Page 76 of Hurricane Love

“So?”

“So, it’s not like he moved across the country. Y’all didn’t have to break up.”

“We weren’t together,” Diego said, though if he were being honest, they absolutely were together in every sense except for the label. Arturito gave him another disbelieving look, so Diego fell back on a familiar refrain. “He’s starting a new life up there. I don’t want to hold him back. I’m an ex-con, remember?”

His cousin’s side eye told him that he clearly wasn’t buying his bullshit. “That’s weak, bro. Sounds to me like you’re being a pussy.”

Diego’s mouth dropped open. “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“Not on the lips,” Arturito said cheekily. “But seriously, cuz, you’re just pussing out here. Call it what you want, but you could make it work if you wanted to. I mean, it’s not like you couldn’t find a barbecue joint to work at up there, know what I’m saying? No offense.”

It reminded him of what Wylie had said, about him needing to want this too and to fight for it.

“Sounds like you don’t really miss him all that much–” Arturito began.

“Idomiss him,” Diego interrupted, of that fact he was certain.

“Then it may be time to man up. Hot, mouthy twinks don’t come along every day. Trust me, I know.” He pointed at Diego with a pair of limp fries before shoving them both into his mouth at once.

Was it possible that his little cousin had just schooled him?

Diego expecteda call from Wylie that Tuesday night. Maybe he shouldn’t have, but he did. And when he didn’t hear from him, Diego figured he was at the library or trying to meet a deadline. After all, it wasn’t like Tuesday nightbelongedto him. Not really.

He let it go and sent a few texts throughout the week, just to check in and say what’s up, but he received only a couple sporadic responses, mostly emoji reactions or one-word answers sent at odd hours of the night, which concerned him. He tried calling between working a double at the pit, but his call went straight to voicemail. He told himself he’d try again later that night, but it was late by the time he got home, and he didn’t want to disturb Wylie if he was sleeping.

The next morning he woke up early and was just finishing up a run when he noticed a missed call from Nancy, including a voicemail. They’d exchanged numbers a while back and texted from time to time. Hannah too. Wylie wanted his people to keep in touch, and he’d asked Diego to check in on both of them in his absence.

He pressed play on his voicemail and Nancy’s raspy voice came on the line.“Hey, Diego, it’s Nancy, Nancy Miller. I just got off the phone with Wylie and, well, he doesn’t sound too good. Not sick or anything, but he seems…down. He gets like that sometimes. After his mother died, he got a little depressed. Wouldn’t eat or get out of bed. Worried me a bit. Anyway, I was hoping you might be able to give him a call and let me know what you think. I know school’s been hard and being away from all of us is tough on him too. Anyway, that’s all. Hope you’re doing well.”

Immediately after listening to her voicemail, Diego found Wylie’s name in his recent numbers and pressed Call, counting out the seconds while trying to calm his racing thoughts. Nancy wouldn’t call him unless she wasreallyworried. And Wylie had never said anything to him about depression. ADHD, sure, but not depression. But, he had hinted at it, hadn’t he?

The call went to voicemail so Diego ended it and tried again straightaway, determined to keep calling until he got Wylie on the line. He needed to hear his voice and make sure he was okay. Finally, a few rings later, a very spaced-out sounding Wylie answered.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, Wy, it’s me, Diego.”

“Oh, hey.”

“Did I wake you?”

“No, I wasn’t sleeping. Not really.”

“Thought I’d call and check in on you. How’s it going?” Diego was trying to keep it light, though he didn’t feel any relief, especially with Wylie sounding so out of it. The resulting silence stretched on for so long that Diego had to ask again, “Wy, you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” he said with a heavy sigh.

“What’s going on?”

Another long pause, and then Wylie said in a quiet, shaky voice. “I think…maybe…I’m not doing so great.”

It’d been nearly two weeks since Diego had last spoken to him, and he hadn’t seemed like himself then either. Wylie told him that he was having a tough time—with school, with living on his own—and Diego had just chalked it up to homesickness. But this was something more. Diego started making plans, even as he kept Wylie talking.

“When’s the last time you’ve eaten?” Diego asked, trying to be gentle without letting on how worried he really was.

“Dunno. A while.”

“What do you have in the house?”