“You can’t do it in the morning?”
He ate three more tacos, used his napkin again, and hesitated. He looked wary, then shook his head with a heavy sigh. “I couldn’t be ready in time.”
“I’m sorry?”
He drained his margarita glass, then reached for the water, downing a large amount. He studied me before he spoke, his voice quiet. “I have dyslexia, Cami. I don’t read very fast, and when the document isn’t in a certain format, it takes me longer to read and absorb the content. In fact, there are times I can’t read it because nothing makes sense. It’s as if the letters move as I try to read. That happened today. The lists Jed, one of the sellers, wrote out were like a foreign language to me. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t decipher the words.” He looked down, running his finger over the edge of his plate repeatedly. “I felt like shit, as if I were letting Bent and Mad Dog down.”
I was shocked at his revelation. He had never once told me anything personal about himself. I thought about the way he always bypassed a menu. How he didn’t keep score when we went bowling. The way he used a computer, studying the screen intently, mouthing things silently. It all made sense to me now. I swallowed before I replied. I didn’t want him to see how much his words affected me.
“I think you’re being too hard on yourself. I doubt they felt that way.”
“No, they never do. Bentley was awesome as usual. He said it was chicken scratch to him as well and he would have Sandy decipher it and type it up for me. I’ll study it tonight and have it memorized for tomorrow.”
“Sandy is good at deciphering chicken scratch?”
“Her father was a doctor, as well as her husband. So is her grandson. She insists she’s an ace at it.”
“Ah, that makes sense. Reading it after it’s typed helps you?”
He ate another taco, finishing off the platter. I still had two left of the four he had pushed on my plate, but I was much more interested in his story than eating.
“It does. There’s a font that seems to help me see the words clearer—why, I don’t know, but I discovered it in university, thanks to Maddox. He and Bentley knew about my dyslexia and some of my coping mechanisms. He wanted to help and asked me if I was willing to let him try.”
“You agreed, I take it.”
“I trusted him. He explained how adding a row of numbers is harder if they aren’t lined up in a similar fashion, and he wondered if a different font and spacing might help me, given some of my other preferences. It took us a while, but he was right. It’s not perfect and I still struggle, but it helps.”
“He’s a good friend.”
“They both are. He and Bentley formatted all my documents during university to help. They went with me to talk to my professors about what I needed. After, Bentley made sure every document in the office used that font and all the documents are formatted the same way. Plans, contracts, emails—everything. He does everything he can to make it easier on me. He even requests paperwork from clients and other people to be sent using that font. If not, Sandy redoes them for me.” He was quiet for a moment, then cleared his throat. “I was embarrassed at first, but he has never judged me, not once, and I appreciate his efforts.”
I resolved to hug Bentley a little harder the next time I saw him. My already good opinion of him grew immensely.
“You said something about memorizing?”
He raked a hand through his hair. “I have no idea why I’m telling you this.”
“Please don’t stop.”
“When I was younger, I developed some sort of trick, I suppose you could call it, that I use now more than ever. Most of the documents we use have the same wording. I find words that I know and can recognize, and I can figure out the rest of the page. Once I do, it’s locked in.” He tapped his head. “If there are changes, I can tell by finding my key words. I look for what is new or missing, rather than having to relearn the whole document. Once I read it, I can recall the entire thing. The same with conversations. I concentrate in a different manner from other people, and I can remember details most would forget. Bentley and Maddox know I can do these things, and they rely on me.”
“That must feel good.”
He lifted his shoulder, self-conscious. “Are you going to eat those last tacos?”
I pushed my plate toward him. “No. They’re yours.”
“You didn’t eat much. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m good.”
I was fascinated watching him eat. He dove in, chewing fast, yet he wasn’t rude or messy. His table manners were impeccable, but he still ate quickly, almost defensively, as if someone were going to take his food away. I had a feeling he ate that way for a reason and I was dying to ask, but I was afraid he would stop talking altogether, so I kept my mouth shut.
“Is it the same for everyone with dyslexia?”
“No. There are many forms, and it affects people differently. My case isn’t as bad as some are, and I was able to bluff my way through school for a long time. I still do that when I have to, but I don’t like it.” He sighed. “I envy people who love to read. It’s such a chore for me.”
“Do you listen to audiobooks?”
“Yes. I enjoy hearing someone read out loud. It’s also a learning tool for me when I can follow along with the book.”
I made a mental note of that, then pressed on.
“So you’ll read the lists when you get home?”
“Yes. I want to be prepared for tomorrow. Bentley doesn’t want to wait on this and take a chance someone else will get wind of the land going up for sale.”
“It’s that great an opportunity?”
“The property is awesome.” He pulled out his phone and swiped the screen. “Look at those views.”
I went through the photos. “Those are breathtaking.”
“Makes me want to buy the land myself and build a place.” He chuckled.
The image of him on a porch, a beer in hand, as he stared out over the water came into my head. The fact that I was beside him resting my head on his shoulder and enjoying the view brought me up short. Neither was going to happen. I had to stop fooling myself.
Forcing a grin, I handed back his phone. “Are you sure I can be trusted with this information? Maybe I’ll run and scoop you. Break in to my piggy bank for the down payment.”
He laughed, his head thrown back and his shoulders shaking. “I think you’re a safe bet.” His face became serious. “If I didn’t trust you I wouldn’t have told you about my dyslexia, Cami. It’s rare I talk about it to anyone.”
I met his gaze. It was honest and open, although still wary. As if he were worried I would judge him.
“I think you’ve overcome something in an amazing fashion, Aiden. You’ve taken a challenge and learned to use it to your advantage. That’s to be praised, not hidden.”
“It’s personal.”
“It must have been difficult growing up. Was your family helpful?”
His face changed to a blank expression. His gaze dropped and his body stiffened. He spoke one word, the tone of his voice cold and distant. “No.”
He stood. “I’ll pay the bill. It’s time to go.”
He strode away without another word or glance, leaving me in shock.
I guessed our conversation was over.
* * *
I was tired and sore the next morning. It was still raining, the dreary clouds matching my somber mood.
Aiden had been quiet and tense as he drove me home, although he’d walked me to my door and made sure I got inside.
I turned to him before opening the door, laying my hand on his arm.
“Aiden, I’m sorry if I overstepped. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
He looked at my hand, then shook his head. “I just… I don’t talk about it, okay?”
“Okay.”
He surprised me by pressing a kiss to my forehead, then turning and walking to his car.
He had never done that before tonight.
I had barely slept all night, tossing and turning. Dee was up and out of the apartment early, and I spent some time researching dyslexia. I had no idea how many people it touched, the varying degrees of severity, and how it affected everyone in such a different manner. My admiration for Aiden only grew with the way he handled it and himself. The main thing that bothered me was how ashamed he felt, as if he believed that somehow it was his fault.
Once at school, I yanked open my locker door, pulling out notebooks and sketchpads, grumbling to myself. I had hoped my umbrella was there. I’d searched everywhere at home and texted Emmy to see if I had left it at her place, but she said no. Dee didn’t have it, so I hoped it was in my locker. I loved that umbrella. I had bought it at a one-of-a-kind craft fair, and I adored the brilliant pattern of irises, my favorite flower, that exploded when I opened it. It was double-sided, so I saw the flowers inside as well. It felt as if I were walking in a garden as it poured all around me. I racked my brain, the sinking feeling I had of leaving it on a bus or subway by accident settling into my chest. I wiped a hand on my shirt, feeling the damp of my skin. The rain wasn’t letting up anytime soon. Luckily, Emmy and Bent had picked me up not long after I’d left the apartment, saving me from being completely drenched. I sighed, realizing I would have to buy another umbrella, although it wouldn’t help today. I’d get a cheap one in Chinatown on the weekend.
“Hey, Cami!”
I turned, fixing a smile on my face at one of my fellow students. “Hi, Louisa.”
“Miserable day out, eh?”
I pushed the damp hair away from my forehead, remembering the feel of Aiden’s lips as they brushed along my skin. I hoped he was all right this morning. I wished I could check on him, but I knew he would either ignore me or get annoyed by my concern and be brusque if he responded.
Louisa was staring me expectantly.
“Oh yeah, ugly day.”
“You should have an umbrella.”
I wanted to snort at her words, but I only shrugged. I had learned Louisa didn’t have much of a sense of humor. We were in a class project group together, and I’d discovered she had a habit of pouting when she didn’t get her way and was often passive-aggressive. She barely spoke during discussions, but then she would email everyone with long, detailed explanations of why she didn’t like something we had discussed or planned. I assumed she was shy and felt more comfortable addressing her thoughts via email, but it got a little annoying.
Still, she seemed like a kind, somewhat lonely person, and I did my best to be friendly, although she didn’t make it easy at times. She sought me out, no matter how often I tried to dissuade her without being rude.
“I guess I lost it.”
She dug into her bag and handed me a small umbrella. “Use this one.”
“What about you?”
“I have another one.”
“Thank you,” I said sincerely. “I appreciate it.” I turned, sliding the umbrella into my locker for later. My keys fell out of my locker, and before I could move, Louisa bent over and picked them up. My keychain glittered in the light, the leather and crystals spelling out my name.
“That’s pretty.”
I smiled in acknowledgment. “Emmy made it for me.”
Her smile fell, and she shoved the keys into my hand, tugging her book bag higher on her shoulder.
“She’s like your best friend or something?”
“She is my best friend.”
“Oh.” She scowled, glancing down.
Perplexed, I went back to digging in my locker, looking for a set of pencils I wanted. I shoved things around, finally locating them. I shut the door and turned to see Louisa staring at me hopefully. Obviously, she was waiting for an answer to something, and I had missed her question.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I asked if you would have coffee with me tomorrow?”
“I’m swamped,” I stated, stalling. I didn’t want to have coffee with Louisa. We didn’t have enough in common to be friends the way I thought she wanted to be.
“You kind of owe me,” she replied, her voice terse. She cleared her throat. “I mean, it’s just coffee, right?”
“I owe you?”
“You said you’d come to my birthday party, and you never showed. You said you’d make it up to me.”
I passed a weary hand over my face. Her birthday party had been when Emmy was kidnapped. I’d forgotten about everything else during that time and the few days that had followed it, except what was happening with Emmy. I never told anyone what had occurred, and Emmy never discussed it. People thought we’d both been ill with the flu. It was too private to discuss with casual acquaintances.
“Sure,” I agreed, wanting to get it over with since I knew she would keep asking. “Coffee tomorrow.”
“Okay, I’ll text you tonight and confirm!” She spun on her heel and hurried away.
I shut my locker, muttering to myself as I hurried to class.
“Yep. Great.”
Aiden
Bentley arrived at the office, striding in dressed in one of his dark suits. His tie today was gray, and I was certain his socks were the same black they usually were. No happy Emmy socks today.
I had come in hours earlier, busy at my desk working through the documents. After dropping Cami at home, I couldn’t concentrate and instead tried to sleep, which was an epic failure. The nightmares had been stronger than ever, and I was more exhausted than I could remember feeling in my entire life.
Bent had refused to let me come get him with Frank, insisting it was unnecessary, and I was too tired to argue with him. He sat down in front of me, frowning.
“You look like I feel.”
“Awesome, you mean?”
“Like shit.”
I waved my hand. “How’s Emmy’s ankle?”
He rolled his eyes at my deflection.
“A little tender, but fine.”
“Good. We’ll try again next week. Maybe you can convince her to stop self-teaching shit off the internet.”
He shrugged. “I highly doubt it, but I’ll try.” He narrowed his eyes. “We picked Cami up a couple of blocks from her place this morning. She looked remarkably similar to how you look today. Is that a coincidence?”
Cami looked tired? I felt a spark of concern in my chest at his words.
Was she unwell? Had I upset her last night, and she couldn’t sleep?
I cleared my throat. “I have no idea. We had some tacos, and I drove her home.”
“You had dinner together?”
“We had tacos. Just a couple of friends having tacos on a Tuesday. No big deal. We were already there when you texted. It seemed stupid not to eat.”
Before Bentley could respond, Reid sauntered in, a huge grin on his face. He flung himself in the chair beside Bentley. “Hey, morning.”
Bentley eyed him with disdain. “Don’t I pay you enough for you to come into the office not looking like an unmade bed?”
I snickered. Reid was a good-looking kid, but he didn’t seem to care about his appearance. He was tall and lanky, almost as if he hadn’t grown into his body, his thick, dark hair too long and in constant disarray. He brushed it off his face, a constant habit I was sure he was unaware he had. He wore thick, black glasses, which highlighted his hazel eyes and heavy brows. His normal state of dress included torn jeans and a vintage rock band T-shirt, a total deviation from the normal dress code of the office, but for Reid, Bentley allowed it. Today, though, his hair was wilder than normal, there was stubble on his chin, and his clothes looked as though he had slept in them. He was a mess, but his expression was filled with excitement.
“I didn’t come into work, Bent. I never left. I was up all night talking to one of the guys over at Unwired about the cool stuff we’re working on for the condo towers. This is gonna be epic shit, man. These places are gonna be sick with the things they can do once we’re done. Security, music, lighting, even which shower heads you want to use, ev
erything at the touch of a button. No wires, no shit to deal with. We started talking about a new idea, and I had to start writing the code for the programs.” He shook his head. “Epic shit.”
Bentley and I shared an amused glance.
Reid was an untapped genius I had been lucky enough to stumble across. Because of his criminal record, no one would touch him, but there was something about him that made me want to have him on our side. He had been forthcoming, open, and honest in his initial interview and even more so in his second. He impressed both Maddox and me, even with his oversharing of some personal details, and we had been correct in our instinct he would be a good fit here. We had grown closer, and I knew his entire history now, which only made me more protective of him as I would be with a younger brother. He had proven himself invaluable to us, to Bentley, especially, and he had secured a lifelong contract with our company. Reid, the little shit, took full advantage of it.
“Glad to hear my money is being well spent,” Bentley stated dryly.
Reid stood and scratched his stomach, not remotely concerned about Bentley’s tone of voice.
“Yep. In fact, I’m gonna go to my office and take a shower in that private bathroom you made sure I had. Damn thing is bigger than my apartment, I swear. I’ll even change into clean clothes. I think Sandy brought my laundry back yesterday, so there must be some stuff in the closet.”
“Sandy does your laundry?” I sputtered. “That’s not her job.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t ask her to, but she said something about boys being boys and me needing looking after.” He grinned. “Who am I to argue with her?”
“Do not take advantage of her kindness,” I warned. “Sandy deserves our respect.”
He became serious. “Those flowers on her desk are my thanks every week. I bring her coffee, and also upgraded every computer in her house and installed some wicked speakers in her kitchen. For an old broad she has awesome taste in music.”
Then he turned and left, waving over his shoulder.
I looked at Bentley. “The kid has no boundaries.”
He smirked. “The kid is twenty-five. Same age as Cami. Do you think of her as a kid?”
Vested Interest Box Set Books 1-3 Page 28
