Page 82 of Mine to Take

It only reinforces my hunch.

If he’s anything like River, it’s a sensitive topic.

My brother struggled all through elementary school before finally being diagnosed in fourth grade. By then, the damage had been done and he hated school. He was often made to feel like he wasn’t as smart as his peers. When he would get frustrated, he’d end up acting out and causing problems for his teachers. Or he’d get into fights with other students.

There were times when I wondered if River would have the grades to get into college. He worked with a tutor all through high school and managed to turn things around for himself.

I’m proud of him for that.

His path to playing hockey at East Town wasn’t easy.

How ironic is it that the more I get to know Maverick, the more I realize how much he and River have in common. If they weren’t constantly pitted against one another, they could have been friends.

It’s not always easy to find people who have walked a similar path and understand the challenges you’ve faced.

“Is it total trash? Just don’t tell me that I have to start from scratch, because this paper is due in two days and there’s no way in hell I’ll be able to get it done.”

I force a smile, wanting to alleviate the strain woven through his deep voice. Before I realize it, my hand drifts to his bare arm where he’s shoved up the sleeves of his sweatshirt.

His attention drops to the place where we’re now connected.

Heat stings my cheeks when I realize what I’ve done.

Which is kind of comical, because we’ve been far more intimate than me touching his arm in a public space and offering support. Although, this is the first time I’ve initiated physical contact.

The moment I try to remove my fingers, his other hand settles over mine, locking it in place.

My gaze collides with his before becoming ensnared in his dark depths. That’s all it takes for my mouth to turn bone dry, making speech impossible.

“I like when you touch me.”

The gravel in his voice settles at the bottom of my belly like a heavy stone.

Truth be told, I like touching him too, but I’m not about to admit that. I get the feeling if I give him an inch, he’ll take a mile.

“You don’t have to redo it. There’s a lot here for us to work with,” I reassure.

His muscles gradually loosen and his brows rise. “You think so?”

A mixture of hope and surprise rings throughout those three little words.

My lips lift into more of a smile as his fingers stay locked around mine. “Yeah. We just need to give it a little more organization, add a few more supporting statements, and clean up some of the grammar and sentence structure. It’ll take some work, but it’s much easier than starting over. And two days is plenty of time to make adjustments.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” he says with a nod.

“I promise it won’t be. Here’s the caveat—I’m more than willing to point out areas that can be improved and give suggestions, but I’m not going to rewrite the paper for you.” I don’t necessarily want to bring up his possible disability, but it would help to know exactly what I’m dealing with. “I spent a lot of time in high school helping my brother with his homework.” I force out the rest. “Your paper reminds me of his.”

He stills as his grip tightens around mine. “Oh?”

“He has dyslexia and really struggled with it. Especially before he was diagnosed…” Unsure what else to say, my voice trails off.

I know I’ve hit the mark when color seeps into his cheeks and he glances away.

My heart twists as I scoot closer. “I’m not trying to embarrass you. It’s just…it’ll be easier for us to work together if I understand what the issue is.”

His gaze settles on mine as he releases a pent-up breath. “Yeah, I have dyslexia. My parents realized what was going on right away because my dad also has it. So, I had early intervention.”

“I’m sure that helped. My parents were reluctant to believe that there was anything wrong with my brother.”

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