Page 101 of A Stealthy Situation
“Well, it’s next month, and it’s the only time I fly home during the year, and you’ll probably also be going home, but … well …”
A sly grin spreads across my face. “You want to spend it with me.”
“I know it’s a long shot, and maybe not the actual day if we can’t swing it, but something would be cool. Even if we just celebrate before we both leave. Or you … fly to Florida, maybe?”
I blink. “You want me to meet your family?”
“It will happen eventually, right? So why not?”
“Why not?” I’m sure my face is blank because I’m fucking stunned. Harrison tells me he’s serious all the time, he tells me he’s not going anywhere, but that doesn’t mean I believe him. Not all the way deep down. This though … it’s serious. It’s more commitment than I would have expected, but then I look into his earnest eyes and feel my heart do that squishy thing it does around him.
“If it’s too soon?—”
“It’s not.” I sound like a fucking fool with how fast that comes out. So much for playing it cool. “Christmas Day, I have to be with my family, but … what if you come home with me? Then fly out Christmas Eve to head home, and I’ll meet you there the day after? Would … would that work?”
His sweet, brown eyes are wide as he nods. “It’s kind of perfect. You’d be okay with that?”
“Very. Besides, my family aren’t going to believe that someone likes me enough to put up with me unless I have you there for proof.”
He pinches my chin gently. “I’m not sure even having me there is enough to prove that to them.”
“Dick.” I slap his hand away but press a quick kiss to his lips anyway.
Harrison is so damn incredible he makes me sick sometimes. Insults as a love language?
Marry me already.
“How are you feeling?” Em mutters from where he’s sitting next to me. It’s going to be a long-ass day being head shrunk, and he wanted to be the one to drop me off and sit with me while I waited. As much as I would have loved Harrison to be here, I’m glad it’s Em.
“Like I’m about to have to talk to people about this shit.”
“That is why you’re here.”
I glance over at him. “Sure you don’t want to come in?”
Em raises his hands to ward me off. “This is all you.”
“It’s just … embarrassing, you know?” I hate constantly going over this, but I can’t get past it. I know what people will think, and it fucking sucks. “Rhys was probably born understanding more about math than I ever will.”
During the two weeks I spent waiting for this appointment, I’ve given Google a workout. All it took was typing in problems with math to stumble across dyscalculia and match just about every fucking symptom like it was a checkbox exercise. I didn’t realize that it wasn’t only numbers that I was struggling with—directions have never been my strength, and when Coach would shout things like “Take it up the left,” I’d have to check which way everyone else was going before I’d know what he meant. No wonder I had a reputation for going rogue.
Near, far, soon, later—those words mean absolutely nothing to me.
My sensitivity to the criticisms that Em and I wouldn’t be as good if we were split up was valid because they were right. I looked to him way too many times, and I hadn’t even realized I was doing it.
I’m so confident that’s what’s going on with me that if these guys come back to me and say everything’s fine, I’ll start questioning their degrees.
“We really fucked ourselves, didn’t we?” Em asks.
I glance over at him, hazel eyes heavy with guilt under my Franklin U cap. “We didn’t know.”
“Yeah, but if I hadn’t been covering for you all these years, it probably would have been picked up when we were kids. You might have gotten help and been able to?—”
“No maybes.” I’m firm about that. “I’m sure it would have been picked up sooner, but it’s just something I’m going to have to live with. It wasn’t your fault, Em. I never talked to you about any of it.”
“But I knew you were struggling, and I thought I was helping. Making things easier for you.”
“Yeah, but by the same reasoning, we could say similar about you. Your English skills are shit.”
