Page 102 of The Summer of Everything

“Again!” Cooper and Anna yell simultaneously.

“I love Nicolás Alvarez!”

They all crack up. When the laughter dies down, Wes’s stomach is too tight for him to breathe. Ella squeezes his forearm and says, “For the record, I was always Team Nico.”

They dissolve into laughter again. It’s the best Wes’s felt in seventy-two hours.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Steam swirls in a thincloud from the mug of tea sitting in front of Wes. Engraved in the ceramic is the Brews and Views logo. He eyes it suspiciously. It smells good, an earthy bold flavor. Oolong, possibly. And Wes is ninety-nine percent certain it’s poisoned.

Across from him, Leo stares, one eyebrow raised, his mouth twitching impatiently.

“There’s cyanide in here, right?” Wes gestures toward the mug. It was sitting at the table waiting for Wes before he arrived.

“No.”

“Odorless horse tranquilizers? Arsenic? Heroin?” Tentatively, Wes sniffs, then sips the tea. He’s not experiencing any instant numbness. He’s not lightheaded. There could be delayed symptoms, but for now, the tea’s…incredible.

“It’s regular, boring, overpriced oolong,” Leo confirms, sipping his own extra dry cappuccino. It’s decaf and made with almond milk, not because Leo’s lactose intolerant, but because he’s just a complicated, pretentious dick.

Slurping his tea, Wes studies Leo. The first two buttons of his starched white shirt are undone; his sleeves are bunched at his elbows. He hasn’t shaved. His tie’s loose. Honestly, he looks a mess.

“Sup with you?”

“Interning, studying for the LSAT, and trying to ensure your fiancée doesn’t have an aneurysm over your ideal wedding venue being bookedtwo yearsin advance is detrimental to my health.” Leo wipes at his foam moustache. “At least the coffee’s good.”

“Sorry,” Wes says, sounding anything but that.

“You haven’t answered any of my texts.” Leo folds his arms on the table.

“Been busy. Planning a funeral for your childhood fantasies is a lot of work.”

“Wes,” Leo tries.

“Is that why you invited me here?” Wes asks, voice hard. “You need me to return to my wedding duties?”

“Leeann misses you,” Leo says softly. “And you haven’t answered any of her calls either. That’s not like you.”

Wes rolls his eyes. Leeann’s a narc. She’s sold Wes out to his own demonic kin.

“So, what? You’re here to play nice?” Wes hisses, almost burning his tongue as he gulps tea. “This pretend, ‘I care so much’ version of Leo? You can keep it. I’m good.”

“No,” Leo says, low and defeated. They’re seated in a far corner, close to the large storefront windows. Sunlight pours over them. The rain’s finally left. In its wake, a milder August warmth has emerged. Leo squints at the people passing by outside. “I don’t really know how to be the brother I should be to you.”

“What?”

Leo drags a finger around the rim of his mug. “We’re so different,” he says. “When we were growing up, I felt like I had to protect you. We liked different stuff. Different things set us off.”

He clears his throat, eyes on the table. “The kids my age would make fun of you.”

Wes flops back in his chair. “Okay.”

Behind the bar, Kyra’s not-so-secretly watching over them. Beyoncé plays on the speakers, and she’s singing along. But her eyes never leave Wes’s face. She’s waiting for any indication to jump in. Wes loves her for that, but he needs to hear Leo out.

“I tried to make you less…you,” Leo says, voice dropping in shame. “I tried to make you like different things. Act a certain way. I was hard on you, hoping you’d get the hint that I didn’t want to give anyone a reason to pick on you.”

“Ha.” Wes’s forehead wrinkles. “How’d that work out for you?”

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