Straddling The Line: Play-By-Play Book 8 Page 26

  He ignored her outstretched hand. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’d like to talk to you.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “I wanted to talk to you, too. I actually sent you a text message today asking where you were.”

  “You did?” She’d been busy all day making notes and writing out plans and hadn’t checked her phone.

  “Yeah. I was going to ask if you’d come out here and meet me.”

  Encouraged, she curved her lips into a half smile. “Well, it’s fortunate that I’m here.”

  “You didn’t tell me why you came.”

  “Oh, that.” She scratched the side of her nose, nervous now that the ball was in her court. “I brought some things with me. I don’t want you to get mad.”

  “I’m not mad, Haven. Show me what you brought.”

  She led him over to the dining room table. “As you know, I have dual degrees. One is in journalism, the other in special education. I spent some time working with students with learning disabilities.”

  He stared down at the table. “So what is all this . . . stuff?”

  She lifted her gaze to his. “It’s an assessment. And with your permission, I’d like to do an assessment on you. I’m not a professional, Trevor. Not even close to it. But I did plenty of these during my internship, and I know how to assess learning disabilities like dyslexia. I know you can read.”

  Trevor sucked in a breath. “I can read, Haven. Sort of. I can’t read well. I get mixed up. It frustrates me.”

  “Okay. So let me do this assessment and let’s see where you stand. I really think I can help you, or at least guide you to the right resources and people who can help you.”

  He sat down at the table. She sat in the chair next to him and waited for him to gather his thoughts. The one thing she’d learned was patience. This had to come when he was ready.

  Finally, he started. “My dad was illiterate. He couldn’t read at all. He worked as a laborer. My mom tried to help him, but she didn’t know about it until much later in their marriage, because he hid it from her. When she tried to help him, or encourage him to finish school, he got angry.” He looked out the door toward the deck. “He was always angry. At her, and at me. He’d lash out at us all the time.”

  “Did he hit you?”

  “No. It was always verbal. But it was loud and all the damn time.”

  “You had no escape.”

  Trevor shook his head. “I hung out there in the living room watching TV with my mom, listening to the old man rant and rave. And with every beer, he’d get louder and louder. He was just an unhappy son of a bitch, and took it out on us.

  “She finally couldn’t take his outbursts and she left. It was rough for a while. She had to work two jobs to make ends meet until she met my stepdad. Then things got better.”

  “Did you ever see him after that?”

  “No. He didn’t want to be around me, I guess. Or whatever. I have no idea what happened to him. I can’t say I missed him all that much, and when my mom remarried, my stepdad was a much nicer guy. But then I realized I couldn’t read, and I felt like I was going to turn out just like my dad.”

  Haven felt such sympathy for what Trevor had gone through. “Because you got frustrated and angry, too.”

  “Yeah. So I hid it from everyone. I was determined not to turn out like my old man. I never wanted anyone to know. I could fake it pretty easy. And I had the charm thing going, you know? I was nice enough and I could read just enough to get by.”

  “It must have been so frightening for you to try to hide this secret all these years. No one knew?”

  “My brother did. He helped me out with homework. God, he’s so fucking smart. I’d have never made it without him. And my mom would try to help, but she didn’t know the extent of what was wrong with me. She’d already gone through so much with my dad. I didn’t want her to have to deal with my shit, too.”

  She laid her hand over his. “Trevor. Nothing is wrong with you. If my guess is correct, your brain is just wired differently and you have to learn to use that difference in how you read and comprehend. There’s nothing wrong with you. Understand?”

  He shrugged. “So what are these tests?”

  “There are several evaluations of comprehension, along with family history, that’ll help me determine what might possibly be hindering your ability to read at an appropriate level.”

  He got up, went into the kitchen, and grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator. “Do you want one?”

  “Sure.”

  He handed one to her, then opened his and took a long swallow. “Okay, then. Let’s get started.”

  TREVOR COULDN’T RECALL EVER TAKING MORE TESTS than the ones Haven had given him. First they’d gone over his history, including familial history, health history, and school history. He’d been honest with her—hell, more honest with her than he’d ever been with anyone before.

  Then there’d been the testing. Reading comprehension, vocabulary, verbal reasoning and spelling, math, and several other tests. He was sure he’d failed them all, because that was what tests brought to mind. Sweat. Fear. Failure.

  Tests had always equaled failure. But this time, he wasn’t going to be able to charm or bullshit his way out of them. He was as honest as he could be with his answers. And there were a lot of things he just couldn’t get through. But Haven was patient with him, and didn’t once look at him like he was stupid.

  After they were finished, he’d gone out and gotten them something to eat while Haven worked on evaluating the tests. She’d taken a break to eat with him, then gone back to the evaluation, while he’d watched some TV, but he wasn’t really concentrating. He probably wouldn’t until he’d gotten the verdict.

  Though he already knew the verdict, didn’t he? He was a failure. He was stupid.

  Nothing he didn’t already know, right?

  And the two of them still hadn’t reconnected on a personal level, so there was a wall between them that needed to be scaled. He hadn’t figured out how he was going to start that conversation.

  One thing at a time, right?

  “Trevor.”

  He turned off the TV and came over to the dining room. “Yeah.”

  “Sit down.”

  He swallowed, hard, and took a seat, feeling as nervous as he always had every time he’d taken a test.

  “I’ve gone over your tests, and I’m going to tell you again I don’t do this for a living, so it’s not a professional evaluation.”

  “Okay. Just tell me.”

  “This is going to be somewhat detailed, so bear with me. It’s important to give you a comprehensive overview, so you understand what you’re dealing with.”

  “Okay.”

  She went over every test with him, showing him where he’d done well and where he hadn’t. She was thorough and took her time, making sure he understood what she was talking about. She didn’t speed through it, and he made sure he stopped her if something didn’t make sense. She was also honest—brutally so—and he appreciated it. This was what he’d dreaded for so many years, but also what he’d desperately needed.

  Someone to help him.

  “You have very good verbal abilities and a good grasp of vocabulary. Which is why you’re so well-spoken, and likely why you’ve managed to fly under the radar so well all these years.” She gave him an encouraging smile.

  “Where you struggle is with reading comprehension and spelling. Though honestly, Trevor, it’s not as dire as you might think. You have good memory skills, and I think with some professional assistance, you could work through the reading comprehension issues.”

  He waited, and when she didn’t say anything else, he asked, “That’s it?”

  “It’s a lot more complex than that. It sounds to me like your father was dyslexic, a trait that’s been known to be inherited.”

  “I have dyslexia.” Just saying the word made his stomach clench.

  “It would appear so. Again, I’m not
a professional, but I did train for this and did some diagnostic work with learning-disabled adults. But yes, based on these test results, you’re dyslexic. It’s not a severe form, but because you’ve hidden it all these years and haven’t sought help, it just seems worse to you. It’s something you can learn to work with. The problem is, you’ve been so frustrated with your inability to read and write well that you just stopped, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And other people have been doing it for you all these years.”

  “Yeah. My agent and my lawyer.”

  “You need to stop that. And do you realize what a beacon of hope you could be for struggling youth, especially those who look up to you? If you come out publicly and say you have dyslexia, that it’s something you’ve struggled with your entire life, and that you’re working on getting help, you could help so many others.”

  He shook his head. “It’s not something I want to discuss publicly.”

  “Why not? It’s not something to be ashamed of, Trevor. This isn’t your father’s generation any longer. Hell, it hasn’t been for some time. Do you know how many brilliant people are dyslexic? Albert Einstein had dyslexia. And he was by no means stupid. So did Alexander Graham Bell. Thomas Edison. Nolan Ryan, famous baseball player. George Washington, for God’s sake. And Steven freaking Spielberg.”

  He leaned back in the chair. “No shit.”

  “Yes. And scores of others. Dyslexia challenges you, but it won’t defeat you. Not if you don’t let it.” She grasped his hand. “You’re smart, Trevor. You were never stupid. Ever.”

  He suddenly felt ashamed for hiding it all these years. “And I can help people—I can help kids—by talking about it.”

  She reached for his hand. “Yes. Definitely yes. Any time someone of your caliber talks about it, you help someone who—like you—is ashamed and not seeking help.”

  “Shit. I should have done something about this a long time ago.”

  She squeezed his hand. “I understand your fear. Your shame. Your father didn’t help the situation. And you thought you were like him.”

  “Trying to read—to comprehend—every time I tried it made me mad. And getting angry and frustrated scared me, because it made me remember my dad. So I just backed away from it. I ran away from it. I’ve been in denial all these years, pretending it didn’t exist. I hired people I trusted who would keep my secret, refusing to talk about. If I didn’t talk about it, I didn’t have to acknowledge it existed.”

  “It does exist. What you do about it now is up to you. I will never tell anyone about this. You can trust me.”

  It was time to push the fear and shame into the past. He was tired of hiding. “How do I get help? Will you help me?”

  “I will help you, but I know scores of professionals who would do a much better job. Let me recommend some people to you, both here and in St. Louis. They’re very trustworthy, and will take it slow and work at your own pace.”

  He had to trust Haven. He did trust Haven. He needed her. “Yeah. Recommend some people to me.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No. Thank you. For coming back here. I didn’t deserve it after the way I treated you. I’m sorry, Haven. I acted like an asshole and I’m asking you to forgive me for that.”

  She came over and sat on his lap, and he’d never felt such warmth, such love. Such forgiveness and acceptance. “There’s nothing to forgive, Trevor. Now I understand what you were going through. I backed you into a corner and for that, I’m sorry.”

  “You made me face something I should have faced a long time ago. I’m grateful. And I should never have asked you to leave. You don’t ask someone you love to walk out of your life.”

  Haven lifted her head and stared into Trevor’s eyes, not sure she’d heard what he said correctly.

  “What did you say?”

  His lips curved. “I said I love you. Want me to say it again?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “I love you, Haven.”

  She smiled, and her heart swelled with so much emotion she felt like she might burst. “I love you, too, Trevor.”

  He swept his hand up and down her back. “I like the sound of that. Now you say it again.”

  “I love you, Trevor.”

  “We should probably seal this with some kind of kiss.”

  She nodded. “Followed by some equally hot lovemaking, I hope.”

  “Definitely.”

  Trevor stood and pulled her against him, cupping the back of her neck and dragging her lips to his for a kiss that definitely left his intentions clear. From the very first time their lips met, she’d known he was it for her. Maybe she hadn’t realized it at first, because that initial spark of chemistry had distracted her, but now she realized it was more than simply biology that had drawn her to Trevor.

  It was love—two people who were supposed to be together. They just . . . fit.

  Especially when they kissed, when his mouth explored hers and exploded her brain cells left and right, making her sag against him until all she wanted was to tear every inch of clothing off to feel his skin against hers. There was something about this man that demanded she be close to him, touching him. She’d never been a big believer in that whole destiny thing, but he was it for her.

  So when he broke the kiss and took her hand to lead her upstairs to his room, she followed along, taking in the sight of his very fine ass moving up the stairs.

  And when they got there, it was her who pushed him onto the bed. She climbed on top of him and continued where they left off. She couldn’t get enough of his mouth, the sexy fullness of his bottom lip, the slight scratchiness of his jaw when it was peppered with a day’s growth of stubble. She straightened only long enough to pull off her top and undo her bra, then bent down to slide one of her nipples in between his waiting lips. And when he sucked, she was in heaven, a delight of sensation to feel him pull and tug on the bud until she wanted more.

  Apparently, so did Trevor, because he rolled her off him and drew her pants and underwear off, then spread her legs and buried his face in her sex, his tongue and mouth doing decadent, delicious things to her pussy. She grabbed hold of the cover and held on while he took her right to the edge.

  And over. She cried out with her orgasm, but barely had time to draw in a ragged breath before Trevor got undressed and put a condom on.

  She was still pulsing, still reeling from her climax when he slid inside her, his face looming over hers.

  “We’re supposed to be together. I missed you when you were gone. I’m sorry I sent you away.”

  He said this as he pulled out, then eased back inside her.

  She wrapped her legs around him. “You’re forgiven.” She swept her fingers over his brow, his temple, then his lips. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too. Feel free to say those words as many times as you want.”

  His lips curved. “Yeah, you, too.”

  Then he kissed her, and nothing else was said as he made love to her with a depth of passion that was filled with a new emotion. It was as if both of them had shed the walls they’d erected to protect their hearts. And as he moved within her, she knew without a doubt this was the man she was meant to be with, that he’d protect her, and she’d protect him.

  He swept his hand under her buttocks and lifted her hips, grinding against her as he buried himself deep.

  “Trevor.” She whispered his name, and her pussy quivered around him, tightening as she came close to orgasm.

  “I want to feel your pussy squeeze my cock. Make me come, Haven.”

  She loved the gritty sound of his voice when he was deep in the throes of passion. And the way he slid against her, rubbing her clit as he thrust in and out, was her undoing. She shattered, dragging her nails along his shoulders as she came. Trevor took her mouth in a hard, passionate kiss, taking in her cries and mixing his own groans in there as he released with a shudder.

  They were glued together by perspiration and clasped arms and
legs. Haven was in no hurry to move. Trevor rolled to his side, taking Haven with him. They stayed like that, stroking each other’s bodies for a while until he disengaged and left for only a few seconds. When he came back, he pulled her against him and tangled his fingers in her hair, kissed her deeply, and tucked her close.

  “Are you staying for a while?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “When do you have to be back in New York?”

  “After I finish my interview with you.”

  He looked into her eyes. “I’d like to include the dyslexia thing in your interview.”

  She drew back. “You want me to break it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Trevor. Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure. I trust you’ll do it right.”

  She laid her palm over his heart. “I will do it right. And I’ll get those recommendations for you starting tomorrow.”

  “I’ll get started on it tomorrow. And I’ll go to the literacy center and talk to them as well.”

  She laid her head on his chest. “I believe in you, Trevor. I always have.”

  “That’s what’ll get me through this.”

  She closed her eyes, listening to the sound of his heartbeat.

  Together. They’d get through anything together.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  TREVOR WALKED OFF THE FIELD, A MUDDY, VICTORIOUS mess. It had rained almost nonstop through the entire game against Green Bay. He didn’t know when he’d had more fun. He’d caught two passes for touchdowns, and had over a hundred yards in the game.

  More importantly, they’d won, and that’s what counted the most, especially since the Hawks were on top of their division. He wanted them to stay there, which meant playing well every week. Right now they were firing on all cylinders.

  Professionally, things were going well.

  Personally, things were going even better. In the past two months, he’d been working with a specialist in learning disabilities who’d been patient in diagnosing his dyslexia and teaching him to read, plus work on his frustration issues when things didn’t go his way. Denise Lancaster was formidable and no bullshit, and she didn’t fall for his charm. She made him work and work hard. For someone nearly sixty and barely five feet tall, she was one scary woman.