Chapter Nine #3
But to Wyatt’s surprise, Tony flushed. “Uh, yeah. About that . . .” He hesitated, and Wyatt didn’t understand what was going on. Tony was always eager to talk about his latest hookup.
“Tony’s girlfriend isn’t a girlfriend, I guess,” Nana said softly. “I misunderstood the last time we spoke, Wyatt.”
Wyatt could not understand what was happening right now.
Tony, who had been part and parcel with Marco over the years. Not rampantly homophobic, but exuding all sorts of bullshit toxic masculinity? Who had bullied Wyatt for hitting or running like a girl? Tony was not straight?
“Nana,” Tony hissed, but he looked pleased. Like he was happy it was finally out of the bag. “You were supposed to let me tell him.”
“Oh, yes, I suppose I should have. I’m sorry, Tony.”
Wyatt could only sit there in shock as his brother came out to him.
Not once in his life had he ever been envious of either of his brothers.
Not a single fucking time. And now, he was green through and through with jealousy.
Because Tony had found his nerve and his balls and his bravery before Wyatt had.
He should be happy for him, proud of him, but the truth was that he was fucking envious.
“I’m just happy you’re happy,” Wyatt could only say woodenly.
“I am,” Tony said, and for the first time, Wyatt could see that he was. And not only happy, but free.
The jealousy billowing in him grew exponentially.
“Let’s go see my new painting, boys,” Nana said, and they both stood, following her like she’d bidden them.
“I hope that everything’s okay between us,” Tony whispered, leaning towards Wyatt.
Wyatt could only stare back at him incredulously. He must know. “You know it is. You know I’m gay.” He’d never explicitly told either of his brothers, but he’d always figured they must have some idea. The complete lack of girlfriends had probably tipped them off.
“Yeah, of course. I know.” The sympathy in Tony’s eyes was galling and it shouldn’t have been.
Wyatt should have been over the moon for him right now.
“I just figured. She might not be around, at least as herself, for much longer.” Tony shrugged.
“I didn’t want her memories of me to be a lie, and the more I thought about it, the righter it seemed.
To tell her the truth. To tell other people the truth. ”
Nana brought them to the art studio at the home, and Wyatt stood in front of Nana’s new painting, making all the appropriate noises, saying all the right things, but internally he was reeling.
Why hadn’t he thought about this situation with Nana like Tony had?
Why had he seen the situation through shades of fear, instead of trusting the woman who had raised him and loved him?
Why had he doubted her inherent ability to love him unconditionally?
He loved her unconditionally. He’d accepted everything that she was dealing with, and had done everything in his meager power to make sure she was protected and safe and taken care of.
Why had he assumed that she would feel any less towards him?
When he and Tony finally exited the home, Wyatt felt like he’d been wading through fog for the better part of the two hours he’d spend with her.
“You look thrown, man,” Tony said, clapping him hard on the shoulder as they paused near Wyatt’s bike. “Were you going to tell her first or?” He hesitated, like he’d been waiting for Wyatt to come out first, like Wyatt had that right in the family.
It was still too new for Wyatt to trust Tony, to confide in him. No matter what sexuality he was. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do,” Tony said evenly. “I’m just figuring my shit out, and for awhile, I figured it was your turn first. You’ve been waiting a long time. New job. I figure you must be hooking up with Flores, that’s why you left Terroir.”
Wyatt rolled his eyes. Trust Tony to be so close, yet so far, from the truth. “I’m not hooking up with Flores.” Present tense. “I left Terroir because the Bastard pays pennies on the dollar. I needed the money to help pay for Nana’s care.”
Tony had the nerve to look ashamed. “I’m sorry about that. I think in a month or two, I can start contributing too. And I’ll harass Marco. He always seems to have money, though god knows I don’t want to know where he gets it from.”
“I don’t know if I want Marco’s blood money,” Wyatt snarked. Was Tony even joking? Wyatt wasn’t sure he wanted to know either.
“I’ll just tell him to send you the legitimately earned dollars,” Tony teased, sliding his sunglasses back on his face.
“I’ve got to run, but don’t be a stranger.
” They hugged, quick and tight, and Wyatt tried to remember the last time they’d even touched, never mind embraced.
When they were kids, probably. And that made more sense now than it had ever made back then.
Poor Tony, hiding for so long. It ached, that knowledge, but Wyatt still couldn’t seem to assuage the jealousy.
Tony’s old Mustang was parked next to Wyatt’s bike. The paint looked better, and when Tony slid into it and started it, it didn’t rumble like it was about to explode in fifteen seconds.
It was hard to realign his world again, but Wyatt realized as he climbed onto his bike that Tony was actually getting his shit together.
For the first time ever, maybe it was time for Wyatt to follow in his big brother’s footsteps.