“You look sad,” she mumbles into my t-shirt. “Did you and Wes have a fight?”
And then, it clicks. Jacey’s embarrassed for walking in on me, but not that it was with Wes. There’s no way she doesn’t know that something was going on—she’s a really smart kid—but she doesn’t care. I’ve built it up to be such a big deal in my head, and now my fifteen-year-old sister is proving that I’m an idiot.
“Sol? Is that you?” Mom calls through from the kitchen.
I squeeze Jacey and she releases me. “Yeah. Coming.”
Mom turns as we walk into the kitchen, but the smile she’s wearing fades as she looks at me. “What happened?”
“He had a fight with Wes,” Jacey says, hopping up onto a stool at the island.
Mom puts down the cloth she’s holding and walks over to give me a hug. No questions. Just comfort. And my eyes burn. I’m a fucking idiot. I told Wes I didn’t know what to say, but of course I did.
Last night, I was trying to think of ways to ask Wes to be mine. To be, my boyfriend, I guess.Shit. My heart gallops at the thought. It’s terrifying, but I want it. I want him. Even though he’s kind of an asshole for running out on me, I get it. It’s normal to have freaked out that Jacey walked in on us, but it should have given me the kick up the ass I needed to tell my family that Wes is a lot more than a friend.
“Oh, honey,” Mom says, stroking my back. She steers me toward a stool, so we’re almost face to face, and I try not to wince as I sit down. “You don’t have to talk about it, but you know we’re here if you want to.”
I nod, not trusting myself with words.
“If it helps, you two seem really good together,” she says. “I’m sure you’ll work it out.”
I nod again as she squeezes my shoulders and returns to where the pan is starting to sizzle on the stove. Then my breath catches in my chest. “Wait. What?”
Mom keeps her back to me as she layers bacon in. “You heard.”
Jacey snorts next to me and pours herself a glass of orange juice, leaving me to look between them like I’ve walked into an alternate dimension.
Mom turns and gives Jacey a look that has her grumbling before sliding off her stool and going into the living room. Then she turns to me. “You’ve brought girls home, Sol, but you’ve never introduced one as a girlfriend.”
I blink. “I’ve had girlfriends.”
“I didn’t say you hadn’t.”
“I’ve never brought a boyfriend home either,” I say carefully.
Dad coughs behind me and I turn to find him leaning against the doorframe in his running gear. “Could have fooled me.”
My mouth falls open. “Wes and I . . . We’re not . . .”
“Official?” Mom offers. “Because you’re clearly more than friends.”
My skin burns. “I . . . We . . .”
“Sol.” Dad grips my shoulder and squeezes. “We want you to be happy. Wes is a really great guy. We all like him. It’s that simple.”
My chest squeezes and I drop my head into my hands. Of course, my family would be awesome about this. I told Wes, they’re the best. And it’s true. I won the freakin’ family lottery. And I hate myself for doubting for one second that they would be less than supportive.
Wes’ words bounce around my skull. The pressure I put on myself. I’ve always felt like it was my family’s expectations, but it’s not. I could flunk out of college, and they’d support me. They’d be concerned, sure, but they’d support me. The pressure I put myself under is mine and mine alone.
“They had a fight,” Mom says, the increase in sizzling telling me that she’s back at the stove.
Dad slides onto the seat beside me, his knees knocking mine. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I drop my hands, but stare at the floor. “He thinks I’m embarrassed. I freaked out about you guys finding out about us. And I’m an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot.” Dad chuckles. “Your sexuality isn’t something we’ve ever discussed, and I’m sorry we weren’t more open about letting you know that we don’t care, as long as you’re happy.”
I grimace at the word ‘sexuality’ coming from my dad’s mouth but shake my head. “I don’t know what I am, but I know I like Wes.”