Wyatt looked away from Justin and found himself looking at Dad, and Dad looked so hurt and soworriedthat Wyatt couldn’t catch his breath.
“You stay the fuck away from my brother!” Justin yelled.
“Justin,” Dad said, but Justin wasn’t hearing him.
“Your brother?” Izzy sneered. “You gonna pretend you give a fuck about your brother now? You don’t evenknowhim!”
No, Wyatt wanted to say.Please, Izzy, no. But the words wouldn’t come.
“You don’t know that he doesn’t want to go to Paris!” Izzy yelled at Justin. “You don’t know he doesn’t want to be a pastry chef! You don’t know how much Ativan he’s taking, and you don’t even know that he’s not always a boy!”
Izzy wrenched away from Justin and Justin, his face a mask of shock, let it happen.
No, Wyatt thought.No.
Dad reached out for him. “Wy?”
Wyatt shook his head and pressed back against the door, and watched as every single lie he’d ever told, every single thing he’d ever said to convince himself and the people who loved him that he was okay—that he wasnormal, not some anxious, useless freak—lay unraveled in a heap at Izzy’s feet.
It hurt.
Maybe Izzy hadn’t meant it to, or at least he hadn’t meant it to hurt Wyatt, but it hurt.
It hurt, and Wyatt felt his eyes sting with tears as he struggled to breathe.
And then his knees gave out and he hit the floor.
* * * *
“Kiddo,” Dad said, and Wyatt blinked awake. He was…how was he in the living room? He didn’t remember walking back here. Maybe…maybe nothing had happened at all. Maybe he’d just had a panic attack about the break in, and none of the other stuff had happened. “You back with me, Wy?”
Wyatt nodded dumbly.
Dad held a glass of water for him, and he took a sip. It was cold, and it hurt his throat as he swallowed.
“Do you want an Ativan?” Dad asked.
Wyatt shook his head.
“You’ve been taking them again, huh?” Dad asked softly. There was no judgement in his tone, only concern.
“Yeah.” Wyatt’s voice rasped. “For a few weeks.”
“Okay,” Dad said. “Wyatt, what Izzy said—”
Wyatt flinched back.
Dad exhaled. “How long have you been seeing him?”
“For a few weeks.”
Dad smiled grimly at that, and Wyatt wanted to tell him that Izzy had nothing to do with the Ativan, but it wasn’t totally true, because just being in a relationship had been scary, but that wasn’t Izzy’s fault. That was Wyatt’s fault. Wyatt could have been dating some kind of perfect Stepford boy-next-door and he still would have been a mess.
“Where is he?” Wyatt asked.
“Packing his stuff, I think,” Dad said softly.
Wyatt couldn’t help the whimper of despair that came out of him.
