by Lea Coll
“I hope so.” I wanted to believe I could stand in front of a room of people, saying the right thing, except I’d screwed up in the past.
We walked to the exit to the player’s vehicles. “Care to explain what that was today with Dylan? And don’t say you invited them because of the team’s partnership with Kids Speak. You never would have done that in the past.”
“It was nothing.” The words rang hollow because I felt excitement, anticipation, desire for her.
Callie rolled her eyes. “Dylan asked me to arrange dinner last night, then you asked me for game tickets. You insisted I buy Dylan your jersey. Are you sure you know what you're doing?”
“Maybe it was impulsive. She’d never been to a game. I offered. She was excited about it.”
Callie’s face was pensive.
“You think she’s using me?”
“Not exactly. She needs the team for her nonprofit. She’s fixated on you. I don’t know if we can trust her. We’ll have to see.”
I thought back to our blind date, how she spoke animatedly about her job. She was passionate about her cause. Last night there was a connection, a desire for more. “I think she’s okay.”
“I hope so.” When we reached Callie’s car, she squeezed my arm once before releasing it.
On the way home, I tried to focus on Callie’s worries for me, instead of how good Dylan looked in my jersey. Unfortunately, a vision of Dylan in nothing but my jersey slipped through. I was a goner.
I’d lift her onto my kitchen counter, spreading her legs to stand between them. My hands braced on her bare thighs, then they’d glide under the jersey. She was naked underneath, I’d suck her nipple through the jersey until it was a hard, then slide a finger between her folds to see how wet she was for me. I adjusted my cock in my pants before getting out of my car.
I slammed my door a little too loudly, walking quicker than usual to the elevator. The desire to grip my cock was strong. It was all I could think about. I wanted Dylan Gannon, in and out of the bedroom.
I enjoyed her company even though she was dangerous. The more time I spent with her the more likely she’d figure out my secret. No matter how sweet and understanding she seemed, I couldn’t be sure of her reaction.
I opened the door to my apartment, sliding off my shoes, placing my keys in the dish.
If Dylan found out, would she be supportive or would she mock me like my father? Dylan seemed like a genuine person. She was in charge of a speech impairment program. It was possible she’d be understanding about it. What if she thought it would be a reason for me to be the spokesperson, like Callie did? I didn’t want her exploiting my impairment to promote her nonprofit.
How could you be certain someone wanted you for you, not what you could do for them?
It was the question all of the guys ran into at one time or another. Some didn’t realize their mistake until they were already married with kids. Others didn’t care, screwing whoever offered. I wasn’t them. I wanted to be sure of any person I invited into my life.
I didn’t want to trust her then have that trust blow up in my face.
Chapter Fifteen
DYLAN
A couple of weeks after the football game I attended with Hadley, Kids Speak started officially in the elementary schools. I’d never been more nervous for anything in my life. Not the bar exam. Not my first interview. Not opening the law firm.
A small part of my nerves was that Reid, Jonah, and Chase would be volunteering with various students.
A warm feeling settled in my chest when I kissed Reid’s cheek. It deepened when he’d taken care of us at the football game. It lingered, swirling in my chest. Every nerve tingled with anticipation to see him today. We’d been to dinner twice. Each time felt more real than the last. I wanted him. I just hoped it wouldn’t complicate our arrangement.
I focused on handing out the welcome packets on the tables. The bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. Kids would be filtering in at any moment.
“Do you need us?” Reid’s voice washed over me, waking up every nerve ending in my body.
I turned to face him, handsome in a team polo-shirt and khakis, thoughts of him dropping to his knees in front of me at his word need.
“Lena wanted us more casual today.” Jonah winked at me before surveying the room.
The three guys stood in front of me. I should have felt dwarfed in their presence. Instead, I felt overwhelmed by only one, Reid.
“You look great.” My voice cracked, my throat dry. How were we supposed to greet each other? Was I supposed to hug or kiss him on the cheek? I dismissed those ideas as unprofessional, especially in front of Jonah and Chase. I felt stiff, awkward compared to how I’d felt after dinner on Saturday night when I was relaxed, happy to be in his presence.
The assistant principal came over, introducing himself to Jonah and Chase.
Reid smiled, stepping closer to me, his shoulders loose, looking more relaxed than I felt.
He placed his hands on my shoulder, leaning close, to whisper in my ear. “It’s going to be awesome. Don’t be—.”
Was he going to say worried, nervous? My heart jumped erratically in my chest.
Then he brushed his lips across my cheek, easing away from me, as if he hadn’t just shocked the nerves out of my system, awareness seeping through me. I was conscious of him, his proximity, the smell of his cologne, the impression of his lips on my cheek.
“I’m not nervous.” Filling in the word he hadn’t said. My voice sounded breathless, giving away how he affected me.
He squeezed my shoulder before repeating, “Tell me what we should do.”
“Why don’t you guys hang out until the kids come in. I’ll get them set up with a therapist. You can walk around, giving encouragement. If one of the kids wants to engage with you, you can sit to talk to him or her.”
“Sounds good.”
I shook any sexy thoughts of Reid out of my head so I could focus on the reason we were here.
A couple of kids walked into the room, looking uncertain. I walked toward them to get their names, marking them present on my clipboard. I introduced myself, guiding them to a therapist, before taking a step back. Once things were set up, I wouldn’t be at each location unless there was a problem. There would be aids. I’d be a phone call away.
I couldn’t believe it was happening. I was the one laying the groundwork, hiring the employees. I was optimistic things could run without me present even though I’d never done this before. I didn’t want to let Hadley down.
I’d been successful in holding Lena off from a formal announcement until things were in place. I wanted the focus on getting the program running before adding in more pressure. I’d also asked because Reid was so adamant that he didn’t want to take part in the announcement. I hoped I could convince him otherwise.
Reid’s hand landed on my shoulder, the warmth of his chest indicating he stood close behind me. I shivered, his breath on my ear. “I’d wish you good luck, but you don’t need it.”
I swallowed before nodding, my throat tight.
I turned to him. His eyes were soft. Based on our first meeting, I thought he’d fight me, refusing to show up, but he was here.
Another student walked in then, so I moved to greet him, relieved to have some space from Reid. The more I thought about what it would be like to be near Reid, the more I worried how I’d keep a level head.
He stood in the doorway, his gaze on the floor, a lunch bag clutched to his chest. I crouched in front of him, glad I’d worn pants. “Hey, are you here for speech?”
He nodded, not meeting my gaze.
“I’m so happy your here.” When it didn’t seem like he’d talk, I referred to my list of names. “Is it Quinton?”
He nodded again.
“Great. Let’s introduce you to Mrs. Sweeney so we can get started.”
Chapter Sixteen
REID
I noticed him immediately. The hesitancy in his steps, his reluctance to be here.
Dylan hadn’t hesitated to get down on his level, welcoming him. While I observed the other students in the room, my attention kept returning to him. He seemed to be listening to his therapist but not responding.
I wondered if that’s how I would have been had I saw a therapist at school. Would I have been too embarrassed to speak in front of someone after my father’s harsh words? Had this child experienced something similar?
The thought had me moving in his direction. Seeing his name tag on his shirt, I took a deep breath, rehearsing my name in my head so I would get it mostly right. “Quinton, I’m Reid. Is it okay if I sit next to you?”
I breathed a sigh of relief that I’d said my name correctly. It was something I had to practice until I could say it with confidence. I couldn’t avoid saying my name, not without sounding like an idiot.
The boy remained silent, his shoulders tense.
I wanted to help. I wanted to reach out to him. I didn’t want to tell him I suspected how he was feeling. I looked around, seeing the other children working with their respective therapists. Quinton was the only one who seemed reluctant.
“Do you think we could have a moment?” I asked Mrs. Sweeney.
Mrs. Sweeney offered me a grateful smile. “Sure. I’ll get something to drink.”
What could I say that would make him more comfortable? An assurance of why we were here, some way to take the pressure off of him, his performance? Was he shy or had someone said something derogatory about his speech? “Mrs. Sweeney wants to help you.”
“I know.” His voice was so soft I almost couldn’t hear him.
My heart twisted at the conflict I remembered from my childhood. Desperately wanting to talk, afraid to ask for help when we were continually told I didn’t qualify for any. I was different enough to attract bullies like my father, some in school, not enough to justify services.
It would be good to validate his feelings. “This is difficult. I’ll stick by you.”
He didn’t acknowledge my words.
“No one will judge you.”
Silent, he didn’t move or look at me. Maybe if I told him I was the same. I didn’t want him to struggle to speak, embarrassed he wasn’t able to say certain words. I wanted him to get help now.
I looked around, making sure the other pairs of therapists and children weren’t paying attention. Chase was throwing a basketball with a little girl at a hoop hanging over the door. Jonah sat at a table, legs spread wide, the teacher laughing at whatever he was saying. Dylan’s head was bowed over her laptop at a different table.
I shifted closer to him. “I can sympathize with you. I have difficulty talking sometimes too.”
He looked up, his brows raised. “You do?”
“Yeah, I can’t say my—” Even with a child it was hard to be myself, let someone see my weakness. I had to if I wanted him to open up. “R’s. It’s ironic my name starts with an r.”
I tried not to wince at the way my r sounded like a w. I didn’t want him to know I was still ashamed or insinuate that he should be.
His eyes widened further as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Were you scared when you did this?”
“I never got to do this.”
“Never?” His gaze was focused on me.
“No. I didn’t get this opportunity. I wasn’t identified as someone who needed help.”
“Why not?”
I decided to use words with r’s so he understood. “Like you, I didn’t qualify even though I struggled to say my letters. There was no program like this. I avoided saying my r’s. I got good at it over the years but I still slip up.”
“If you had lessons like this,” he gestured at the table, “you’d be able to say it right?”
“Most likely. Mrs. Sweeny is going to help you so that you don’t have to worry anymore.”
I didn’t want to point out that if he was talking differently, eventually mean kids would point it out, pick on him. I didn’t want that for him.
“Really?”
“Yeah, you can trust her. If you want, I can stay with you while you do your lesson. If you’d feel more comfortable, I can leave. It’s up to you.”
He was quiet for a few seconds, his gaze traveling around the room, the other children engaged with their therapists. Finally, he said, “I’d like you to stay.”
I sighed, not realizing until he’d conceded how much his answer mattered to me. “You’re very brave.”
I motioned for his therapist to come back over.
Mrs. Sweeney returned. “Are we ready to get started?”
I smiled encouragingly at Quinton.
Mrs. Sweeney went through a series of tests, probably to see where he needed help. When we were done, Mrs. Sweeney told him she’d see him next week.
“Good job, buddy. I knew you could do it.”
“Will you be here next time?” Quinton asked me.
I hadn’t wanted to be involved at all. Now he tugged on every one of my emotions. He’d reminded me of what I went through as a child, the struggle, the embarrassment, the shame. I didn’t want that for him.
“When will he have lessons?” I asked Mrs. Sweeney.
“Every Monday at the same time.”
“I can do that.” I’d make sure I was available. I’d talk to Coach. If I had to, I’d tell him why helping this boy was so important to me. Hopefully, he’d understand how important this was to me.
Quinton nodded, a small smile on his lips.
Satisfaction tore through me. For the first time in my life, I’d been honest to someone about my impairment. I was happy that my experience had helped someone else.
When Quinton left, Mrs. Sweeney gathered her things. “Thanks. You really brought him out of his shell.”
“Happy to help.” I tensed, hoping she didn’t ask what it was that I’d said.
Walking over to Dylan, she looked up at me, smiling. “Hey.”
“Did Jonah and Chase leave?”
“Yeah, they said they had another event to attend and didn’t want to interrupt your session.”
I was glad they were gone because I wanted to talk to Dylan alone.
Dylan stood, placing her laptop in her bag. “How did it go?”
“Good. He was hesitant initially.” I was practically bursting with pride, wanting to share my success with her. As usual, fear of discovery held me back. I wasn’t sure I could trust her even though I wanted to.
She placed the strap of her bag onto her shoulder. “Did you say something that helped? I noticed you talked to him for a moment by yourself.”
There was nothing conniving or manipulative on her face, only genuine curiosity. “I told him I’d stay with him.”
A soft smile spread over her face. “Good. I’m so happy your presence made a difference.”
I felt a little guilty I hadn’t told her the whole truth. I wasn’t ready for that. “I told him I’d come to his weekly lessons.”
Her eyes widened. “That’s not necessary. I know your schedule changes—”
“I will, if it doesn’t conflict with my schedule.”
“I know you didn’t want to do this.” She paused as if gathering her thoughts. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to be here every week or work with the same child or anything like that.”
“I don’t feel like I have to. I want to.” I had a connection with Quinton. Something in his reluctance to seek help reminded me of myself. I was willing to help others. Being there for Quinton felt like something I had to do, as if helping him would somehow heal the wounds from my childhood. It was ridiculous because I’d never forgotten my father’s hateful words.
Dylan’s expression was admiring, proud even. “Good. I’m glad you enjoyed it. I think it’s great you’re connecting with one of the children.”
“I did.” That’s what this feeling was, joy at helping someone, satisfaction at connecting with him on something I’d never been able to share with anyone else.
“Thank you for coming.”
I wasn’t ready to leave yet. I wanted to talk to her, share my feelings with her. I couldn’t without revealing everything. “Thank you for pushing me to do this.”
“I wouldn’t say I pushed you, more like suggested it was a good idea.” She sounded a little defensive as if she didn’t like my characterization of what happened between us.
I didn’t like it either. She saw something in me, even on our blind date. It was like she could see through me, my fears, my desires, the reason I hid from the world. I had this overwhelming desire to tell her everything, to let her in, but it wasn’t the time or place.
“Can I walk you out?” I asked, wanting to ride on the high of this afternoon. I’d helped Quinton, made Dylan proud. I wasn’t by myself anymore. My actions affected others. I could make a difference. I was starting to see why Dylan was so passionate about their work.
“Let me check in with the therapists, then I can go.”
“Great.” I waited while she spoke with each therapist going over each case and the schedule before thanking them. She was courteous, professional, and caring. She wasn’t in this to give her firm a good name, she truly wanted it to be a success.
When she was done, she stood in front of me. “Are you ready?”
I paused, her question seemingly asking more than the obligatory are you ready to go. It was as if she was asking if I was ready to be transparent. Was I ready to be the man I’d been hiding all these years? “I am.”
The declaration washed over me, making me shaky with nerves.
“Did you want to eat?” I wasn’t ready to tell her everything. I wanted to tell her something. Give her insight into me, why I was reluctant to talk to the media, why I was so closed off.
“I can’t tonight.” She looked flustered.
Disappointment coursed through me.
“Is it a guy?” I’d assumed she didn’t have one because she hadn’t invited a boyfriend to my game when I offered her my tickets. Maybe I’d been too presumptuous.
“No. I have a case to prep for trial.” She looked up at me as if surprised I’d even asked that question.