Rosemary Beach: When I'm Gone Part 4

I had to help her. I wasn't sure how I was going to manage that, considering I had to go back to Texas in two days. That had been my stepfather on the phone. I was getting more horses to board. And I needed the income. I couldn't not go home in order to handle this.

"I would never do that. But I want to help you," I told her, waiting for her to tell me no and try to make me leave. Instead, her lips puckered up again like she was about to cry. s.h.i.+t, what had I done now?

"You're so . . . nice. Why are you so nice? I clean your sisters' houses. You don't know me, not really. But you open doors for me, and you don't act like I'm an idiot, and you . . . want to help me?" She said the last bit on a choked sob. "No one can help me. You can't fix what isn't there. And my brain just isn't all there."

f.u.c.king h.e.l.l. "Don't say that again," I warned her. I was done hearing her demean herself. I had seen intelligence s.h.i.+ning in her eyes. "Your brain is fine."

Reese's eyes flashed something I didn't understand, and then a small smile tugged on her lips as she sniffled. "You're really a nice man, Mase Manning. I don't normally like men. They . . . make me nervous. But you, you're different."

My own f.u.c.king emotions were too raw for this. I couldn't let myself question why she didn't trust or like men. The haunted look in her eyes when she'd admitted that sent off a warning sign I couldn't miss. She had more secrets-I'd bet my life on it.

Simple fact was, girls who looked like Reese knew men well. They had been controlling them since they hit p.u.b.erty. Men didn't frighten them. They owned men. Unless . . . No. I wasn't letting my thoughts go there right now. But G.o.d, I hoped I was wrong.

"I have to leave in two days. I'm going back to Texas. I've got business to handle. But I am going to help you. When I'm gone, you can call me, and I'll be there to listen. I'm a really good friend. But I need you to promise me that what I set up for you, to help you, you'll do. You will trust me to put you in good hands. I won't let anyone hurt you. I'm a phone call away."

I wasn't sure what the h.e.l.l I was going to do in two days, but I had some connections. I was Kiro Manning's son, and sometimes that meant something. I never used it for myself, but I'd use it to help Reese. Kiro could demand the best, and Reese was getting the best.

Reese tilted her head to the side, and I wondered again how long her hair was. How it looked draped across her shoulders. Did it naturally curl, or was it straight?

"Why?" she asked "Why what?"

"Why do you want to help me?"

I didn't even pause. "Because you're worth helping."

Reese.

I stood staring at the door in wonder long after Mase had left.

I didn't understand why he thought I was worth helping, but he did. An unfamiliar feeling of warmth spread through me. I was afraid to move. I didn't want this feeling to vanish. I liked it too much. So I stood perfectly still and enjoyed it.

I was still gripping my phone in my hand. He had taken it from me and added his number to my contacts. He'd even taken a photo of the boots he was wearing so that it would appear on the screen when he called. I wouldn't have to worry about trying to read his name. I would know who was calling.

Smiling, I thought about the selfie Jimmy had taken when he had added his number to my phone. He'd been very into getting a picture of himself. So different from the picture of Mase's boots. I didn't imagine Mase had ever taken a selfie.

I liked Mase Manning. I liked him a lot. Even more than Jimmy. In a very different way. And I knew that wasn't a good thing. Mase was nice to me, but he didn't like me the way I liked him. I could tell by the way he treated me. Maybe that was why I felt so safe with him, because I liked him that way. I knew I'd never have to worry about him feeling the same way. He didn't even live here, after all.

My heart sank.

Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I put my phone down on the sofa and walked to the kitchen. Getting worked up over this was silly. Mase was going to try to help me, and although I was worried that I couldn't be helped, I had to hope. What if someone could help me? I wanted to believe that. It would change everything. I could do so much more. I could get my GED, and maybe I could even go to college.

With a newfound determination, I picked up my newest picture book from the library and went to curl up on the sofa. I would get through this one today. I could do this. Mase had faith in me. I just needed more faith in myself.

Three hours later, I was almost finished with my book. My head ached, and my eyes felt red and irritated from straining. The knock on my door was followed by "Yoo-hoo, babe, it's me. I got pistachio ice cream and two spoons."

Smiling, I tucked the book away under the sofa and went to let Jimmy in.

He was smiling a little too brightly when I opened the door. Holding up two spoons, he sashayed into the room as only Jimmy could do and still look good.

I closed the door and turned to look at him.

"I'll admit it now," he said. "This is a bribe. I want to know all about your interactions with Mase Colt Manning. Every last, delicious detail. Indulge me, please. That man stars in several of my fantasies."

A laugh bubbled up out of me. Jimmy winked and sank down on the sofa.

"Spill it, woman," he urged.

I walked over to join him. "I'm afraid you're looking for juicy info that I don't have. Mase has been a nice guy. Nothing to feed your fantasies, I'm afraid."

Jimmy c.o.c.ked an eyebrow. "Really? Not one little kiss?"

"Uh, no." I sputtered, surprised he would even ask me that.

He dug into the ice cream. "That makes no sense. The man is straight. I'd know if he wasn't. And any straight single man would be on you like white on rice." He paused and let out a sigh. "d.a.m.n. That's it. He isn't single. Didn't think about that. Well, c.r.a.p. I was so hoping you were about to get some action with a piece of Grade A meat."

I cringed and laughed at the same time, but in my stomach, I didn't feel like laughing. I felt a little sick. Or deflated. The idea of Mase having a girlfriend didn't sit well with me. It wasn't like I thought I had a chance or that I even wanted a chance. But he made me feel safe and normal.

"I figured you hadn't dated because you were picky and no one was up to snuff. Mase is up to everyone's snuff, so I thought you'd scored a winner. Sucks to know that ain't the case. Pickings around here are slim. The hotties are getting ticked off the list rapidly." Jimmy took a big bite of ice cream like he was the one who was depressed over this situation.

I had lost my appet.i.te.

"I was so sure, too. He jumped up before Harlow could even get it out of her mouth to go find you and drive you home. The boy didn't even tell everyone good-bye. He just made sure to tell me that he wanted me driving you to your clients. He didn't seem to like you walking. Then he bolted." Jimmy waved his spoon. "Would have bet my left nut he was hot after your a.s.s. And I really f.u.c.king like my nuts right where they are."

On that note, I decided to take a bite of ice cream.

"There you go. Eat the creamy goodness, and let's talk about maybe you and me double-dating. My man has a cousin who is fine. He lives about an hour away, but he is pretty d.a.m.n close to Grade A." I started to open my mouth to stop him, but he held up his hand and made a tutting sound at me. "Not so fast. Let me finish my hard sell here. He's a good guy. I know him, and I would be there with you. I wouldn't let anything happen that you weren't perfectly OK with. He's refined. I think you'd like him. He's doing his clinicals right now, and he hardly has time for a life outside of the hospital. When he does go out, meeting women is still hard for him. He likes to keep his work separate from his personal life. So he needs a date."

A doctor? There was no way I could date a man who was that smart. I couldn't even read the dinner menu. My hands would sweat, and my vision would blur from panic. No, I couldn't. But Jimmy looked so hopeful. I hated this. I hated not being able to say yes. Not being able to meet new people and trust that if they found out, they wouldn't judge me or ridicule me.

"You need to do this, and I would be right there beside you. I don't want to know anything you don't want to share with me, but I know something in your past is bad s.h.i.+t. I can see it in the way you live. I've been close enough and watched you enough. Every d.a.m.n straight man in this apartment building has tried to get your attention. You flee like the bats of h.e.l.l are on your heels. So you aren't hiding it from me. I see you. And I think whatever is in your past that's s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up the present needs to be laid to rest. I'm your friend, Reese. Let's do this together."

This was too much. Two people in one day wanting to help me. And both of them men. A species I thought I'd never trust.

"OK," I said, realizing I had to figure this out somehow. Mase had made me brave today. He might not know his words had been a salve to my wounded soul, but they had been. "But I need to know where we're going to eat before we go." I wasn't going to explain why. I couldn't do that right now. Not yet.

Jimmy beamed at me and nodded. "I can do that. h.e.l.l, you can even pick the place. Just so you'll go."

I could look up the restaurant's website and print a copy of the menu. Then I could figure out something on it to order. If I was in the privacy of my apartment and alone, I could focus. Maybe.

Mase.

One phone call to Kiro, and I had an appointment the next day with a psychologist with a PhD in learning disabilities only an hour and a half from Rosemary Beach. The man stood up to shake my hand from behind his wide, cluttered desk after pus.h.i.+ng his gla.s.ses back up his nose from where they had slipped. He did n't seem very thrilled about our meeting. An annoyed furrow sat between his white eyebrows, giving him a pinched look.

"You must know people in high places, Mr. Manning. I, as you can imagine, am a busy man, and my courses are coming to the end of the semester."

As I had guessed, he wasn't happy about this. Knowing Kiro, he'd called the president of the university where this guy taught and had him order Dr. Henry Hornbrecker to meet with me today. "I'm sorry that I've come during a bad time for you. I leave town tomorrow, and there's some business I need handled before I go back to Texas."

The man's time was obviously important, so I wasn't going to waste it. I pulled the piece of paper Reese had left crumpled up on the floorboard of Harlow's Mercedes when she scrambled out in a panic. Every time I looked at it, I remembered her struggle, and it made something inside me ache.

I handed him the paper. "I had asked the person who wrote this to write down Three-three-three Berkley Road. If that person is an adult around the age of twenty-two and struggled to write this much, what do you think that means? Why would she write that? And why would it be so difficult and send her into a panic?"

The doctor frowned down at the paper. "Twenty-two, you say?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," I replied.

"Are you asking me for you or for her? Surely a twenty-two-year-old who suffers this severely has already been diagnosed in school or as a child and knows what her problem is."

He knew what the problem was. My heart sped up. "No, she doesn't know. She couldn't finish high school. She can't pa.s.s tests. She's been told she's . . . stupid. But she's not. Not at all."

The doctor muttered a curse and sat back down in his chair, looking at the paper I'd given him. "I thought that by this day and age, our public school systems were more adept at labeling and dealing with learning disabilities. Especially one as common as dyslexia. Tell me, does she read?"

Dyslexia. f.u.c.k me.

I'd known someone with dyslexia in school. He had special cla.s.ses and a tutor who helped him every day. He ended up graduating with honors. No one had helped Reese, and it had been this simple. A lump formed in my throat, and I pressed my fist into my thighs. Anger, relief, and frustration all coursed through me at once.

"No, she can't read," I replied. "She tries, but she struggles. I need to get her help. Someone who can help her read and write. She struggles daily with things that are so simple to everyone else, and she thinks it's because her brain isn't all there. I will pay whatever price." f.u.c.k, I wanted to roar in protest. It was pure injustice. And neglect.

"I know a professor in Panama City. He is younger, but this is a condition that is near and dear to his heart. His father suffered from the same thing and didn't learn to read or write until he was fifty years old. Astor Munroe has had several adult cases that have ended successfully. He even works at a school for dyslexia in a less fortunate neighborhood pro bono, several afternoons a week. I will give him a call and have him contact you as soon as possible."

A man. Reese didn't do well around men. "Is there a female who can do the same thing? Men make her nervous."

Henry frowned. "I don't know offhand of a woman in that area who can help with someone who suffers as severely or has been as neglected as your friend. But I a.s.sure you, Dr. Munroe is a nice man. He'll set her at ease."

Maybe she would let Jimmy go with her. She trusted him. f.u.c.k, I needed to stay. But I couldn't. My life and responsibilities were back in Texas. I had done this much. Now it was up to Reese to take the next step. I couldn't force her.

"OK," I said. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate your taking the time to meet with me."

He nodded, no longer looking as annoyed as he had when I arrived. "She'll need testing to confirm my diagnosis, but from what you've told me and what this says"-he held up the paper I'd given him-"it's dyslexia." He reached for a pad and a pen and slid them to me. "Give me her info and yours. I'll have Dr. Munroe contact you either later today or tomorrow, depending on his schedule."

Reese was going to have a chance. I was going to give her one.

I waited to call Reese until I had heard from Astor Munroe. Twice I had caught myself about to text her when I realized she wouldn't be able to read a text or text me back, so I stopped myself. Instead, I spent the rest of my day and evening with Harlow, Grant, and Lila Kate at the beach, then went back to Nan's to pack my things. I needed to leave as soon as I got the call from the professor.

Before ten the next morning, Astor Munroe called me and said he was very interested in helping Reese. He even sounded excited and intrigued by her situation. His price wasn't cheap, but he explained that he was fitting her into a very tight schedule. He asked me questions that I didn't know the answers to. She had shared very little of her past with me. I gave him her contact information and told him I would be going to talk to her today. I hoped she would call the professor on her own after I left, but if he didn't hear from her in two days' time, he a.s.sured me, he would give her a call.

Reese was home when I called her to ask if I could stop by to talk. Now here I was, back at her apartment door, hoping she would take this chance and use it. I couldn't do any more than this. Even if I wanted to stay and hold her hand, that wasn't possible. I had horses and a ranch to get back home to.

Reese opened the door on the first knock and smiled shyly at me before stepping back to let me in. Her hair was down today. Long, dark, silky layers hung halfway down her back in soft waves. It had curl. d.a.m.n, that was better than I'd imagined. I had to clear my throat to calm my instant l.u.s.t.

"I like your hair down," I blurted out, before I could stop myself.

Reese's cheeks turned pink, and a pleased smile touched her lips. Someone had to have told her that before. "Thank you," she replied softly.

I stepped inside and tore my gaze off her long legs, on complete display in those shorts. Even the brightly striped socks that came halfway up her calves didn't detract from those legs of hers.

"Can I get you something to drink?" Her voice wavered like she was nervous.

"Uh, yeah, thanks," I replied, knowing that I didn't have time to drink anything. I needed to give her the details and get to the airport.

She started walking to the little corner of the room that was her kitchen. "I have orange juice, and I just made some lemonade. Sorry I don't have a large selection," she said, glancing back at me.

"Lemonade sounds good."

She beamed like it pleased her that I wanted to try her lemonade. I watched as she pulled down a gla.s.s from the open shelves she had instead of actual cabinets. Everything was neatly arranged. The food shelves were even organized. I needed her to come to my place and do my cabinets. They were a f.u.c.king nightmare to find anything in.

Ice clinked in the gla.s.s, and I s.h.i.+fted my gaze back to her. She poured me some lemonade, then put the pitcher back into the narrow fridge. There couldn't be much room in that thing.

"When you were in school, did anyone ever mention that you could be dyslexic?" I asked, as she brought me the drink.

She paused in mid-step. Then she continued walking toward me. "No, but I've heard of that. I just don't know what it is, exactly."

I took the gla.s.s and sat down on the chair across from the sofa. "The specialist I met with yesterday believes that is what you suffer from. Dyslexia does not mean you are in any way less intelligent than other people. I've been put in contact with a professor who has a PhD in learning disorders. He specializes in dyslexia. He's willing to work with you free of charge after hearing about your problems. His father also was never diagnosed and didn't learn to read and write until he was fifty years old. This is a pa.s.sion of his now. He wants to help people. He wants to help you."

Reese sank down onto the sofa, looking at me with many emotions crossing her face. But the dominant one was fear. I didn't want her to be scared of this. I wanted to give her hope.

"Tell me what you're thinking," I encouraged her.

She gripped her hands tightly in her lap. "What-what if we find out that's not it, and you went to all this trouble. I might just be stu-"

"Don't let me hear you call yourself that again. It infuriates me, Reese. I'm serious. You are the farthest thing from that. I promise you. And if that's not your problem, Dr. Munroe will find out what it is. This is a learning disability. It can be conquered."

She closed her eyes tightly and took a deep breath. I could see her wanting to hope for this. I just had to persuade her to reach out and take it. "He can figure out what my problem is if it isn't dyslexia?" she asked, looking at me with those wide baby-blue eyes that did things to my chest.

"Yes. He can."

She let out a small laugh, then covered her mouth as a sob broke free. I wasn't sure if I should comfort her or wait it out, but then she stood up and launched herself at me. Her arms circled my neck as she slammed against me. All that cinnamon sweetness engulfed my senses. "Thank you . . . I don't even know . . . that's not even enough. I can't find the right words. But just . . . thank you," she said, as she let out another sob, still holding on tightly to me.

I gently wrapped my arms around her and tried like h.e.l.l not to think about how good her t.i.ts felt pressed up against me. She was emotional and thanking me; I was not going to take advantage of this. "You're welcome. I'm glad you're willing to do this. I think you're bound for great things, Reese. You just needed someone to give you a lift up."

She pulled back to look at me and give me a watery smile, then buried her forehead in my chest. "I can't believe you. I don't know why you wanted to help me or what I did to deserve this. I woke you up singing, and I know my singing is horrible and was probably very loud. And I broke your mirror and made a mess that I haven't even cleaned up yet, and I bled on you. I just don't know why all that led to you doing something like this for me. But thank you." She barely stopped for a breath as she let out all her feelings against my chest.

Smiling, I reached out and touched her hair. I had been fighting the urge since I'd walked in and seen that it was down. Just as I'd imagined, it was silky. "You broke my sister's mirror, and I don't much care for Nan. Besides, she can afford to replace it. You never bled on me, just the floor, and I've cleaned up that mess. It's long gone. As for your singing, yes, it's horrible. But there's something about you, Reese, that makes me want to ease that lost look in your eyes."

She went very still in my arms, then loosened her hold on me and pulled back to look at me before she unlatched herself from around my neck and moved away, but only by a few inches. A grin tugged at her lips. "My singing is horrible, isn't it?" Then she laughed. "G.o.d, I was so embarra.s.sed when I turned around and saw you standing there." She shook her head. "I can cook better than I sing. I promise. Can I make you dinner tonight? I want to do something for you."

Never had I been upset about getting new horses to board. I liked money, and I needed horses to keep the ranch running. But d.a.m.ned if I wasn't resenting them right about now. "I have to go," I told her.