When Travis is told that he needs to start a hobby, he never expects to take up knitting. But a bright display in a yarn store has him stopping to check it out. There he meets Gavin, divorced father of a teenager, who owns sheep and makes his own yarn from their wool. Their attraction is instant, but that only lasts until Gavin finds out that Travis cheated on his last boyfriend. Gavin doesn't want to be hurt, and he doesn't know if he can trust Travis not to break his heart the same way he broke Cal's.
But sometimes people deserve a second chance, and Travis has learned his lesson. If they're willing to take a chance on each other, they might just find love again.
My therapist wanted me to have a hobby. It was more like a demand, actually. I'd been living on my own for eight months, and the four before that I'd been living with my ex. For five years we'd been happy, then I'd had to go screw it all up.
Since moving out I'd started therapy. I was still going twice a week. I was also still feeling stuck and miserable–every night I fought the urge to call Cal up and beg him to take me back.
He had moved on. We were still Facebook friends, so I got to see all the pictures that he posted of himself and Dillon together. His rebound guy was half my age and not even old enough to drink. I knew that Cal hadn't left me for Dillon, but it was hard not to hate the man who had replaced me in his bed.
I didn't even know him or anything about him, but I hated him so much. It was that obsessive thinking, and the anger, and the guilt that still had me in therapy almost a year after I had confessed to cheating on Cal and he had broken up with me.
There was no coming back from the cheating I had done. I'd been with the guy for months. What was supposed to be a one-time thing simply hadn't been and I regretted what I’d done every day. But my regrets wouldn't have made me feel any better about Cal and how he was a stripper. I didn’t know how Dillon could date Cal while he was still a stripper either, but maybe he somehow found a way to keep it from bothering him the way it had eaten at me for five long years, where every night I had wondered what Cal was doing and who he was doing it with and hating every second of not knowing those answers.
I was desperate to think about something besides them. I needed to. I couldn't go through another day, let alone another six months, obsessing over my ex and his new boyfriend.
I hadn't expected them to last. Not really. I figured Dillon would be Cal's fling, his rebound to get over what I'd done to him, then Cal would get bored of having an obnoxious little teenager to deal with all the time, and he'd eventually forgive me and we could pick up where we'd left off.
That had been my plan, anyway. Clearly it hadn't worked, but I had expected a phone call from Cal every day for the first few months. I expected that he would even quit his job for me and go find something where I didn't have to worry about who he was with all the time.
But he hadn't. He was still a stripper and he was still with Dillon and I was all alone in a search for a new hobby to keep my mind off of them both.
I wasn't being very successful with it. I was trying, but I was definitely failing. I didn't have hobbies. My hobby had been making sure the house looked nice and being a good boyfriend to Cal. Now I lived in a one-bedroom apartment in Springfield that took only about ten minutes to really clean since I never made it a mess and I had no boyfriend to take care of. I had no one. Just me. And that was the most depressing thing of all.
My search for a new hobby led me to painting, which I sucked at and hated the mess of, and then to photography. I wasn't any good at that either, and I definitely didn't have an eye for it, whatever that meant. My photos were boring. Maybe because my life was boring. I needed something where I could make something. I needed a hobby where I could be doing something, and I needed to be able to do it anywhere.
I was driving, really with no destination in mind, just a need to be out of my tiny apartment and away from my miserable life, when I found myself practically on the Arkansas border. There was a shopping center there, so out of the way and hidden by tall evergreen trees that I was surprised the stores there could stay in business.
The shopping center had a yarn store and cafe. The yarn store’s two big glass windows were filled with balls of brightly colored yarn, blocking me from seeing anything inside. The yarn was arranged in a rainbow, all different shades and thicknesses. I knew nothing about yarn or knitting, or anything else that probably happened in that store, but I was drawn to it because of the rainbows. Ever since I had come out years ago, I'd always been attracted to rainbows.
I parked in front of the store and went in, not expecting much of anything. Not the brightness of the plain wooden shelves stuffed full with bright yarn, not the smell of sweet chai tea coming from the pot at the back of the store where a blue couch stood invitingly, and not the smile of the man behind the counter who had a pair of long wooden sticks in his hands that he was winding yarn around. It took me a moment to realize he was knitting something as he stood there at the register.
"Hi, I'm Gavin, welcome to my store. Can I help you find anything special, or are you just looking around?"