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  “They’re all fine. The dogs acted as security like she’s trained them to do.” Del’s tone was calm still, and he was trying to read Izzy, that much was obvious.

  Justin glared at Izzy. “Yes, because your friends didn’t know about the dogs, yet somehow they knew we don’t have a security system.”

  “I don’t fucking know who you’re—” and then the penny dropped. “Fuck. Vinny and Morales?” he asked, rubbing his face with his hands. His body jerked into motion, pacing the short distance from his bedroom door to the kitchenette and back.

  Justin snorted without humor. “Ding, ding, ding, got it right in one,” he mocked Izzy. “Unless you have more friends who break into people’s homes.”

  “They’re not my fucking friends!” Izzy roared. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”

  “You put my family in danger! You fucking led some thugs into our home, Izzy!”

  “I didn’t—”

  “No! You stink of weed like you’ve smoked all fucking night. I’m done! I stuck my neck out for you, and you spat in my face!” Justin’s face twisted like he had a million more things to yell, but then he sagged as though all his anger had flooded out of him and he just looked tired. “You’re fired. Get your stuff together. I want you out of here by morning.”

  Izzy’s blood ran cold, and he stared at Wyatt, waiting for him to say something, to say anything, to tell Justin that Izzy wouldn’t have done this. But Wyatt just looked back at him through eyes brimming with tears, and Izzy felt his hopes shatter.

  Chapter 15

  Life was weird, Wyatt thought as he stared down at his passport application form. Life was really weird, and sometimes it just took something as tiny as a bee sting to change everything. Because when Izzy had stumbled and fallen, when Wyatt had suddenly known beyond every doubt that he couldn’t lose him, he’d discovered reserves of courage he didn’t know he had. Courage to let Izzy see him for who he was. Courage to reach out to him. Courage to consider telling Dad and Justin they were in a relationship. And now…

  Well.

  Wyatt picked up the form, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it into his wastepaper basket.

  Courage to admit to Dad that he didn’t want to go to Paris. He wanted to stay here in Oak Glen. Maybe look into starting his own bakery. He could sell cookies and cupcakes and bread through the stall at first, while he made plans for getting his own premises in a year or two.

  His heart beat a little faster at the thought of telling Dad, but that was okay. Because he was scared that Dad might be disappointed in him, but that didn’t lessen his courage. Courage wasn’t the absence of fear, was it? Courage was being able to act despite that fear. And Dad…Dad loved Wyatt. Wyatt had always known it, and never doubted it. So even if he was disappointed by Wyatt’s change of heart, or baffled that he’d never told him about it before now, it wouldn’t make him stop loving him. Not even for a second.

  Wyatt drew a deep breath and checked the time on his laptop. It was past ten. He got up from his desk and crossed to his door. He peered down the dark hallway. The door to the main bedroom was open, light spilling out, and he could hear the low murmur of voices.

  He headed toward them.

  He passed Lettie’s door. It was ajar, but her light was off.

  When he reached the main bedroom he lingered in the doorway for a moment. The lights were on, and the comforter on Justin and Dad’s bed was turned down. Wyatt heard water running in the en suite bathroom—a blast of it against the sink—and then Dad said something in a low voice, and Justin laughed.

  Dad came out of the bathroom first, pulling on a T-shirt over his sleep pants. “Wyatt,” he said. “Everything okay?”

  Wyatt glanced at the bathroom door in time to see Justin appearing.

  “Yeah,” he said, swallowing down his fear. “Can I talk to you about something?”

  And that was when he heard, very faintly from somewhere downstairs, the sound of breaking glass.

  * * * *

  Everything happened both quickly and painstakingly slowly after that.

  “There’s someone in the house,” Dad said, grabbing for his phone. And then he grabbed for Justin too, as Justin tried to move past him. “Don’t!”

  “Lettie,” Justin said. “I have to—”

  “Don’t,” Dad said. “You wait in here with Wyatt. You lock the door. I’ll go to Lettie.”

  And then he slipped out into the hallway.

  Wyatt closed the door behind him, and locked it. A moment later Justin’s phone lit up with a message from Lettie.

  Dad’s with me. He says stay there.

  “What if they come up here?” Wyatt whispered.

  “I’m calling the police,” Justin said, his voice low.

  From downstairs, Wyatt heard something break and then—

  And then barking and growling as Lettie’s pack of dogs burst into the house.

  Holy shit.

  Whoever was downstairs, they’d just opened the connecting door to the garage where the dogs slept, and the dogs did not like them one bit.

  * * * *

  By the time the police arrived, the two guys were bailed up in the laundry room, staring down two rescue pits, a German shepherd, two lab mixes and a Chihuahua and, Dad said, probably questioning all their life choices. Wyatt didn’t see it, but Dad said that the Chihuahua was probably the most terrifying. When the cops turned up, Lettie had to call the dogs off so that they could get close enough to arrest the guys.

  Wyatt stayed out of the way and made tea before joining everyone else in the living room, too jittery to do much else while police officers checked over the house, and red and blue lights flashed through the windows.

  “We’ve lived here over fifteen years and never had a problem,” Justin was telling one officer. “It’s coyotes you worry about out here, not burglars.”

  “Gotta say,” the officer said, flashing a grin at Lettie as she sat on the couch with her dogs surrounding her, “your dogs are incredible.”

  Lettie lifted her chin. “All dogs are incredible.”

  “Yeah, you got me there,” the officer said and looked back to Justin. “Anyway, it looks like you were targeted.”

  Wyatt saw the way that Justin flinched at that. “What?”

  “You ever see those guys before?” the officer asked.

  “No, we don’t know them.”

  Dad walked into the room, his phone still in his hand.

  “Seems like they know you,” the officer said. “Vincent Chase and Matias Morales.”

  Justin shook his head, his brow creasing.

  “How about an Izzy?” the officer asked, and Wyatt jolted. “Apparently their friend Izzy told them there was no security here.”

  Dad and Justin exchanged a look.

  No, Wyatt wanted to tell them. He wouldn’t. But the words wouldn’t come.

  “I don’t know,” Justin said slowly. “Sorry, it’s been a hell of a night.”

  “Yeah, I understand,” the officer said. “Okay, we’ll take these guys out of here, and you give your insurance company a call and get your windows fixed. I’ll leave you my card in case you think of anything, but otherwise I’ll be in touch in a couple of days anyway.”

  “Thanks,” Justin said, taking the officer’s card.

  Dad shook the officer’s hand.

  * * * *

  “Ding, ding, ding, got it right in one,” Justin spat at Izzy. “Unless you have more friends who break into people’s homes.”

  “They’re not my fucking friends!” Izzy sounded angry, but he looked like a wreck. His eyes were bloodshot, and he stank of weed, and Wyatt felt sick just looking at him. He didn’t even look like Izzy. Not like the Izzy who moved with a confident swagger, or the Izzy who stared right into Wyatt’s soul when he looked at him. He looked confused, and dozy, and pathetic. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”

  “You put my family in danger!” Justin looked like he was going to punch Izzy, and Wyatt’s stomach clenched. �
��You fucking led some thugs into our home, Izzy!”

  “I didn’t—”

  “No!” Justin yelled at him. “You stink of weed like you’ve smoked all fucking night. I’m done! I stuck my neck out for you, and you spat in my face! You’re fired. Get your stuff together. I want you out of here by morning.”

  Wyatt’s chest ached, and he could hardly pull any air into his lungs.

  He saw movement at the other end of the trailer. Sam was there, squinting in confusion at everything that was happening, his jaw hanging.

  “I didn’t do it!” Izzy exclaimed, looking around like he was looking for someone who could—

  Wyatt’s stomach clenched when Izzy’s bleary gaze found him.

  “Wyatt! Baby, I didn’t—”

  Justin grabbed Izzy by the front of his T-shirt. “The fuck did you just call him?”

  Wyatt looked away from Justin and found himself looking at Dad, and Dad looked so hurt and so worried that 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 even know him!”

  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 was normal, 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.

  “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 liked me, 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 to you.”

  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.”

  Dad shook his head. “Kiddo, the police aren’t stupid. They’re gonna ask those guys exactly who Izzy is, and those guys are gonna tell him. He’s going to have to answer questions anyway, you understand?”

  “But he didn’t do anything wrong!”

  “Even if that’s true, he was high tonight, an
d you know Justin’s policy on that.”

  “Because people like Izzy can’t afford EpiPens or insulin or Ativan!” Wyatt said. “And weed is legal here!”

  “You know why Justin doesn’t allow drugs,” Dad reminded him. “You know.”

  And Wyatt thought of a little boy sitting quietly on a couch for hours, with his mother dead beside him.

  “Doesn’t Izzy deserve a second chance?” he asked, his voice small.

  “Wy,” Dad said, shaking his head, “this was his second chance.”

  * * * *

  Wyatt didn’t sleep. He sat on his bed and stared at his window, hoping against hope that Izzy would check to see if he’d left if open, but nothing happened. He heard footsteps in the hallway once, and then, on his way to the bathroom, he heard the low murmur of voices as Dad and Justin talked behind their bedroom door.

  Lettie wasn’t sleeping either, too wired up from the robbery, and she slunk into Wyatt’s room at three in the morning with hot chocolate and cookies.

  “I’m probably gonna skip school tomorrow,” she announced, sitting down on Wyatt’s bed. “I think Dad and Justin will let me.”

  “Because you’re so traumatized?” Wyatt asked wryly.

  Lettie snorted. “I am if it gets me a day off school.”

  “Weren’t you even a little bit scared tonight?” Wyatt asked her.

  Lettie considered that for a moment, and then shook her head. “Nope. Not with the dogs. I don’t care what those idiots thought, dogs are the best security system ever invented. Except maybe for geese. Did you know that in ancient times there were geese who guarded a temple in Rome? You don’t fuck with geese.”

  “I wouldn’t,” Wyatt agreed. “I wouldn’t even fuck with the ducks in our pond. Geese would be much worse.”

  “Are you okay?” Lettie asked curiously.

  Wyatt grimaced.

  “I heard Dad and you talking,” Lettie said frankly. She’d never seen why eavesdropping was such a big deal. It was one of the many boundary issues she had. “I didn’t know you and Izzy were boyfriends.”

  “Yeah, Justin wasn’t happy about that.”

  Lettie shrugged. “I like Izzy. He loves the dogs and they love him.”