Page 28 of Quit Playing Games with My Heart

“What were you saying about Jameson?” Diccon asked, looking concerned.

“That the man is an idiot,” Gilbert answered immediately. “And a thorn in my side. That he’s the worst thing that ever happened to Common Grounds and I wish he’d never been born.”

“Did you really say all those things?” Diccon asked, his eyes going wide with incredulity.

“Not in so many words,” Gilbert said, “but I stand by that.”

“Brian must have overheard our conversation,” I said, heart sinking to my gut. “He must have heard something and thought we were talking about him.”

I really hoped I was wrong, but Brian was sensitive. If he really did have self-esteem issues about not living up to his parents’ expectations for intelligence, then anything he might have overheard Gilbert venting about could have struck a raw nerve.

“I need to go talk to him,” I said, pushing away from the counter and crossing the kitchen to grab my keys. “If he’s upset about something he overheard, something that isn’t true, then I don’t want to let this fester and get worse.”

“Good,” Diccon called after me as I headed for the door. “But make sure you listen to him with understanding when he tells you what’s wrong.”

Those words hit me with a strange chill, making me wonder what Diccon had known this whole time and hadn’t shared. Whatever it was, he wouldn’t be the only one who knew Brian’s secret for long. All I wanted to do was care for my new boyfriend and give him everything he needed to be happy. I just hoped he trusted me enough to confide in me.

Brian’s apartment wasn’t that far from our house. I made it there fairly quickly. It was late enough that traffic was light, but not so late that showing up unannounced would disturb Brian after he’d already gone to bed. At least, I hoped he hadn’t already gone to bed.

I parked on the street, then pulled out my phone before getting out of the car. I should text him to warn him that I was there. But as I started typing out the message, something occurred to me out of the blue.

What if Brian had trouble reading?

I let out a breath and lowered my phone. Could that explain everything? It might explain why he’d sent me a voice message in reply to my text earlier. It could also explain why he’d walked into the office that morning despite the sign on the door. And it might also cover a bunch of other random things that had happened over time, like using the wrong cleaning products when the labels changed or getting nervous when he was asked to read the rules for the new game that evening.

But was it really feasible that someone in their mid-twenties couldn’t read?

Maybe if they had some sort of learning challenge that they’d never told anyone about.

“Sweetheart,” I murmured as if I was already face to face with Brian. If all this really did come down to reading, then I wanted to move heaven and earth to give my man whatever help and support he needed.

I got out of the car and walked around to Brian’s apartment door without texting him first. Texting would probably be more stressful than me just knocking on the door. As soon as I knocked, I took a step back and waited, my mind racing over the best way to help in a situation I didn’t understand.

A few seconds later, Brian answered the door with a curious look. That expression immediately popped into shock that spread a gorgeous pink across Brian’s cheeks. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Is it alright that I’m here?” I asked. “Can I come in?”

Brian gaped at me for another few seconds before snapping his mouth closed and shaking his head like he was trying to clear his thoughts. “Yeah. Sure. Come in.”

He stepped back, gesturing for me to enter. As I did, I swept an appreciative glance over the way he was dressed. He had on plaid pajama bottoms that had seen better days and a faded t-shirt with the University of Pittsburgh logo on it. Which felt ironic, given the circumstances.

“Why are you here?” Brian asked as soon as he’d shut the door behind him, sealing us into his cozy apartment together. “I mean, sorry. That sounded rude.” He shook his head, his face going even pinker.

“I’m worried about you,” I said, deciding on honesty and caring from the start. “I know something is wrong, and even though you’re under no obligation to tell me anything, I kind of hope you will.”

Brian seemed to curl in on himself a little. He hugged himself with one arm, rubbing his bicep and looking down. “Nothing is wrong,” he lied. I could tell it was a lie.

“Sweetheart,” I said softly, stepping closer to him and resting my hands on his shoulders for a moment before cupping the side of his face with one hand. “Something is wrong,” I went on. “You don’t have to tell me, but I really do want to help if I can. I…I have a feeling a few things today triggered you. I think maybe you overheard Gilbert and I talking about something this evening which, by the way, had nothing at all to do with you, but maybe you thought it did?”

Brian snapped his head up to look at me, his eyes like a deer in the headlights. He worked his mouth for a few seconds before sound came out. “I did hear the two of you talking in the office,” he said, his voice quiet and hoarse. “About…about how stupid I am.”

“Sweetheart, no.” My heart felt like it would start bleeding at the vulnerability in Brian’s eyes. It was like I could see years of hurt and shame bubbling to the surface. I hated it, and I was determined to do something about it. “You’re not stupid, Brian,” I told him. “You’re one of the cleverest people I know.”

Surprise filled Brian’s expression. “I’m really not.”

“You’re constantly coming up with great ideas for the café,” I told him. “Not just games night, although that’s huge. You’ve had so many good suggestions over the years, like how to arrange the tables and which seasonal decorations to put up. You’re damn good at your job.”

“I’m just a barista,” he said, intensity growing as his body tensed. “I can’t even—” He stopped, looking hard at me.