“I hate you,” Jules announced as she stood.
Wyatt rolled his eyes again. “Hello, I’m the same damn age. I even got a few minutes on ya.”
“This isn’t ’bout my age,” Jules told him passionately. “You’re not the only one who’s loved. I ain’t saying what you had with that bitch Tabitha wasn’t real, but you don’t own the patent on loving and hurting in this town. You were dead wrong ’bout Clay and Melody, and you’re wrong ’bout me. Even if it’s over now, what I had with Romeo was real.”
Wyatt glared after Jules’s passionate speech. “Don’t call Tabitha a bitch. I don’t care how dented you think your heart is, I ain’t gonna sit here and listen to that.”
“I’m wasting my breath.” Jules turned to leave. “You’re the last person in the world I should be talking to ’bout love.”
“Look, Jules, I’m trying real hard to be understanding here. I ain’t giving ya shit over it being Wellings. A criminal. A guy who threw a fight. A championship fight. I mean, that’s just”—Wyatt shook his head, feeling completely lost that his own twin could get involved with someone that devoid of honor—“I don’t even know where to start with that. This whole fight thing’s so fucking illegal and immoral I can’t even wrap my mind ’round it. How the hell didja get mixed up with a fella like that?”
“Thank you for not giving me shit over it,” Jules said drily. “I really appreciate that.”
237
“I should call the gaming commission,” Wyatt reminded her as he leaned his elbow on the back of the couch. “I can’t believe I’m hesitating.” Jules snorted, sounding as surprised as him by the reluctance to report the crime.
“So what’s stopping ya?”
“I don’t know,” Wyatt told her honestly because he’d been asking himself that same question all day. Throwing a fight went against every fiber in Wyatt’s being. Just thinking about it made him furious. “I’m guessing it’s some kinda built-in, genetic loyalty to you that’s getting in the way. I’d rather him get away with spitting on the sport than hurt you, which is wrong. I shouldn’t let your feelings get in the way of a moral obligation. It’s really bugging me.”
“Is that really it?” Jules asked in surprise, her voice softening. “You’d protect him for me? I ain’t all that inclined toward him myself right now, but knowing you’d do that means something, Wy Wy.”
He lifted his gaze to her, hearing the vein of hope in Jules’s voice. For the life of him he couldn’t figure out why it was his hesitance to call the gaming commission that’d finally broken through when he’d been trying to get her to come around all night.
Wyatt sighed. “Sometimes, Ju Ju Bean, I really wish you’d been a boy. It’d make my life so much easier. When it comes to stuff like this, ya don’t make a lick of sense to me.”
A ghost of a smile tugged at Jules’s lips. “You want your birthday presents? I could use the distraction.”
“I guess.” Wyatt shrugged, still feeling confused.
Jules disappeared up the stairs and rather than try to figure out his hormonal twin sister, Wyatt went ahead and followed her up the steps. He dug the second present he’d gotten her out of his closet and placed it on the dresser as Jules appeared at his doorway with packages in both hands.
“Happy birthday to me,” he said, eyeing the bags tentatively. “Is there anything in there I’ll actually like?”
238
“Maybe.” She pointed to his bed. “Sit.”
Wyatt sat obligingly and then took the first package Jules handed him. He opened it quickly and efficiently, finding three T-shirts, each a different hue of blue.
“They match your eyes. Any color blue looks good on us,” Jules announced and then pointed to his T-shirt. “You should burn that old yellow thing.”
“It’s comfortable.”
“It’s ugly and it washes you out. You’re too blond to be walking ’round in that color.” Jules handed him another package. “I bought you two different pairs of jeans this year. The loose fit you usually wear and then something a little tighter in case you find someone to impress.”
“Okay.” Wyatt opened the second package despite Jules already announcing what it was. Not that it was much of a surprise to begin with. She bought him clothes every year. He pulled out the jeans, finding the tighter pair Jules mentioned, and pulled a face. “I dunno—”