Page 67 of Hate to Love You

“It is,” he says. His voice is low and scratchy. Full of emotion. “I appreciate it.”

I suck in a breath and force it out again. The question tumbles out of my mouth before I can stop it. “Is memorization an issue?”

Silence stretches between us. It seems like forever before he says, “I have dyslexia. Pretty much everything school-related is an issue for me.”

“Oh.” Once again, I feel like Brody has thrown me for a loop. I’ve spent three years in class with him and it never occurred to me that he might struggle academically. Now that I think about it, the signs were there. But for some reason, I assumed the worst about him from the beginning. “I didn’t know,” I say stupidly.

He shrugs like it’s not a big deal, but I can tell it is. It’s there in the stiff set of his shoulders. The way he refuses to hold my gaze for more than a moment or two. The tension radiating off him in thick, heavy waves is another indicator that I’ve unearthed something raw and painful.

Our hands are still clasped. I shift mine around until I’m the one holding him. I want to offer comfort, but I’m not sure how and that makes me feel helpless.

“My professors know, and for the most part, they’ve been great about making accommodations. They give me notes prior to class so I can focus on the lecture. Instead of taking written exams, sometimes I can take an oral one. I do better when I don’t have to read long sections and answer questions. That’s always been a killer for me. I also buy large-print books because it helps make reading easier.”

I shake my head in wonder. I would have never suspected.

“Look,” he says gruffly. “I’ve been dealing with this for a long time. I’ve figured out strategies to help myself.”

“Is there anything I can do?” God, I feel like such an asshole right now.

“Actually, the cards are great. My handwriting is pretty messy, so these will make it easier.”

“I can make cards for your other classes, too,” I say quickly. “It’s not a problem.”

He nods. “Quizzing me verbally on the information helps as well.”

A piece of the puzzle slides into place. “Is this the reason you didn’t want to work with a tutor?”

A look of guilt flashes across his face before he pulls his gaze from mine. “I’ve managed to get through three years of college on my own. But we’re only a month into the semester and it’s already challenging. I’m struggling more than I have in the past.”

My heart feels like it’s being cracked wide open. I’ve never felt anything like it. “I’ll help you as much as I can.”

The corners of his lips lift. “Thanks. And I appreciate the cards.”

“You mentioned going over the information verbally. Is there anything else we can do?”

He takes a breath. “If we could discuss the concepts, especially in finance, so I have a better understanding of them, that would help a lot. I have a difficult time memorizing for the sake of memorizing. If I have a better working understanding of the ideas, then it’s easier for me to commit them to memory.”

“We can do that.” I make a mental note to do a little research on dyslexia. Maybe if I have a better understanding of Brody’s struggles, I can figure out other ways to support him.

“I appreciate your help, Davies.” His eyes drop as he shifts on the chair. “Do me a favor?”

“Anything.” And strangely enough, I mean it. I’d do just about anything he asked right now.

His whiskey-colored gaze pierces mine. “Don’t mention this to anyone, okay?”

“Is that what you think? That I’m going to blab this all over school?” It hurts that he feels the need to say that to me. “I would never do that to you.”

Some of the tension drains from his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I know you wouldn’t. It’s just…” He shrugs as if at a loss for words. “I’ve learned over the years to keep my guard up. Whitmore is a cesspool for gossip. I don’t want this getting out. It’s no one’s business but my own.”

“You have nothing to be embarrassed of. You’ve obviously found strategies that work for you.”

He nods. “Yeah, I have. But school has always been a struggle. I’ve had to work my ass off just to get B’s.” He cocks his head. “Do you have any idea how much it sucks to work that hard and not see a payoff?”

I’m ashamed to admit that I don’t. School has always come easy for me. I’ve never had to study very much. I’m blessed with a good memory.

“I spent a lot of years hating school, hating how difficult it felt, hating that everyone seemed to pick up stuff easier than me. They watched me struggle and thought I was lazy or stupid, or a troublemaker because I would get so frustrated and lash out.”

His words break my heart. Especially since I’m guilty of thinking the same. I’ve never felt so ashamed of myself as I do at this moment.

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