It would take a while to get the card, but in the meantime Izzy had bought a couple of edibles and kept them in a tin beside his bed. He hadn’t used any yet. He’d thrown out his old weed
“I messed up a lot when I was younger,” Izzy said one night, tapping his fingers against his knee as he and Wyatt watched a movie. “I made a lot of bad decisions. I don’t want to do that again.”
“You won’t,” Wyatt said.
“You don’t know that.”
Wyatt shrugged. “Maybe I do.”
“I was angry a lot of the time,” Izzy said. “At my mom, and my stepdad. At my teachers. At fucking everyone. I was angriest at myself, I think, and now I look back and wonder why I couldn’t give myself a break, you know? Why’d I hate myself like that? I was just a messed-up kid.”
“What would you tell that kid now?” Wyatt asked softly.