Chapter 19
“Tell me everything,” Harper said when she swept into the house like a tornado.
“There’s not much to tell,” Wyatt said, but she eked it out of him anyway over the course of the afternoon, holed up in his bedroom with a container of chocolate mint ice-cream and a pack of Oreos. Harper liked to crumble them up and mix them through her melted ice-cream and then drink the whole thing from her bowl, which was gross as hell. Wyatt ate his ice-cream and Oreos separately, like nature and God intended.
He told her about Paris, and about figuring out he was genderfluid—and maybe not figuring it out as much as actually admitting to himself what he’d known for a while—and about Izzy.
“Did you sleep with him?” Harper asked.
Wyatt flushed. “That’s private!”
“That’s a yes, then,” Harper said wryly. She reached out and grabbed his hand. “Wy, I’m not asking to be a nosy Nellie. I just figured it was a big thing for you, right? Getting naked in front of someone if you’ve been dealing with dysphoria.”
Wyatt chewed his bottom lip. “It was a huge thing. And…and we haven’t done everything, you know, but the stuff we have done, it doesn’t matter to him if I’m a boy or a girl or somewhere in between.” He thought of how Izzy had called him a pretty girl, but also how he’d blown him. Wyatt’s dick was less of an issue for Izzy that it was for Wyatt, it seemed. “He just accepts it. He hadn’t been with a guy before me, but he just sort of rolled with it. And, like, we haven’t talked about it much, but I think that maybe he’s demi?”
“Oh.” Harper raised her eyebrows. “So much for my femme fatale act then.”
“For your what?”
Harper grinned and sucked melted ice-cream off her spoon. “Don’t worry about it.”
Don’t worry about it? Did she evenknowhim?
She caught his look and her grin softened and faded. “I’m sorry you felt you couldn’t tell me about all this stuff.”
Wyatt shrugged. “You’re so busy, and—”
“I’m never too busy for you,” Harper said fiercely. “We’re a team, remember? We always have been, and we always will be.”
Wyatt nodded, his chest aching in gratitude because his big sister was here for him, and, like always, she was on his side. “Yeah, always.”
* * * *
Wyatt couldn’t remember a family dinner more awkward than this one. Dad had cooked, so the food was fantastic. He also told Harper all about his new show, and asked about her internship, and he and Harper were so effusive that their conversation filled up every corner of the dining room—except the part that was taken up by the massive elephant, Wyatt guessed. Because while Dad and Harper were talking, Wyatt wasn’t. Justin wasn’t. And Lettie, who was usually the last person in the room to notice any weird tension, was staring around at everyone with a furrowed brow.
“What’s going on?” she asked, stabbing at a piece of penne with her fork. “Is Justin still mad at Wyatt?”
Wyatt glanced at his brother in time to see him flinch.
“I’m not mad at Wyatt,” Justin said.
Harper raised her eyebrows. “Maybe try unclenching your teeth a little before you say that,” she suggested. “And then your sphincter.”
Lettie guffawed.
“Can we not do this?” Dad interjected. “Harper, it’s your first night back. It’d be nice if we could enjoy it.”
“Who’s enjoying it, Dad?” Harper asked. She didn’t have an indirect bone in her body. “Me and you? Lettie? Because Justin’s not, and neither is Wyatt. Why should we ignore it and let it fester another night when we can talk about it now?”
Dad’s brow creased and he sighed. He pushed his plate away, and gave Harper a ‘go ahead’ gesture. “What?” he asked, catching Justin’s look. “She’s got a point, babe.”
“I met Izzy,” Harper announced, and Wyatt jolted. “You know what he said about Wyatt? He said Wyatt loves him, but he belongs with his family, and that he’d never do anything to get in the way of that.”
Wyatt heard the sound of a door slamming in his mind, and his eyes stung.
Harper leaned forward in her seat. “Justin, you know what it’s like to have people judge you because of what you look like, or what sort of background you have. You know what it’s like to have people look at you and make assumptions.”
“I gave Izzy a chance,” Justin said. “He got the same chance that everyone else I employ gets, and even if the police say that the break in wasn’t his fault, he still brought drugs onto my property.”
