Page 18 of Someone to Have
“Ewww.” I pretend to gag which makes his grin widen. “Also, don’t call me Tinkerbell.”
There goes that brow lifting again. “I assume that’s what Tink is short for?”
“None of your beeswax.” Oh, gah. Did I just say beeswax out loud?
“You’re funny.” He inclines his head. “I didn’t expect that.”
The compliment is so basic as to be nearly backhanded, but my heart pinches a little anyway. Talk about a low bar.
“I didn’t expect you to not be an asshole.”
He looks amused rather than offended. “I get that a lot.” He leans closer. “Tinkerbell.”
“Seriously, stop.” I roll my eyes.
“Tell me why Toby and your dad call you Tink.”
“Why do you care?” There’s no way in hell I’m sharing the origin of my family nickname with him.
He frowns as if he’s thinking about his answer. “I’m not sure. But Tinkerbell fits you.”
“The freak it does.”
“Freak? Beeswax?” He chuckles low in his throat. “It’s also cute that you don’t swear.”
“I swear. The fact that I’m choosing not to isn’t cute. It’s…”
“Adorable?”
“Also, no.” My face is flaming by this point. “It’s just me being weird.”
“Says who?” he demands. “Bryan Connor, AP English tool?”
I push my plate away with a few bites of lasagna, most of the salad, and a half piece of bread still left. Eric immediately pulls it toward him and starts eating.
“You’re done, right?” he asks.
“Uh…yeah.” Why does it feel weirdly intimate for this man to be cleaning my plate?
“You said you wanted to talk,” I remind him. “About something besides practice.”
He puts down the fork and leans back in his chair. “I don’t know what Bryan Connor said to my nephew, but I do think I understand part of Rhett’s problem withBeowulf.”
“Other than it being a challenging poem and potentially excruciating to read twice?” I ask.
He nods. “There’s that, but I think Rhett might have problems reading.”
“Do you mean dyslexia?” I ask.
He gives a slight nod.
“I don’t have access to his school records,” I tell him. “But as his guardian, you should. Any prior assessments should be included there.”
“Not if it hasn’t been diagnosed.”
I stand up and grab both plates. “It should have been identified when he was in elementary school. Maybe even earlier, with some of the testing schools have access to now.”
“Should have,” he agrees, elbows on the table, fingers steepled before him. “That doesn’t mean it was.”
