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What must his childhood have been like without the ability to disappear into the world of literature? She couldn’t recall a single time when she hadn’t had a book with her.
Ethan shifted beside her, a heavy breath escaping his lips. Shoot! She’d been so caught up on how his life had differed from hers that she had forgotten to respond to his confession. He took a step away, presumably to go to his own horse.
She had to do something, say something. But anything she could come up with on the spot sounded ridiculous or pitying. That wasn’t how she saw him.
Becca shot up, standing in her stirrups. Before she considered the consequences of her actions, she swung her leg over the saddle so she could dismount. Only, she still wasn’t used to the boots she had borrowed from Katrina, and her toe got stuck. She stumbled to the ground.
Ethan materialized out of nowhere, preventing her from making an official crash landing. His arms came up under hers, lifting her. Becca’s head snapped up and she stared into his concerned and surprised gaze.
“What did you do that for?”
“I didn’t do it on purpose,” she muttered, tugging at her foot that was still lodged into the stirrup. Becca had to give it one final, strong yank before she was able to remove it, and she met Ethan’s eyes once more with embarrassment. “I didn’t want you to think…”
She bit on her lower lip and withdrew from him, suddenly realizing he was still holding onto her. Becca rubbed her left arm with her right hand and glanced away.
“I can’t imagine what life must have been like for you.”
His eyes narrowed and he wore a mask of distrust. She couldn’t blame him. The way he’d confessed, she wouldn’t have been surprised to find out that he had been teased or treated poorly due to his disability.
Then it hit her over the head like a ton of bricks. He probably thought she was judging him.
“That’s not a criticism of you by any means.” She launched forward and placed her hand on his arm. “I need you to know that. It’s just that when I was a child, I was constantly reading. I would turn to books for an escape. My parents went through a nasty divorce, and when things got… too hard…” Becca shrugged. “You can probably figure the rest out.”
Ethan still frowned at her. Then he glanced down at where she still touched him.
Becca flushed, pulling back so fast it probably appeared she’d been burned. She let out a nervous laugh but couldn’t find the words to explain what she was feeling. The desire to ask him how he was doing was strong. She wanted to know what his childhood had been like and how his family had supported him. But he was the first one to speak.
“Is that why you became a writer?”
“I’m sorry?” She stiffened. The vague memory of telling him she was a writer filtered through her thoughts. It had been far too easy to spill that part of her life with him. While a part of her had anticipated that she might regret him knowing, another part of her was surprised to realize she didn’t mind that he knew.
“You’re a writer, isn’t that what you said? You didn’t tell me what kind of writer…” Ethan’s voice trailed off and slowly a smile touched his lips. “But based on the way you were talking about reading all the time and carrying a book with you everywhere, it’s not hard to assume that you became a writer because you love literature. You love to read.”
Becca nodded. “Yeah, I suppose I did. Reading was my escape when I was a kid. And writing…”
“It’s your escape now.”
Becca wouldn’t have been able to hide her smile even if she wanted to. The way Ethan had listened to her and put real effort into understanding her was refreshing. “I guess you’re right.”
They were quiet for several moments. The only sounds were from the animals surrounding them. No one interrupted their private moment, and before someone could, Becca knew she had to say something. She had an undeniable urge to assure him that she wouldn’t treat him any differently. She couldn’t explain the prompting except for the way he looked so beaten down since revealing this side of him.
She took his hand in hers and squeezed it. “I want you to know that I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to.”
He glanced at her, relief flickering behind his guarded gaze.
“More than that, I want to help.”
Once again, those walls came shooting up like they could protect him from everything in the world. She moved closer, hoping he’d accept her offer.
“I mean with the speech. You were roped into doing it, and now it totally makes sense why you didn’t want to. I could help youprepare for it. If you want, I could even read it out loud while you record it. Maybe that would help you memorize it—even if it’s only a little.”
“That might actually work,” he murmured, pulling his gaze from hers. “If I had most of it memorized, I wouldn’t have to rely on the paper.”
She grinned. “See? I can actually be good for something.”
His sharp eyes landed on her, catching her off guard. There was something about the way he was looking at her that started those strange reactions in her heart again. The way it sped up then slowed in an erratic way wasn’t doing her any favors. The last thing she needed was to have a heart attack before they could even enjoy their evening.
Becca tore her focus away, choosing instead to stare at their hands. It was moments like this when she could feel herself yearning for this little relationship to be real. Like Ethan had said, she’d become a reader to escape her childhood. She’d become a writer to escape the realities of her current life.
