Page 6 of Courageous Hearts

Teenagers can be cruel, and there’s every chance he won’t know what to make of me. I’m used to fielding questions about my appearance—like why I dress femme—which then leads to questions about being nonbinary. But the younger kids I’ve mentored so far have only been naturally inquisitive, not judgmental.

“I bet he’ll love you,” Cooper says.

I hum, stopping outside my door and slipping my key into the lock. “I’m home,” I note, letting the door shut behind me as I trudge up the stairs toward my third-floor apartment above the best bagel shop in Wicker Park.

“Anything else to report?” Cooper asks.

I chuckle. “Not a thing, Coop. Talk soon?”

“You bet. Night, Bo.”

“Night,” I reply.

I hang up right as I reach my apartment door, and once inside, I lock it. After relieving myself in the bathroom and brushing my teeth, I head to the bedroom I share with Dee. On my side of the large, decorative room divider, I strip off my joggers and t-shirt and take a moment to pass my fingers along the pink, lacy briefs sitting at my hips. I like the feel of them on my skin. How they make me feel delicate. And soft.

With a little sigh, I pull on some cozy sweats and slide into bed, tugging my comforter up to my chin. The apartment is quiet, silence reigning around me, and I wiggle back and forth a few times until I’m tucked firmly within my sheets. It’s comforting being snug like a burrito, but not for the first time, I wish I were wrapped in strong arms instead of my weighted blankets.

Maybe, someday soon, I could have that. A man of my own. My Mr. Right.

But until then, an enby sure can dream.

Chapter 3

Jameson

“Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?”

“Har, har,” I reply, rolling my eyes at Grant, who’s watching me with some amusement through our video chat.

“Seriously, are those suspenders?” he asks, eyes squinted.

Sophia, Grant’s wife, pops into frame, unabashed about her nosiness. Her eyes flash wide, and she shakes her head, causing her mane of thick, curly hair to smack Grant in the face. “Is that James?” she asks loudly, employing the nickname only she and Grant use and craning her neck as if trying to look behind me. “That can’t be James.”

“I don’t look that different, do I?” I ask, glancing down at myself and smoothing out my shirt.

I’d just finished dressing for my shift at Gertie’s when my brother called. If I knew he and his wife were going to be such smartasses, I might not have answered the phone.

Grant shares a look with Sophia. “The last time I saw you looking this dapper was at our wedding,” he says.

Fair enough. My normal wardrobe is far more casual than what’s required for the Gertie’s dress code.

“Well, I think it looks nice,” I say with a shrug.

“Oh, it does,” Sophia chimes in, nodding emphatically. “You look like Grant.”

Me and my brother groan in unison, and Grant abandons the video call for a moment, walking off screen. Probably to throw up. I get it. I’m not a fan of being compared to my strait-laced teacher brother either.

Sophia laughs, picking up the phone and holding it in front of her. “You look great, James. You like the new job?”

I blow out a breath. “It’s only been a couple days, but yeah. I love it so far.”

Memories of last night pop into my head. The loud, wonderfully wild energy in the air. The way the light from the chandeliers cast over the room like little twinkling spotlights. That feeling of being transported to a bygone era with each and every song that was performed up on stage. And a particular pair of long stockinged legs and accompanying red lips.

With a little frown, I shake that last detail from my mind, unsure why it popped into my head in the first place.

Sophia grins. “We’ll have to pay a visit.”

“Anytime,” I tell her as Grant ambles back on screen. “I have to get going, though, or I’ll be late.”

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