Straddling the Line
Page 32

“Yeah.”
“I really liked all the women. And I have such a fantastic idea for a new story to present to my producer.”
“That’s good.” He gripped the steering wheel, focusing on the road, the cars ahead of him, trying to keep his attention on driving, while at the same time his mind whirled with ways to get out of what Haven had planned for him.
Fortunately, she’d been busy making notes on her phone, so she stopped talking to him.
He needed time alone. He had to think, to figure a way to back out of this. But how was he going to do that without coming across as a dick?
Damn Haven for putting him in this position. Why couldn’t she have asked him first?
By the time he pulled into the parking garage of the house, he was angry and on edge. He tossed his keys on the counter and went to the fridge to grab a beer.
Haven fixed herself a glass of ice water, then took a seat on the sofa in the living room.
“You were really quiet on the drive back here.”
He took several swallows of beer, not saying anything to her. He needed a minute or two to calm down, hoping the beer would help.
He stopped at the door to the back deck and stared into the darkness, taking another drink of beer.
“Trevor. Is something wrong?”
Anger boiled inside him, looking for a way out. He tried to contain it, but he turned to face her. “You made a decision without consulting me.”
She blinked. “Excuse me? What decision?”
“The literacy event.”
“What about it? I thought you’d be happy.”
He took a deep breath. “You shouldn’t have booked that without consulting me.”
“Why not? Is there some problem with the organization?”
“No. They’re a great organization. That’s why they’re one of the charities I support.”
“Then I don’t understand the problem.”
He saw her frown, and he knew he wasn’t getting his point across.
And he knew why. Because there was something he wasn’t telling her, something he couldn’t tell her without divulging his secret.
He dragged his fingers through his hair. “I can’t do it.”
“Okay. Care to explain why?”
“No. Just cancel it.”
He finished his beer and tossed the bottle in the recycling bin. It hadn’t helped, so he grabbed another out of the refrigerator.
Haven got up and came over to him. “Trevor, I can tell you’re upset about this. Talk to me.”
He pushed past her and opened the door to the back deck, needing the cool night air to clear his head. He walked all the way out to the boat dock and sat.
Haven followed, pulling up a spot next to him.
“I’ve never seen you this upset. Please tell me what’s wrong.”
Instead, he downed half the contents of his bottle of beer, looking for a solution in oblivion. Maybe if he got drunk, his problem would go away.
“I don’t want to talk about this.”
“I think you should. Tell me why you don’t want to do this story. If it’s something about the facility . . .”
“It’s not the facility. They’re great.”
“Then what is it?”
The last thing he wanted right now was to listen to her calm, concerned voice. He pushed off the dock, needing to get away from Haven. He went into the house, but he heard her right on his heels, quietly shutting the door behind her.
“Not now, Haven,” he said, not even looking at her.
“I’m not going away, Trevor.”
His blood boiling, he whipped around to face her. “Maybe you should.”
The hurt and confusion on her face was evident. “What?”
“I think we’re done here.”
She paused for a second, then shook her head. “Oh, no. You don’t get to push me away that easily. Something’s bothering you, and it has nothing to do with you and me. So tell me what’s up.”
He shook his head. “I’m going to bed.”
He tossed the empty beer bottle in the bin and headed up the stairs, intending to lock himself in his room, cowardly avoiding a confrontation with Haven. But she hurried in front of him on the stairs, blocking him.
“I’m not going to let you do this, Trevor. Talk to me.”
“I don’t have anything to say.”
“Don’t avoid me. Don’t avoid this.”
“There’s nothing to avoid. I’m pissed you went behind my back and scheduled something you shouldn’t have. It’s as simple as that.”
“No, it’s not that simple. You’re afraid. I can see it in your face. Now tell me what’s going on, because I’m not going to let this drop.”
They stood on the landing, right in front of her bedroom. He could push her out of the way and he sure as hell could outrun her. And yeah, he could hide in his room, but she’d still be there in the morning, asking the same goddamn questions.
“Leave it alone, Haven.”
She grasped his hand. “I’m worried about you, Trevor. I’ve never seen you so upset. Please talk to me. Come to my room and talk to me.”
She tugged on his hand, but he refused to yield.
If he told her, it would change everything.
No one knew. Brad knew, but he had to know. His agent knew as well.
They were the only ones.
Besides his parents, of course. And Zane.
But he’d never told anyone. Deliberately, he’d never told anyone.
His throat felt like it was closing up. It was hard to swallow. His heart pounded against his rib cage. He couldn’t do this.
“Trevor. Why can’t you do the literacy event?”
He could barely feel her squeezing his hand as he finally blurted out the words he’d sworn he’d never say to anyone else.
“Because I can’t goddamn read.”
THIRTY-ONE
HAVEN’S BREATH CAUGHT. IT WAS AS IF TIME HAD stood still for those few seconds after Trevor had told her he couldn’t read.
“What?”
His shoulders slumped, the words barely audible. “Don’t make me say it again.”
She saw the pain etched into his features, the agony it must have cost him to admit that. “You can’t read? That’s impossible. I tutored you in college.”
He finally sat on the stairs. Slumped in defeat was more like it, as if a balloon had burst. He had no fight left in him.
And she’d made him admit it. She felt awful.
She kneeled in front of him and said it again. “I tutored you. In English. History. Math.”
“Easy enough to fake it. You did all the work. And I can read some. Just not good. I get confused. So I just . . . don’t.”
Oh, God. Tears pricked her eyes. She hadn’t even noticed. She’d been so focused on her crush on him, on her irritation with him being the hotshot athlete who’d wanted to bargain with her to help him pass his classes, she hadn’t paid attention to why he’d been struggling so much.
She’d thought he was lazy. Her stomach tightened as the guilt poured over her.
She laid her hands on his knees. “How bad is it?”
“Bad.”
Then it hit her. The ridiculous organization in his refrigerator, the fact he hadn’t read the contract his lawyer had brought him. She’d never actually seen him read anything. He played some games on his phone, but that day he’d made her punch in a phone number on hers.
It was starting to click.
“What about your playbook? I know football players have to learn a playbook.”
“My agent and my lawyer know. They helped me through it, taught it to me play by play. Besides, there are pictures in the playbook. Fewer words. It’s easier to understand.”
For a brief moment, she closed her eyes, then reopened them. “That’s why you chose the literacy group as one of your charities.”
“Yeah. But I can’t read to those kids. I can’t let people find out about this.”
“You can be taught to read, Trevor. I can help you.”
He stood and started backing up the stairs. “No. Oh, f**k no. It’s too late for me.”
She stood, too, looked up at him. “It’s not too late for you. It’s never too late. You can’t give up on yourself.”
“Look. It’s bad enough that you know. I don’t want anyone else to know, and I hope you know this is off the record. If you try to put this in your interview, I’ll sue both you personally and the network.”
She gasped, horrified he’d think that of her. “Do you really think I’d use something as personal as this to get ahead in my job?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, Haven. Would you?”
She wanted to slap him, but she knew it was hurt and defensiveness causing him to lash out like this. “I wouldn’t, and you know me. I would never hurt you that way. I’m trying to help you.”
“You can help me by canceling the event at the literacy center. Tell them there was a scheduling conflict.”
She shook her head. “I think it would only help you to—”
“You’ve helped enough. We’re done here.”
He turned around and started up the stairs.
Haven read the finality in his statement. She dashed up and got in front of him, laying her hand on his chest, forcing him to stop and face her. “Done here? What do you mean?”
The severity in his expression cut her deeply. There was no warmth, no caring there. She saw . . . nothing.
“I mean we’re done. I have to concentrate on football, and you have enough footage to finish up your interview. Why don’t you pack it up and leave.”
And just like that, he was pushing her out of his life. She knew why, but it still hurt to hear him say the words.
“Trevor. Don’t do this.”
“You can stay tonight, but tomorrow I want you out of here.”
“Don’t. Please, don’t. We can fix this together. I’ll help you.”
He didn’t budge. She saw no emotion. It was like he’d completely closed off from her, from feeling anything. “Haven. You need to go.”
She’d never seen that look on his face, the way he’d just completely shut down. Part of her wanted to push through, to refuse to leave until he saw reason. The other part of her hurt so badly because he didn’t trust her, didn’t care enough about her—about the both of them—to even try.
She wanted to beg him to let her stay so she could help him through this.
But why? It was clear he wanted nothing more to do with her. He’d made it nearly thirty years without her, and he intended to go without her. He didn’t need or want her help.
He didn’t want her. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to beg him to let her stay.
“Fine. I’ll be gone in the morning.”
He gave a short nod. “I think that’s best.”
“Me, too.” She turned and went to her room and shut the door, then entered the bathroom and turned on the water in the sink.
She looked into the mirror, seeing the unshed tears shimmer in her eyes.
Screw Trevor. She was not going to cry over him.
She leaned over the sink to wash her face as big, fat tears slid down her cheeks.
Oh, damn. Maybe she was going to cry over him after all.
THIRTY-TWO
HAVEN STAYED UP LATE TO FILE HER LATEST PRODUCTION notes and photos and to make plane reservations.
It wasn’t like she was going to get any sleep anyway.
She’d cried for an hour, miserable and unhappy and wishing like crazy that Trevor would knock on her door and tell her he was an as**ole and beg her forgiveness.
Ha. That hadn’t happened.
She’d made plane reservations, but not back to New York.
She took a flight to Oklahoma, and arrived at her mother’s house the next evening.
Her mother was surprised to see her, and as soon as she saw her mom, the tears came again.
She hadn’t wanted to cry in front of her mom. Her intent was to spend a couple of days there, regroup emotionally, then be on her way.
“Oh, honey, what happened?” her mom asked after she’d let loose a barrage of sobs and her mom sat with her on the sofa and comforted her with hugs and tissues.
When she had finished crying, she told her mom about Trevor, about letting her guard down and falling in love with him, about how he held himself away from her emotionally, and then, because she trusted her mother implicitly, she told her Trevor’s secret.
“Wow,” her mom said. “That’s some painful secret to hold tight to for all these years. And how that poor boy must be hurtin’ inside.”
Haven shook her head. “How could I not have seen it? I tutored him, Mom.”
“Honey, you didn’t see it because he was clever in hiding it. From you, and obviously, from everyone.”
“How did he get through school unable to read? Through college?”
“He said he reads some, right?”
“Yes.”
“And you’ve worked with kids with literacy issues before. You know how easily they can slide through the system. Trevor’s not dumb. He’s very smart.”
Haven nodded. “Smart enough to game me, and probably his teachers through the years.”
“Yes.”
She was still trying to take it all in. Not just Trevor’s literacy issues, but him summarily throwing her out of his house—out of his life.
She took her things upstairs to her room and spent the first day sulking and feeling utterly drained. She slept late, then got up and had breakfast in town, went for a walk to clear her head, and did some work at the house during the day. When her mom came home from work that day, Haven helped her slice carrots and potatoes for dinner.