“Wyatt, he as good as told those guys to break in here,” Dad said, his brow furrowing.
“No,” Wyatt said. “He wouldn’t have. He liked it here, and he likedme, and…”And, a voice in his head reminded him,he told you to keep your window open, didn’t he?Wyatt shoved that voice down. Smothered it. “Please talk to him. Please. Please listen too.”
“Kiddo,” Dad said, “at this point I’m more interested in listening toyou.”
Wyatt blinked, and tears slid down his cheeks.
“I’m not going to ask you if Izzy lied,” Dad said. “Because I think, if he did, you would have told me that already. Is that right?”
Wyatt jerked his head in a nod.
“You won’t remember this,” Dad said. “Back when I first met Justin and you kids, I turned up at your house with lemon bars and lasagna, wondering what the hell I was getting myself into. And when I got there I knocked on the door, not even knowing if someone would answer, and you suddenly appeared at the window, and you waved at me, and I knew in that moment that I wanted to look after you, all of you, for as long as you’d let me. And that’s never changed, and it’s never going to change. So talk to me, Wy, please.”
Wyatt drew in a shaking breath. “I don’t want to go to Paris. I don’t want to work for Alain Donadieu. I don’t want to be a pâtissier.” He scrubbed his knuckles over his wet cheeks. “I want to be a baker.”
“Okay,” Dad said. He reached out and drew one of Wyatt’s hands gently away from his face. Held it in his own. “Okay, Wyatt.”
“That’s it?” Wyatt asked, his voice faltering.
“That’s it,” Dad said. “You are an incredibly talented pâtissier, Wyatt, but if you want to be a baker, then that’s it. And I’m sorry if I ever pressured you into thinking you couldn’t be what you wanted to be.”
“You…” Wyatt shook his head. “No, that was all me. I was just so scared you’d be disappointed in me, Dad.”
“Never,” Dad said. He sounded choked up. “Never, okay?” He squeezed Wyatt’s hand. “And the other thing?”
Wyatt’s stomach clenched. “Sometimes I’m not a boy. S-sometimes I’m a girl too, and sometimes I’m in the middle.”
“Okay,” Dad said. “You’re genderfluid, is that it?”
“I think so.”
“Okay,” Dad said, and his mouth quirked up at Wyatt’s expression. “I’m saying that too much, aren’t I? I don’t know too much about what being genderfluid means to you, Wyatt, so we’re going to need you to tell us what we can do to make you feel comfortable, you understand? Whether that’s changing pronouns, or your name, or your wardrobe, or whatever it is you need, you tell us, and we’ll do it for you. We might screw it up a few times, but we’ll figure it out.”
Wyatt closed his eyes briefly. Wasn’t that what he and Izzy were doing? Figuring it out together? “I don’t know about any of that stuff.”
“Then we’ll find you someone to talk to who does,” Dad said.
“Another therapist?” Wyatt grimaced.
“Whatever you need,” Dad said.
“I don’t know what that is,” Wyatt said, but he thought of Izzy.
“That’s okay too,” Dad told him gently. “This isn’t a pop quiz, kiddo. You can take all the time you need.”
“Izzy didn’t tell those guys to rob us, Dad,” Wyatt said. “He wouldn’t have.”
Dad sighed.
“He wouldn’t have,” Wyatt repeated. “Tell Justin to listen to him, please? To really listen, because Izzy doesn’t always say the right things the first time.”
“I’ll tell him,” Dad said, but Wyatt knew they both figured Justin wouldn’t listen.
“And tell him…” Wyatt swallowed. “Tell him that he goes to the cops, then I’ll go. I’ll leave.”
Dad jerked back. “Wyatt!”
“I mean it,” Wyatt said, his voice shaking. “Please.”
