Wyatt’s holding him tight, and Jessup holds firm, too. They hug for half a minute, which is an eternity, and finally, when they both let go and both step back, they meet each other with the same chagrined smile.
“I’d call you a pansy,” Wyatt says, “but I think I’m the one who hugged you first.”
“You said you love me, too,” Jessup says, and they both laugh.
Wyatt is still laughing when he says, “I do love you, brother, but can I just tell you one thing? One thing about David John?”
Jessup looks up to the sky again. The snow is starting out light. Enough to look picturesque, not enough to be impressive. Later tonight, back in the trailer—assuming that’s where he ends up, instead of in jail, he thinks, allowing himself the fantasy for a moment—if it keeps snowing, it will be nice to light a fire in the woodstove, put on a movie, sit in the love seat with Jewel, let his mom and David John have the couch. With the lights turned off inside, the blue glow of the television painting the walls, the snow outside will dance through the porch light, and he’ll spend as much time watching that as he does watching the movie.
“Sure,” Jessup says. “Tell me one thing about David John.” He knows that he’s gone from hugging his best friend and crying with him to sounding like a petulant child, but he can’t help himself. He meant what he said. None of this would have happened if his mom and David John hadn’t gotten together. But then again, none of the other stuff might have either: his mom quitting drinking, Jessup’s grades and football, his ticket out of Cortaca. And he knows for sure that none of this would have happened: David John carrying him off the field in his arms, the way his mom smiles at David John, how happy he makes her. And above all else, Jewel. Without David John, he wouldn’t have his sister.
“I went to visit him four times, I think, five times.” Jessup opens his mouth but Wyatt rushes on. “Look, I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I do actually understand why you didn’t visit, and I do understand that you’re angry. It’s just the two of us here, okay, and we’ve known each other long enough that we can drop the bullshit. This isn’t about whether or not you went to visit him. This is about a promise.” Wyatt looks up at the sky now, too. “Told you it would snow.”
“Okay,” Jessup says. “So? You went to visit my stepfather?”
Wyatt shakes his head. “I went with my mom, the few times your mom couldn’t make it with Jewel. When she had the chicken pox, I think strep once or twice, something else. Your mom didn’t want him to have to go without a visitor, and my mom offered, and she asked me if I’d keep her company. It was mostly just small talk. Him and my mom chatting. He’d ask me about school and football and stuff, but nothing serious. But every time I went, he’d tell my mom he wanted to talk to me alone. You know, man to man. Just for a few minutes. And every single time, he made me promise to take care of you.”
Jessup feels like he should have seen it coming, but he’s blindsided. “Take care of me?”
Wyatt has the temerity to laugh. “Come on, man. Everybody sees it but you. You’re a big old marshmallow. He saw it. I see it. Everybody sees it. You can knock the snot out of somebody on the football field, and you’re a mediocre wrestler—”
“Hey!”
“—and fast enough for high school track, but that’s it. Ricky was skinny, but he was tough in a way you’ll never be. He’ll do his time and he’ll be okay, but man, you could never do it. You wouldn’t last a week in prison. You can take care of yourself physically, but that’s not the half of it, not in life. You’re not built for any of it.”
“Come on, Wyatt.”
“It’s true, Jessup. That’s why he asked me to look after you. Didn’t ask, really,” Wyatt says. “He made me promise. Every time I went to visit him he said the same thing. He said, ‘Promise to watch out for Jessup. You promise to keep my son safe.’”