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I nodded.
“If I wake you up early enough, do you think you can stick around for breakfast at least? For moral support when I tell Dad and Maya?”
“Of course,” I assured her. “But I don’t think you’ll need it.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Maybe I just want my favorite brother there. Is that a crime?”
Despite how raw I still was from my conversation with Kyler tonight, I managed a smile. “Definitely not. And I’m youronlybrother.”
“Which automatically makes you my favorite,” she teased as she stood up. “You okay now?”
“As okay as I can be. Thanks, Iz. For being here. For not asking questions.”
“I’m always here for you, Ian. Whenever you need me,” she said, giving me one more hug before heading toward the door.
* * *
I’d maybe gotten three hours of sleep when my alarm woke me up the next morning. After Izzie had left my room, I’d fired up my laptop and used the incognito mode on my web browser to search for any information or resources I could find about dating a survivor of sexual assault. And I’d found nothing beyond the canned “be there to listen, support them however they need it, and realize that they’re going to have triggers surrounding intimacy and they might not be ready to be intimate for a while.”
That was all well and good, and as far as I was concerned, it went without saying. But what about when shewasready? How could I help and support her then? What was I supposed to do to help her feel safe and try to prevent panic attacks if she decided shewantedto take that step? I could already tell that she’d been trying to push past some of her fears lately, and I wanted to make sure I was supporting her in that without making her feel like she had to do anything she wasn’t ready for. Why weren’t thereanyarticles about that anywhere?
Yes, I knew we’d have to talk about it whenever she was ready and that I needed to askherwhat might potentially be triggering for her, but there had to be more to it than that, right? I also knew I could always use the national sexual assault hotline’s phone number or online chat feature, but I didn’t feel right doing that. They only had so many counselors at any given time, and I didn’t want to take one of them away from someone who really needed help.
A knock sounded on my bedroom door, breaking me out of the leftover frustration from my fruitless Internet browsing.
“Bro, you coming down for breakfast?” Izzie called.
“Yeah, be right out,” I called back, yawning.
I quickly brushed my teeth and ran a brush through my hair, then threw on some jeans and my Chiefs jersey and grabbed my varsity jacket for extra warmth. Then I grabbed the game tickets and parking pass off my dresser and stuck them in my wallet and clipped my keys to my beltloop before heading out of my room.
Izzie gave me a knowing look when I opened the door. “How much sleep did you get last night?”
“Not enough,” I sighed. “But I’ll live. Let’s go down. I still need to get the grill and the food into the truck.”
“I’ll help after breakfast. You should make some hot chocolate too and bring it in that big thermal dispenser,” she said as we headed down the stairs. “My phone says it’s thirty-five degrees this morning.”
I groaned. “Colder than they said. Great.”
“Morning, kids!” Maya chirped from the breakfast bar as we walked into the kitchen. “There’s coffee if you want it.”
I shook my head. “I’m going to stop by Starbucks on the way to Ky’s. Izzie forfeited her Chiefs ticket.”
“She did what?” my dad asked, looking up from the Sunday crossword.
“Ky’s had a rough couple of days. She needs the distraction.”
“And I actually need to head back to Lawrence,” Izzie added. “My girlfriend’s helping me study for a huge test I have tomorrow.”
I snorted. That was one way to tell them about Hillary, I guessed.
My dad raised an eyebrow. “Your girlfriend?”
Izzie nodded. “Yeah. I’ve…I’ve been dating a girl named Hillary since April. That’s actually why I came home for the weekend. To talk to you about her.”
Just like I’d known he would, my dad got up and walked around the table, enveloping his oldest child in a hug.
“I’m happy for you, sweetheart,” he murmured.
