationship energy between them. And Logan, he reads the room. My man steps in, claims boyfriend like it's nothing, and that word lands for Xavier. It feels good to him. Almost too good. A kiss on the cheek that's supposed to sell the lie, too, but maybe it's also testing the truth. Then we find out Logan's in a band. His ex-wife was his bandmate. He's on stage, a little drunk, definitely staring. Xavier's leaning in, letting himself be pulled onto the death floor and to the unknown. So at this point, I've got my skinny popcorn, my dad line tea, my favorite flannel on. I'm locked in and ready to go. And here's what I love about this, and what I've had to learn myself when it comes to being comfortable with love. Love doesn't have to reveal all the answers immediately. It doesn't have to announce itself with fireworks and certainty. Sometimes it's being surprised. It's just trusting the process while staying intentional. And Xavier finally is letting the process play itself out instead of trying to overthink it. And for the first time since being back home, Xavier isn't running. Chapters 18 through 20. When the charm cracks, chemistry meets consequence, golden bullies bleed too, attraction under pressure, responsibility arrives. I'm not going to sit here and say that Logan is the best dancer in the world because I learned at an early age that lying to make someone feel better about themselves does nothing for anyone. Logan is the epitome of the man who dances on the one and the three. As if the two and the four are some foreign countries, his passport doesn't give him permission to enter. But I'll admit, dancing to Mr. Bright side isn't the easiest thing on the planet. I open my mouth to make some clippy and crank frankly excellent comment when he pauses me, pulling his phone out. Give me a second, it's Anne, he says. Hey, Maya says, tapping my shoulder, you scare him off already? I don't answer her at first. Instead, I focus on how much I can see of Logan through the window. He seems to be talking rapidly, gesturing with his other hand into his phone. He's pacing up and down the length of the window that spans about half of one side of the wall. I chew up my bottom lip before returning to Maya. I'll be right back. No problem. Nope, not at all. I'll be right there. I'm heading out now. Shit, he says. Shit, shit, shit. Okay, I interject. Let's calm down, yeah? I ask, putting my hand on his shoulder. Do me a favor, can you tell Marcus? I'll come back to fix this tomorrow. I have to go. Anne? She punched someone at the sleepover. The mother's furious and is demanding I come pick her up. If Anne punched someone, she had to have a good reason I finished for him. I'll drive. Logan's features shift from frustration to relaxed surprise. His blue eyes widen. You don't have to do that. I can get a taxi or something. You and I both know taxis take hours around here. The truck rumbles to life and jolts for a moment, and hard enough for Logan's face to slam forward. And with no seatbelt on, his face, like his full-on face, slams right into the dashboard with a sickening, loud snuff, and a loud string of curse words that follow. To be expected, and droplets of blood dripping down his face from his now broken notes. This is not at all how I thought my night would go. Anne comes out storming. Backpack half unzipped, all content threatening to spill all over the lawn with one wrong movement. Logan is out of the car before she can reach him. What happened? I don't want to talk about it, she says, brushing past him and slipping into the backseat of the car. Anne. Anne. You want to tell me why you punched Kat? She said he's gone to hell because he's bisexual. Neither you nor your daughter are ever welcome back here. Good, Logan Boones, loud enough for us to hear through. The car. Patricia isn't letting up though. Walking up to the side of the car, banging her fist against the passenger side, where Anne can be seen through the tinted windows. If you don't watch her attitude, little girl, you hate, Logan yells. He keeps his distance from her, but that doesn't make him any less of a threat. Don't you ever talk to my daughter without my permission. You understand me? You have a problem with her? That's cool. But you don't talk to her without talking to me first. She's my daughter, Patricia. Maybe you should have her yours. Maybe, Patricia sees. You should set a better example for your daughter. Excuse me? You heard me. A daughter like her needs a positive influence. Enough, I say, rolling down the window of the car. We're not doing this. Logan, we need to get Anne hung. So now he speaks for you two, huh? Patricia asks. I didn't know you two were that close. And you call me Miss Court, young man. I'm not calling you shit. I happen to think Anne is a pretty good judge of character. And if she had a reason to punch your daughter, then I'm gonna bet she was in a right, especially based on what I've seen from you as a mother. Logan, I repeat, get in. Logan glances at me, a smirk on his lips. Strawberry soda or orange soda? He holds each one up by the neck. Strawberry. Good choice. That one's better. He pops the top on the corner of the counter, passing the drink to me. But he doesn't move, still standing in the cramped space between the fridge and the island. And it was me sitting on the stool, there's even less space. So little space I naturally part my legs, and he naturally stands between them. Can I ask you another question? I whisper. You can ask me anything you want. What is my question? My heart is pumping at a rate that makes my head feel dizzy. Say anything instead of being silent. I'll go first him. Three questions. One, he says, laying his lips close to my ear, whispering, can I take you on a date sometime? Two, can I kiss you? And three, he says, lips skimming against my neck, barely touching as his hot breath burns a brand on my skin. Can I fuck your brains out afterwards? Okay, so we're all adults here. I mean, at least I hope there's no children listening. Um, get off. Get off right now. So we're all adults here. Let's just take a moment to process what just happened. What we just heard. Logan is down bad. Xavier and Logan clearly like each other. And Logan is practically squirming at this point. We're at what feels like a climax. And I don't just mean emotionally. Logan is trying to escalate. And that third comment, I mean, sir, we went from can I take you out to can I be in your guts in record timing? I honestly don't know how that would land for me. Like, I'm like, I feel like I would just flush in short circuit. But here's what I really love. They're finally seeing each other without performance. Logan isn't just a confident golden boy. Xavier isn't just a calculating overchiever. Xavier shows up for Logan. Not because he has to, but because he wants to. He drives him. He speaks up, he protects Ad, and Logan notices. That's the shift. The corner's been turning. Maybe, just maybe, a future could exist between two people who look like fire and water when this started. Matters of the heart do that too. Now we've got to get to a date. Chapters 21 through 25. Choosing him on purpose, letting yourself be seen, trusted with what matters, staying when it's hard, wanting without apology. My god, your closet is a mess. Leave it to your best friend and be honestly ruthless when trying to help you decide what to wear on your first date since your brutal breakup. I know better than a fight with Maya when that look is on her face. I sit down obediently, letting her fingers dance around my scalp, applying coconut oil here, twisting there, blow drying here. Logan. A text. I'm not sure what a city slicker like you is used to for dates, but I prefer them to be personal. My place? I'll make dinner. Maya study the throng for several seconds before walking out of the room. I mean I guess, she says. I only say I guess because a date at home with him cooking for you, doesn't that seem a little boring? I asked. Yeah, boring. She's not wrong, but there's nothing to say that I don't like boring. Maybe I need boring. How many times have I had and gone on dates that were extravagant expressions of class and wealth? Maybe it's time to try something else. To try something new, something different. Besides, I say walking into the bedroom with a talis along. I don't think Logan's the type to go all out for a date. And don't forget his daughter, she reminds me of my apologies. I can see her thinking what exact words she wants to use to express her feelings. All I'm gonna say is that you should think about what type of impression you're leaving. Impression? My nods. Logan hasn't dated anyone in town for as long as I've known him. But be it because he's focused on Anne, the warp, or whatever, everyone has their thoughts. You're the first. There's a responsibility here when you have someone's heart in your hands. I'm sorry, it's mess. I'm usually more organized than this. I'm not really sure Logan understands the word mess. The kitchen is immaculate, as it always has been. Different areas are set up with different parts of the meal that go from left to right, and a natural path that people understand goes from appetizers to dessert. Everything is set up as a kind of make your own taco bar. Except, make your own is replaced with different cuisines of your choice. I wasn't sure what type of food he liked, so he dressed widely. Appetizers are broccetta from Italy. Main course is gaspacio with small servings of pella valentiana. Second main course is kebabs from Mediterranean, and dessert looks like fixings from Sunday, with handwritten labels with different flavors in the freezer. Sundays from what? You have different foods from different parts of the world here. Where are Sundays from? Pancontinental? Are you telling me or asking me? I have a feeling you know the answer to your old question, which is why you asked me. Me? Give you a taste of your food knowledge? You would actually do that. Don't shit me. I grin and shrug. Pancontinental is fine. I don't think anyone can really own ice cream sun names. Okay, I say mid-crunch. This is fucking amazing. Right? It's the coriander, I say before he can finish. And also something else. Time? He grins, nodding slowly. Exactly. Can you guess the last ingredient? I take another slow, measured bite, letting the food turn into a paste of my mouth. I wanna say nutmeg? Just a dash of it. He smiles. That's weird. But tastes good, yeah? He's right, it does. If I'm being completely and totally honest, being with Logan feels good. Hey, he gently nudges. I'm well past the whole what's your favorite color part of dating. That's some 101 level shit. Dating is about getting to know someone and building trust. That's it. Point blank. The wave of emotion rolls over me. That feels like Whiplash. At one point, I feel like Logan can be kind and charming and a gentleman, but part of me is concerned about that. I don't trust people who have such sweet and gentle personalities. My boy's been traumatized. So do you trust me? More or less, I think, swallowing the remainder of my dream. Before I know what I'm doing, before I can think about the manifestations of my actions, I'm leaning over the island and pressing my lips hard against Logan's, cubbing both sides of his face as if kissing him is the last thing I'll ever do. Xavier, can you come into my office for a moment, please? It's been about three months since Logan and I had our first date and first kiss. And we're already spending almost every other night together. It feels weird. Almost foreign. To be dating again? Is that what we can call this? Dating? Hmm? Do you need help tying your tie? I asked, nodding to the twisted pile of fabric on the table. Can you? I nod. Logan sprays one spiritual clone on his body. I need you to cover for me. Can you do that? You mean completely in the restaurant? Exactly. Sump zump something I can do this. We need you out here. The voice is angelica, thick with stress. A critic is here. I'm sorry, what? A food critic? She says. Here? At Harper's Cold? Today? Right now? Actually? You sure? Table four. Voicemail. Shit. I try again. Voicemail again. Shit, shit, shit. Where are you? I sent a rapid text. What's going on? Kyle asks, poking his head from around the corner. Xavier's having a panic attack. I'm not having a panic attack. I can fucking do this. The Salamburgers. You have got to be kidding me. No, no, listen. They are fucking awesome. It's a risk. Running a restaurant is a risk, concess. Can you please stop refreshing your phone? Ever since the critics stopped by, Logan has been glued to his phone and computer, spending more time around them than Anne and me. We both noticed it, and today is no different. I just wish you would have gone with the pan crusted. Listen to me, I say, shifting on the couch. It's going to be okay. I promise. We blew it out of the park. He loved the burger. You trust me, don't you? I think Come here, Logan asks quietly. In a fairy tale, like graceful move, he pulls me around the side and into his lap, forcing me to straddle him in the process. His hands gripping my hips. That's better. He smirks as he leans up, nipping my bottom lip. Your daughter might see us. Do you want me to stop? Is that what you want, Xavier? Because if you want me to stop, he whispers, just let me know. But if you want me to keep going, then just say the word. I don't want you to stop. I breathe out. Your car, I bur out. Logan just stairs. You know I'm an adult, right? Logan unlocks his truck with a click, but not before pushing me back against the passenger side door. He doesn't let the handle dig into my back, wrapping his right hand around my lower back to protect me. He looks so fucking beautiful. You know that? I stare up at him, my mouth slightly open. A moment later, we both have that same thought. Silencing each other, we kiss each other desperately, our groans of pleasure getting swallowed into each other's mouths. My hips move in timeliness. Rocking up faster, harder, more desperate than his. Almost as if I can't get enough of his touch. Logan collapses on top of me, panting so hard, I think he's going to have a heart attack. Sounds like an old man. Part of me wants to make a joke. But in the moment, just being here, our body slick in the back of his car. It's perfect. Different position? Surprise me. Okay, so we finally climax. And I don't mean them. I mean Logan and Xavier are officially dating. We're no longer in the co-worker who flirt aggressively phase. We're in the I choose you phase. That's not just vibing. And they're not just vibing. They're committing to exploring each other. Opposites attract it. Yes. But more importantly, opposites are stabilizing each other. And I love that for them. They've been good for each other from the jump. And when they didn't, want to admit it. What I really appreciate is this. Xavier knows Logan has a daughter. He understands the gravity of that, but it doesn't feel heavy to him because he wants Logan. And because he wants Logan, by default, he wants his daughter. That's different. It's intention. And Xavier isn't some trophy boyfriend. He's not just here to look pretty and taste choriander. He's influencing the future of the war. He's stepping into Logan's world and contributing to it. Creatively, strategically, emotionally. Bless wet and sound and burgers. That's not casual, that's partnership energy. He's scared a little, and I'd be too, to be honest. But courage is in the absence of fear. It's choosing things anyway. My first thought, and my man, thank you to my man. My second thought is the future is bright. The world is their oyster, and they are disgustingly cute. Now zooming off for a second. This is what I want for a squeer, folks. Not just chemistry, not just situationships, but choosing, commitment, intention. And yes, commitment anxiety isn't exclusive to us, but I think that we've normalized frivolity and surfle-level lust so much that sometimes it robs us of depth. We deserve the fairy tale energy. We deserve church bells. We deserve to say this is my person without flinching. I'm exaggerating, but also I'm not. Because real love doesn't look like IG post, it looks more intimate. Real love is cleaning someone's bedroom. For Xavier, it's deciding to move toward love on purpose. Even if you're scared, even if it doesn't fit the five-year plan. Saying it too soon, when trust breaks. I know it's last minute, but I'll do it, I say without hesitation. You sure? I'm sure he's asking that because I sound like I just came out of a sleeping beauty level stupor, which would be correct. Or something cute, he teases. I can hear the sounds of the coffee maker in the background. Or your friend? A bee pauses. I didn't think that through. I mean he is hot. Xavier, he growls slowly. Logan's produce dealer smiles brightly when he sees me. His lab and smoke lines blend together to narrow his eyes, and he waves at me like a happy child. My cheeks burn as I wait back. I think weeks ago the smile I gave him would have been fake. But now it's honest, and I can actually admit I'm excited to see him. So are you gonna tell me why you're giving off some weird vibe? I glance over at Seth, who has that slight arch brow look that tells me he knows something is up. Logan had a food critic come by a week ago and Seth's face turns darker. Oh. Seth studies me. Really studies me. He didn't tell you? I shake my head. The warp hasn't been doing well recently. Seth says bluntly. Logan is an idealist at heart. He's a romantic who believes in the good of people and happy endings. He thinks the glorious view and his good heart, the work and investment he's put into the wharf will be enough to get another month, or six weeks, or fight from the bank. And that's all he needs. And a bad review will change all of that. Logan's a good guy, Xavier. Never said he isn't. No, you didn't. But I know that look in someone's eyes. It's the look of someone who's trying to fix things. Stacey Lee is Xavier. I know who you are, Silly. Do you know what time it is? Sorry. Were you sleeping? My boyfriend's restaurant is going to be there. He's manning a booth, that's all, about bringing old Harper's Cove recipes since the 1800s and modernizing them. For are you gonna stay here, Xavier? Stacey Lee interrupts. Stacy Lee leans forward. You didn't answer from me, but I heard Bradley is missing you. He's just not mad enough to reach out. I'm good. I'll bring a crew, she says, perfectly positioning her very on top of her peachy blonde hair. We'll get a few shots, and then it leaves in your lap. It'll be great. I'll do a whole profile on him. I'll make him look less rugged. People like his rugged look, I remind her. People are you? Is there a difference? Stacey Lee shrugs. Pretty much really like him, huh? Shit shit shit, I whisper trying to balance the trays of six coffees without spilling them. Sudden last minute rain last night left the park soaked. Here, let me help, Logan says. He doesn't give me a chance to protest, taking one of the trays in his rough hands. Our fingers touch for a moment and even still, slight electricity runs through my body. My night and shiny arm right keys. Carefully somehow, with the coffee in hand, he flexes his tongue right bicep. I don't think silver's my color, but for you, I'll make an exception. We have company. I mutter. Let them look, Logan whispers. Being with you like this is my happy place, and I'm not going to let anyone take that from me. Even finally, Kyle's deep voice booms. I mean, come on, how long were we gonna keep up with this whole will they won't they? You seriously thought you were hiding anything, Angelica asked. Did I talk to you privately? Shit. Did you just say fuck? Wait, hold on. Shit, fuck, shit. Did you just say you love me? Obviously I just said I love you. I hiss mentally. Even if that wasn't the intention, here we are stuck between a confessional and a love junk confession. Maybe it's for the best. Maybe Logan will tell me I'm moving too fast. Maybe he'll say he doesn't love me because he can't love anyone else because he's still getting over his wife. Maybe, maybe, maybe I love you too. Logan? Sugary sweet words flip through the air. Logan and I turned in the direction of the question, almost at the same time. Michelle? Hey, I mean, what are you doing here? Of course, of course Logan's ex-wife would show up exactly at this moment. Logan has a right to be angry at me. He has every right to volley any sort of profanity, accusation, or anything he wants directly at me, with little concern for my emotional well-being. If the situation were worse and my current boyfriend had been in contact with Bradley when I was dating them, I would be pissed too. You have to understand, before I tell you that I was just trying to help, I say, promise me you'll what did he do? What does that mean? Oh come on, Xavier, you're not stupid, and neither am I. This is all just a project for you. A rebound drop before you went off to live your life in Chicago or whatever. A pit stop. That's not you're not going to sit here and tell me that's not true. I am, because it's fucking not. Sure, keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better, he says. Turn on the heels. No, absolutely not. I'm not moving around, blocking his path. Logan, listen. I was just trying to help. That's all. You don't mean that. Yeah, I do, he says. You went behind my back to help you. What would have helped me was being honest, he boomed so loudly his body shakes. It's not anger that floods through him. It's a swell of hurt. Be misdirected at me or accurately zeroed in. That's all. I didn't ask you to be my fixer or my business consultant. I just asked you to be yourself, to be with me, and to be happy with me, to care about me for me. Time stops. The world stands still, and the only thing I can focus on is the sadness in his eyes. We're done Xavier. As boyfriends and as co-workers, she says without hesitation. You can gather your last check on Monday. Actually, I'll just mail it to you. I hope you do great things in Berlin. I'm sure you'll do great. And before I can say anything else, Logan walks right past me. Okay, so we're in a tough space. Emotions are high. Both of them are hurt. And the frustration part, they both have points. Logan feels betrayed. Not because Xavier wanted to help, but because he wasn't honest first. To Logan, love means transparency. It means talk to me before you move from me. Xavier feels hurt too. From his perspective, reaching out to Stacey Lee wasn't manipulation. It was devotion. It was, I see you struggling, and I refuse to let you drown alone. That was love in his language. So where's the middle ground? Humility. Not apologically. Apologizing for who you are, but apologizing for the impact your actions may have on the other person. I think there's a difference. Xavier was humble. He admitted his intentions. Logan reacted the way he reacted, and he has a right to his feelings. No one gives to dictate how someone processes hurt, and letting someone convince you your emotions aren't valid is a slow erosion of self-trust. Some of Logan's logic didn't make sense, but emotions aren't logic. They're emotions. And emotions can make the irrational feel completely justified in the moment. Relationships, especially queer ones, are going to have stressors. Money, career, ego, expectations, fear. But for queer folks, there's the added weight of external pressure too. The subtle and not so subtle threats to our legitimacy, our safety, our futures. That creates a constant low hum of instability. So the real question here becomes: are you willing to go through discomfort with someone? Because discomfort is coming either way. Love doesn't eliminate stress, it gives you someone to navigate stress with. Now that doesn't mean stay where you're not respected. It doesn't mean endure harm. It doesn't mean lower your standards. But if love is present, real love, and the person makes you better, not smaller, maybe the work is worth it. Logan and Xavier don't lack chemistry. They weren't lacking it at all. They were lacking alignment. Chemistry is magic. Alignment is work. And work, if you're willing, can be adjusted. For the queer community and for Xavier and Logan, don't be afraid of the work. Baby, anything worth having requires it. Chapters 31 and the end of the book. When everything falls apart, choosing who you are, love without guardrails, and staying on purpose. I get by with little help from my friends, and Maya comes through clutch as she always does. I don't go home for four days, lying in bed, ignoring all my phone calls, Maya bringing breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Logan isn't Bradley. I might have known him for a short amount of time, but I could, despite everything, see a life with Logan. I could see a life here. In Harper's Cove. There's a knock on my door, a heavy one. He wants to talk to you. I frown, giving her my full attention. What? Maya, I don't just she takes a deep breath. Can you please talk to him for me there? Anne's not with you, is she? Yeah, before I can even say anything. What? No. I haven't seen her since the fair. A fraction of a second passes before the fear sets him. Logan? I can't find her. I can't find my daughter, Xavier. You don't have to help. I just wanted to know if I'm not letting you look your daughter alone. I'm gonna look around. I hang up before Logan can say anything else. I'll take the east and I'll take the west. I think I might know where Anne is, I sent to Logan. The river that leads to Harper's Sound is a hidden gem of Harper's Cove and Maine as a whole. Xavier? Anne's voice breaks through my moment. Hey you, I smile, walking over her. I keep my voice light and easy. You know, a lot of people are looking for you. I say once I stand next to her. I haven't seen you and my dad together for a few days. You know what will make your dad happiest? Knowing you're safe. I smile, nudging her gently. How about we get you back to him? And then we can talk about Anne? Logan's voice sealed with desperation breaks through the silence. Logan and Michelle make a beeline for Anne, me moving out of the way just in time for Anne to stand and her family to collide and embrace. I walk over to Maya, who's standing the furthest away from the group. She smiles softly at me. You okay? Yeah. There's no hesitation in my voice. Let's go home. I have a ship the pack for. Frawny, I take the Portland Gazette from her. Unfurling it. Check the circled article, she says. Page five. Reopening the paper to page five, I take a deep breath, review the wharf hidden by Alistair Westbrook. Harper's Cove is a location you could easily miss. A short drive from Portland, Maine, the small, quaint town is like a gentle embrace from a grandmother or a friend who you haven't seen in ages. Tangential to Harper's Sound, which leads right into the Atlantic Ocean, the town is known for its fishing community. Naturally, I was skeptical of the seafood restaurant in a town that isn't for tourists and where everyone can make their own seafood, probably better than most restaurants across the country. Harper's Cove isn't a tourist town. No one is stopping here for their vacation. It's a town for residents and those who want a quiet life, which also makes me wonder why Logan O'Hare would even try to open a restaurant here instead of, let's say, Portland. But to my surprise, what is the wharf's weakness is also the wharf's strength. The restaurant personifies everything that is Harper's Cove. It's friendly, it's comforting. No one feels out of place here. The meals, fish and chips, salads, steamed seafood, and chowders may seem simple to the outside viewer, but if you look closely, Chef O'Here has done something so few restaurants can accomplish. Created simple, welcoming, and delicious food without alienating the core base of restaurant goers. People whose memories of food are centered on family, the home, and most importantly, love. If you want a pretentious restaurant that will open up your palate to different types of food, then the morph isn't the place for you. But if you want something where you feel like you have been a hundred times, somewhere you can release the stress from your shoulders and forget about the world for a while, the morph is the place for you. And make sure you get the Soundburger. Trust me, you won't regret it. Well well worth the drive. Rating five out of five. Has Logan seen this? I imagine so, Maya says. He's called my phone three times asking about you. And you told him nothing. We should get going anyway, right? Xavier? As I turn to walk out, my face slams right into something firm and hard. I hiss, a string of curses coming out of my mouth. My bag dropping from my shoulders. Shit, sorry, Logan says, picking up the back from the floor. So Berlin, huh? He finally says, leaving one small town for another. I wouldn't necessarily call Berlin a small town. Why? Excuse me? Why Berlin? I look at him puzzled. Logan sighs, taking off his beanie and rubbing his fingers through his hair. Look, I know I only have five minutes, and maybe I'm being dumb, but I want to be honest with you. I was wrong. I wasn't just wrong. I was absolutely fucking horrible to you. Logan, you don't need to apologize, I say honestly. I overstepped. I fucked up. Sure. But I shouldn't have reacted the way I did. What you did might have been an overstep, but the way I yelled at you, it was wrong. It was horrible. It's the past, I say. I appreciate you apologizing. I'm sorry for the overstepping, but I signed up for therapy, he interrupts. Did you see the review by the way? He asked. He loved the burger. He loved the wharf. Maya showed me. That was because of you. You did that. You helped me. You know I can't do that. Can't or won't? I shouldn't we shouldn't. Why? he asked, taking a step forward. I don't attempt to move or stop him from grabbing my hands, holding them between his large ones. Why can't we try again? If you really don't think we should, if you really don't think that we can make it work, then at least let me give you this. Doom may concern. Xavier Reynolds worked in my restaurant, the wharf, for six weeks. As a prep chef, he was responsible for assisting the head chef in preparing food by chopping and washing vegetables and meats and arranging salads, bread, sauces, and dressings. So Xavier had no experience working in the restaurant. He learned quickly and became an integral part of my staff. Xavier's business skills transfer easily to the kitchen. And I'm confident whatever job he takes, he'll be an asset to your company. Just like he was with me. But by far his strongest skill is Xavier's ability to touch and change people in ways they can't imagine, even himself. Xavier is a headstrong, confident, talented individual who changes the lives of everyone he meets. You can't put a price on that scale. But if I could, I would pay or do whatever I could to get him to stay with me. Although, since you're reading this reference, it's clear Xavier has made his choice. It is with my full heart, mind and soul, I recommend Xavier Reynolds for this job. Without an ounce of hesitation. My only regret is that I couldn't get him to stay with me. Yours truly, Logan O'Hare, owner of the wharf. I stare at the words on the page until the ink begins to blur. Hey, Logan says gently. I'm scared, I say honestly, looking up at him. I'm scared I'm going to hurt us more, hurt you, and hurt Anne. I'm just I don't know how to do this. Logan stares back. He squeezes both my shoulders. Neither do I. I'm scared too. That doesn't mean we don't try. I've heard it's easier to handle difficult tasks when you have someone by your side. Just a leap of faith, he wait he repeats. Put your faith in me. I promise, Isaiah, I won't let you down. Berlin will always be there. I say, smiling at Logan. I might as well stay a little longer. He smiles like relief just found a boy. Without hesitation, he grabs both sides of my face and kisses me deeply. You just made me the happiest person on the eastern seaboard. Xavier, Logan whispers. Anne, Xavier, you here? Nearly a year later, and spending most of my evenings at Logan's house is the commonplace occurrence. I have my own apartment now, two blocks away from the wharf, but Logan's place is bigger and feels more like home. Plus, I get to spend more time with Anne, which we all enjoy. Hey you, he smiles, kissing my lips quickly. Hey yourself. How's the wharf? After I decided to stay, I decided to work at the wharf for a few months while getting myself on my feet. Like every other 20-something, I've embraced the idea of freelance work. And there are more than enough businesses in Harper's Cove that need some business advice. So that was a sound of me being happy. Happy endings can feel rare in life. And for queer folks, they can feel even more rare. So seeing Logan and Xavier get one, I'll take it. Now, before anyone jumps in with, but Kashavi, this isn't real life, it's fiction. Bitch, I know, but the point still stands. Stories matter because they show us possibilities. They show us what it looks like when people grow, when people choose each other, and when fear doesn't get the final word. Logan and Xavier get their happy ending. Now, did you hear me say the word perfect? No. Because perfect doesn't exist. And chasing perfect is usually the fastest way to ruin something good. They're still going to have stressors. Life doesn't suddenly become easy because two people kissed and the music swelled in the background. But like Logan said himself, I've heard it's easier to handle difficult tasks when you have someone by your side. And like I said earlier, love doesn't eliminate stress, it gives you someone to navigate stress with. Not because Berlin disappears, not because ambition stops calling his name, but because he's choosing what feels like home. That's growth. And Logan, Logan grows too. Logan learns that love isn't control, it isn't protecting everything alone. It isn't pushing people away the moment fear shows up. Logan learns to apologize. He signs up for therapy. He admits he was wrong. And that matters because the strongest relationships aren't the ones where no one messes up. They're the ones where people are willing to look at themselves and say, Yeah, that part of me needs work. And then actually do the work. That moment where Logan hands Xavier the letter, that was romance. A letter recommending the man you love for a job that might take him away from you. That's love without guardrails. That's love that says, I want what's best for you, even if that future doesn't include me. And ironically, that kind of love is what makes Xavier stay. Because love isn't built on pressure, it's built on freedom. And when Xavier finally says he'll stay, Logan doesn't celebrate like someone who won. He looks like someone who just got his life back. And that's why the epilogue works so well. Not because everything becomes magical, but because everything becomes intentional. A year later, they're still there, still building the restaurant, still building life, still figuring it out together. Which honestly is the closest thing to a happy ending that real life ever gives us. And the reason this story has had such an impact on me isn't just because of Lobit and Xavier. But it's what they represent. For a long time, queer stories ended in tragedy or secrecy or silence. So when I see two queer people choose each other imperfectly, messily, honestly, and in the open, it feels bigger than just a real maps novel. It feels like possibility. Because Logan and Xavier aren't perfect men, they're stubborn, they're dramatic, they're messy and they mess things up. They hurt each other, but they also apologize. They grow, they try again. And that to me is the most romantic thing in this entire book. Effort. Two people looking at each other and saying, I don't have all this figured out, but I'm willing to figure it out with you. That kind of love isn't fantasy. It's work, it's patience, it's humility, it's choosing the same person again after things get hard. And I think that's why this story gives me hope. Not because Logan and Xavier are soulmates written into the stars, but because they're just two people who decided the love between them was worth tending. And if that kind of love can exist for them, then I believe it can exist for us too. So to all my queer folks listening, your love doesn't have to look perfect, your partner doesn't have to be flawless, and your life doesn't have to be easy, it just has to be real, it just has to be full of love. And if this book reminds us of anything, it's that hope, even fictional hope, is still powerful because sometimes hope is the thing that keeps us open long enough to find a person who's willing to build something real with us. And honestly, I think that kind of love is out there for Logan, for Xavier, and for us. Thanks for tuning in, guys. This has been the Queer Show Book Club, a subseries of What Helps You, a mental health podcast. The Queershow Book Club is created and hosted by me, your hostess who mostis, Kashabia Benezro. Every two months, we read a new queer book together and talk about the stories that shape us: the messy ones, the healthy ones, the ones that remind us what love, growth, and community look like. The goal of the space is simple. Celebrate queer stories and explore the emotional truths inside them. A new book pick is announced every two months. So if you want to read along with us, keep an eye out for the next selection. In between books, you can find me on Instagram at Shavi Forever21. There, I post content around queer inspiration, liberation, love, and the kind of conversations that keep this community growing. Production for the Queer Show Book Club is done in partnership with Nathan Medina, also known on Instagram as Official Infamous Beats. Nathan is not only the producer of this series, he's also a music artist with new releases currently streaming. And I genuinely love his work, so make sure you check him out. Thank you all for being here and for sitting through this story with me, for holding space for complexity, for truth, and for the beauty of course storytelling. Until next time, take care of yourselves and take care of each other. Thanks for joining the furry, and I love you. Bye for now.