He turned around. His eyes were wet again, but there was anger in them now, and honestly, the anger was easier to look at.
“Do you know what it’s like to hear it from him? From my best friend? In a parking lot after graduation, with my cap still on?” His voice rose. “He said, ‘Wy, I think we’re brothers,’ and I laughed at him. I told him he was being a freak. And he just stood there looking at me like he was sorry for me.”
“Wyatt —”
“I called him a liar, Mom. I called him a liar because I trusted you.”
That one landed exactly where he meant it to. I didn’t defend myself. I didn’t have anything to defend myself with.
“You’re right,” I said. “You should have heard it from me. Years ago. I’m sorry.”
He stood there breathing hard for a long moment. Then the fight went out of him, all at once, and he sat back down.
