8. Chapter 8

Chapter eight

Silas

I 've just finished cleaning the coffee maker when there's a bang on the locked door.

Wyatt.

My nephew at sixteen is already my height and might someday out-broad my shoulders if he keeps growing like he has been. "You're late," I pretend to grouse as I let him in. "I saved all the dirty jobs for you."

"You do know I don't work here during the week, right?" He grins, and like always, it's a bittersweet sight. I love that Wyatt is such a good-tempered, great-natured kid, but when he smiles, he looks exactly like my sister Emily.

And even after sixteen years, it still hurts that she left us. Left Wyatt. Left me, her little brother and best friend, or so she always said.

Because my parents were convinced they did something wrong in raising my sister, they have enrolled Wyatt in every activity that is offered in Battle Harbour. And to our amazement, Wyatt showed an aptitude for most of them. He's the star third baseman of the Harbour Howlers under-eighteen team, designed a comic book, and plays guitar. He's good at school, focusing on science.

He likes astronomy.

I started teaching him about the stars when he was in kindergarten, taking him to the lighthouse up the coast when there was something special to see.

It's our thing now.

Working double shifts at the coffee shop means I haven't had much time lately to go star gazing with Wyatt, but I need to go tonight. Neptune should be in sight, plus the Draconid meteor shower begins in less than two weeks. There's nothing I want more than to check out the night sky with my nephew.

"What's Fenella Carrington doing in town?" Wyatt demands as I finish behind the counter.

"How do you even know who she is?" I wonder.

"Dude. Over seventeen million followers, plus that Michael Kors campaign last year where she's wearing just the handbag? Please tell me you've seen that."

"Please tell me why you've seen it?"

"Uncle Silas," Wyatt says in a girlish voice. "I'm a homosexual, not an idiot. I can appreciate the beauty of a woman as much as a man." He cocks his head, longish dark hair falling to the side. "But the important question is: do you appreciate that woman's beauty?"

"What exactly are you asking?" I pick up the to-go cups—my vanilla latte and a hot chocolate for Wyatt—as I motion Wyatt to the back door .

"I heard she's been in here a lot. Did you ask her out?"

I laugh. "Why would I do that?"

He throws up his hands. "Why would you—dude. It's Fenella Carrington. Naked with a handbag. She's hot , Silas, and you could use some of that in your life."

"I definitely do not need some Fenella Carrington in my life."

"Can I meet her?"

"I'm not about to introduce you to her. She'll be gone in a few days anyway and your hormones can go back to normal. Or whatever has got you so excited."

"She's very attractive," Wyatt reminds me as I lock the back door and head to my car parked in the tiny space off the alley.

"I agree, but I don't go around asking out every attractive woman."

"You should. It's been a long time since you've been on a date. Hey, can I drive?"

"No, it'll be dark before we get there and you're not allowed to drive after dark."

"I'm not allowed to drive anywhere," he grumbles as he slides in the passenger side.

"No, you're not. I'll take you out next week," I promise as I start the car. "When you're done studying for that English test."

"Technically, it's very difficult to study for an English test," Wyatt informs me as I maneuver down the alley to First Street. "You just keep reading over and over again."

"Then read over and over again and when I decide it's enough, I'll take you driving."

Wyatt came into my world when I was fourteen and he disrupted everything. I spent the first six weeks of his life furious with my sister for bringing him home—I was an innocent fourteen and I didn't dwell on how exactly my seventeen-year-old sister ended up with a baby in the first place—until my mother stuck Wyatt in my arms one night when he wouldn't stop crying.

He stopped for me; for a few glorious moments, our house was quiet as Wyatt's big blue eyes tried to focus on my face.

And then he took the biggest poo of his young life, all the way up his diaper, soaking through his sleeper and onto my T-shirt. I didn't care; in those few moments where Wyatt stared at me, a bond was forged and I pledged my life to my baby nephew.

Sixteen years later, Wyatt is still a huge part of my life.

"So when's the last time you had a date?" Wyatt asks as I take the coast road out of town.

"Why are we talking about my dating life when it's you who wants to invite Brody to the Halloween party? How's that going?"

"Done. There's no point stressing about it—I like him, I asked him, and he said yes."

There's not a large LGBTQ community in Battle Harbour, but what there is, is fiercely protected by the people .

It's what scares me about Wyatt leaving for university next year because I know it's not like that everywhere. Or anywhere. The thought of him taking blows from society about who he loves crushes my heart daily.

But I know I have to let him go. I'll support him in whatever way he wants; he knows that.

Being an uncle is tough. But it has some great aspects to it, although Wyatt trying to get me to talk about my dating life is not one of them.

"You should try it sometime," Wyatt wheedles.

"What? Asking Brody to the Halloween party? Nice guy, but not really my type," I tease.

"Ugh! Don't even joke about that. You're way too old for him."

"That is true."

"You're so old you need to go on a date."

"I don't have time to date."

"You don't have time not to date. You're getting old."

"Thirty is not old."

"It is when you're sixteen."

The light is fading as we make our way to the viewing spot. The trees on the side of the road are brilliant with their fall colours and leaves skirt across the road as we pass. Wyatt fiddles with the radio, and I feel myself relax after the day.