"I do."
"I made arrangements for you to do a reading with some of their kids next week as part of the interview. You'll go in and read to a few of the kids. I think it'll make for a great human interest piece."
Trevor's fork stilled on its way to his mouth. "What?"
"Oh, that's a wonderful idea, Haven," Allison said. "Several of our guys are invested in this project."
"Is that right? Maybe some of them could come along and read as well. If you could tell me who they are, I'll make contact with them and see if they're interested."
"I'm sure they will be. All the guys involved with the charity would love to have some focus turned on it. Isn't that right, Trevor?"
Trevor could barely focus on what Allison and Haven were saying. All he heard was Haven saying they'd film him reading to the kids.
He couldn't do it.
"Uh, yeah. Sure."
His throat had gone dry, his dinner now a brick sitting in his stomach.
He had to find a way to get out of this.
The rest of the night passed in a blur until it was time to say their good-byes. They climbed into the car and Trevor was dead silent on the drive back.
"It was fun tonight, wasn't it?" Haven finally asked.
"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, fuck 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."