“How the hell did my big sister get to be so smart?” Zack asked, ruffling her wavy hair affectionately. “It’s hard to believe we come from the same family sometimes.”

“Nah, you’re definitely my brother. Though sometimes I do wish you’d catch on a bit faster.”

Zack let out a surprised bark of laughter. “Is that right?”

“Of course. Don’t you remember when I was packing up to go to college? I kept emphasizing to you how great it was to attend school out of state and how many schools there were that were hundreds of miles from our parents. I never have to come up with excuses for missing Sunday dinner, because I can always just say I’m too busy to make such a long trip.”

“Damn,” Zack said, “and here I thought you were just bragging.”

“Like I said, if only you’d been a bit less slow on the uptake.” Bianca pulled her keys out of her purse. “Want a ride home?”

Zack considered it. “Yeah, if you don’t mind ducking out early.”

“I’d love to.” Bianca started toward her car and then stopped short. “Zack, about what you said inside . . .” She looked uneasy. “You know Mom and Dad don’t care that you’re gay, right? I mean, did you just say that because you were angry?”

Zack pressed his lips together and looked down. “I know they don’t care per se, but honestly, I think some part of them believes I’m only gay because I want to be difficult.”

Bianca’s expression was so sad, Zack couldn’t quite look at her. “You don’t mean that.”

“Think about it,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. “If you asked them, ‘Why do you think Zack decided to come out?’ do you think they’ll say ‘Because that’s who he is’? Or do you think they’ll laugh and say, ‘Because nothing is easy with Zack’?”

Bianca looked up at the streetlights, a worried line etched between her brows. With her face half cast in shadow, she looked less like an adult and more like the uncertain little girl Zack remembered from his childhood.

“Come on,” she eventually said. “Let’s get you home.”

Zack spent the rest of his evening angrily playing guitar and ignoring calls from his mom. After he broke his third D string—and nearly lost an eye in the process—he finally put his guitar away and went to bed.

He woke up just after dawn on Monday, though he didn’t have to be at work until six that night. He’d always been an early riser, a fact that shocked nearly everyone who knew him. His odd work hours had made him selectively nocturnal, but on the days after he didn’t have work, when he was well rested and recuperated, he liked to wake with the sun.

Zack breezed through his morning routine and then took Ziggy out for a run. It was a cool, crisp day. The sky was cloudless, and the grass still shimmered with dew. Zack breathed in deeply. On mornings like this, when it was quiet and still, he could almost forget he lived in a city of four million people.