Page 110 of Your Soul to Keep

I held myself stiffly as my breathing evened out.

His mouth moved in my hair. “I overreacted.”

“Where were you?” I bit out, my body rigid as my brain struggled to wake up. “What time is it?”

“Max,” he blurted. “I went to The Beaver Dam with Max. Had a couple of beers and double the amount of coffee then came home. It’s just after one.”

“You didn’t answer my text.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

My body settled against his, processing his words before my mind could catch up.

“I know I was wrong to push, but why did you react like that?” I asked softly then continued, my words coming faster as my anxiety increased. “That’s not how we handle things, Gabe. You can’t walk out. You can’t just leave. You can’t just—”

“I won’t.” He wrapped his arms around me. “I won’t do it again,” he soothed. “Next time I’ll talk it out with you. It wasn’t your fault.” He paused. “Max said you flipped a switch, and I reacted without thinking. Now that I know it’s there, I’ll be more mindful.”

My arms snaked up around his back. He was not the only one at fault. “I’m sorry you had such a bad day. And I am sorry for pushing. You asked me not to, and I should have respected that.”

He blew out a breath, his big chest deflating as some of the tension bled from his form. “It’s okay, Shae-baby. You didn’t even get to tell me what got you all excited.”

I hummed, not ready to delve into that. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

He stiffened and rolled away.

“Gabe?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he replied, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to plant his feet on the floor. “I had to go to the school to update all of Dylan’s records today for junior kindergarten next year.”

For a while he sat silently, then braced his elbows on his knees and dropped his head in his hands. “So many mistakes.”

“You were embarrassed?”

He huffed out a laugh. “Felt bigger than that.”

Shame.

I crawled across the bed and aligned my chest to his back, my legs wrapped around his hips, my hands locked together around his abs. “You know dyslexia isn’t something you should be ashamed of, right?”

He twisted his neck to meet my eyes, his mouth twisting sardonically. “You say that, and theoretically, everyone agrees, but in practice not so much.”

“Want to tell me?” I prodded softly.

He shrugged then covered my hands with one of his. “Teachers didn’t have patience or understanding back then.”

I nodded against his back.

“Even my father struggled to understand.”

He inhaled. “You’re told you’re careless and lazy often enough it eventually sinks in.” He laughed but it was not a happy sound. “More than half the time I didn’t even understand what I’d done wrong. Sometimes felt like I spent more time in detention than I did in class.

“It’s not much better in the big bad world of adulthood. Make a mistake at my work? Somebody could get hurt. Somebody could die, Shae.”

“I understand.”

His body tensed under my hands. “Do you? Do you Shae? Because I don’t want to keep having these conversations with you. I’m happy with my job. I don’t need the stress of wondering if I’ve screwed up so fucking colossally that somebody might get hurt or lose their life, that someone’s wife or child will grieve because I can’t read, not correctly, not consistently.”

“I hear you.”

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