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Her father stood up and walked over with his hand out. “Jake Kuppton.”
“Corey Matthews.” He shook his hand.
“I know who you are. I’m familiar with you on the field.” Jake’s eyes cut to his daughter. “Seems Taran forgot to mention who you were to her.”
Taran moved next to him, crossing her arms over the words on her tank top. “I told you I was dating someone.”
Jake scoffed, then nodded to the table. “You seem to know my grandkids, but this is my wife, Michelle.” He pointed to the woman who had Taran’s green eyes. “This is my son, Tristan, his wife, Dana.” He moved down the table. “My son-in-law, Ben, and my daughter, Teagan, whose smirk is telling me she was well aware of who her sister’s been dating.”
“Lord love a duck. You’re better looking in person.” Teagan’s comment had her husband rolling his eyes, but Corey glanced at his girl.
“Did she just pray to a bird?”
“Yeah.” Taran shook her head. “I don’t get it either.”
Jake covered his laugh with a cough. “Join us. There’s plenty of food. Taran, grab the man a plate.”
“Thank you, Mr. Kuppton,” Corey said as he sat in the empty chair next to Bryce.
“Jake would be just fine, especially since I intend to call you jackass tomorrow if you beat my ’Stros.”
Everyone laughed at that, and even Corey had to smile.
“Pops!” Dana chided. “Not in front of the kids.”
“Not his worst,” Michelle announced as she passed a plate of steak to Corey.
Taran sat in the chair next to him, setting a plate down. Corey ate and discussed Diablo, baseball, and cows. Although he’d had a minute of panic walking in, Taran’s family welcomed him without any issue, even though he played for the Metros.
“The steak’s incredible. You raise cow well,” Corey said after he swallowed his last bite.
“Uck.” Taran gagged. “Don’t remind me that used to be Bessie.” She moved her broccoli around on her plate. Corey glanced down at Taran’s shirt and snorted as the words finally came into focus. He tried but failed to stifle a laugh.
“It’s true,” Taran said, looking at her shirt.
“What does it say?” Noah asked.
“Read it,” Crystal replied.
“He can’t read,” Bryce said, and Noah turned bright red.
A conversation Corey’d had with Taran played in his mind. Noah had dyslexia and struggled as much, maybe more than Corey did with reading and that made the teasing remark hit too close.
Corey’s stomach sank as he took in Noah’s embarrassment. He remembered that feeling well. Noah glanced to the ground, unable to look at Corey even as the adults around them all jumped to his aid. None of the words were helping Noah, and Corey understood. He wanted to say something, but Noah got up and left the room before he could.
His dad, Tristan, pushed to his feet, but Corey held his hand out.
“If you don’t mind, I might be able to help.”
Tristan’s eyes shot to Taran, who nodded.
“Go ahead.”
Corey stood and headed down the same hallway Noah had gone, finding him, ironically, in a room full of bookshelves.
Corey banged his knuckle against the door and then waited for Noah.
“It’s okay. You don’t need to come in and tell me ten things that are supposed to make me feel better.” Noah stood, staring out the window into the fields. Corey’d played enough with Noah to know the kid was usually friendly and easy-going, but his hackles were up now. And why wouldn’t they be? It was hard to be fifteen and struggle with something most eight-year-olds could do. Hell, it was hard to be over thirty and struggle with stuff eight-year-olds could easily do.
