Page 7 of Secret Love (The Single Dad Playbook #2)

CHAPTER SEVEN

LABELS

HENLEY

I stare at the phone for a few seconds after leaving Tru a voice message. She mentioned talking about Cassidy, so my interest is piqued.

“Everything okay?” Bowie asks.

We’re just getting started at the gym and I’d hoped to steer the conversation away from Tru, but I don’t know how long that’ll last. Fuck it, I need their perspective whether I want it or not.

“Bree and I are meeting Tru this afternoon after school. I don’t know what it’s about…” I glance around to see all four of the guys staring at me, waiting for me to say more.

“Is Cassidy okay at school?” Bowie, God bless him—he’s always trying to help us stay focused on what’s important.

“I hope so. I guess we’ll find out.” I spot Rhodes while he lifts and once he’s done with his repetitions, he sits up.

“I wish you’d sent the flowers,” he says, grinning up at me.

I look everywhere but him when I say, “I gave her cinnamon rolls from Serendipity…oh, and she might be Cassidy’s teacher permanently.”

“What?” Rhodes sputters, standing up. “Why didn’t you start with that? The cinnamon rolls…” he clarifies.

“It was no big deal.” I shrug. “She was one of the dance teachers in the girls’ class on Saturday and it’s right by Serendipity.”

“What? You did this on Saturday and we’re just now hearing about it?” Penn asks. “And she’s the girls’ dance teacher now? Bro, you’ve gotta get these things off your chest.”

“I really don’t.” I laugh.

“You could almost call this serendipitous,” Rhodes teases, pulling out a British accent. He does it well—he’s always lived in the States, but his dad is from London, England, and his mom is from Cape Town, South Africa, so he can go between their accents like it’s nothing.

“Did it work? The cinnamon rolls?” Weston asks, grinning. “Did she soften at all?”

“Minimally.” I lift a shoulder and sit on the bench, waiting until Rhodes gets in place to lie back and lift.

“Define minimally,” Rhodes says, looking over me.

“Can’t. I’m busy.”

They all groan and it gives me too much joy to irritate them.

“Well, what are you taking her today?” Penn asks.

I pause before lifting to ask, “Do I have to take her something every time I see her?”

“It doesn’t hurt to grovel a little bit.” Weston flings a towel over his shoulder and smirks.

“Nah. I’m not taking anything today. Bree will be there and?—”

“Bree’s moved on. You should too,” Rhodes says.

“I have moved on. It’s not about that at all. It would be weird if I’m taking Cassidy’s teacher gifts…”

When I glance up, they’re all looking at me with varying levels of concern.

“What?” I frown.

“You are over Bree, right?” Bowie asks.

“I’m absolutely over her,” I say. “That doesn’t mean I’m not hesitant about relationships, but Bree and I—we’re better as friends. I like where we are now.”

“Well, don’t let her sabotage your chances with Tru, even if it’s unintentional,” Rhodes says.

“She wouldn’t do that. She’s dating and happy, and even if she wasn’t, she wouldn’t want to mess things up for me.”

Bree might have thrown my world upside down when she said she wanted a divorce, but I’d known she didn’t love the football life. We dated when we were in high school and college, and neither one of us had any idea my career would explode the way it did after I signed professionally. She’s a perfectionist who’s always had her life planned out, and she admitted later that she’d thought my love for football wouldn’t go very far. Me becoming famous and being gone a lot didn’t fit into her plans at all.

The more excited I was with the way my career was going, the more miserable and drained Bree became. We were both tempted to stay together because of the girls, but Bree said she wanted to give the girls her best self and she couldn’t do that when she just wasn’t happy.

She was completely right, of course. It wouldn’t have been healthy to raise the girls in our dysfunction.

Now that I’ve had a few years to process our divorce, the root of what we couldn’t overcome was that we’d been growing apart for years and felt more like roommates who were never on the same page.

Understanding her reasons doesn’t mean I haven’t felt like a failure though. My parents have been married for forty years and are still going strong. I’d planned on following in their footsteps, whether Bree and I had that spark or not.

“I guess I assume the worst of exes since Carrie is ready to stomp me with her five-inch heels at all times.” Rhodes makes a face as he wipes his face with a towel. “I know Bree’s not like my ex-girlfriend, but Carrie has put me on high alert.”

Coach Evans walks in and pauses when he sees us. “I think you’re the only players who aren’t on vacation right now. Can’t get enough of this place, huh?”

“Could say the same for you too, Coach,” I tease. “You know that’s why we’re your best players, right?”

“Damn straight, I know it. It’s the example the four of you set,” he says, nodding at Bowie, Weston, Rhodes, and me. “Because this guy would likely be on a nude beach chasing tail and drinking endless tequila right about now if it weren’t for you guys.” He points at Penn, who looks stung initially but then laughs like he’s in on the joke.

I’m not sure why Evans is so hard on Penn, but he has been from day one. Penn likes to have fun outside of work, but whether it’s the offseason or not, he’s as disciplined as the rest of us.

“Penn’s the one who got us here today,” Rhodes says.

“It’s true. He can outlift all of us and knows he’s gotta keep us old guys on track,” Bowie says.

“Who you callin’ old?” Weston says.

Bowie shrugs and grins.

“Well, make sure you fit in some downtime in there somewhere. I want you ready to win another Super Bowl when the time comes,” Coach Evans says. He slaps my shoulder and squeezes before walking away.

“I can’t win with that guy, man,” Penn says. “You’d think by now he’d let up a little bit. He makes it sound like I’m a pervy alcoholic.”

“Agreed, it’s gone on longer than normal. But I don’t think he means too much by it,” Bowie says. “I think it’s mostly habit by now for him to give you a hard time.”

“If you say so,” Penn mutters.

The rest of the workout, I zone out and try not to think about anything but my movements, but it’s hard to get this meeting out of my mind. Once I’m done, I shower and put on jeans and a nicer shirt than I’d normally wear to a teacher conference.

“Looking good.” Rhodes nods, as I walk past him. “Let us know how it goes.”

There are a few kids still hanging out when I pull into the parking lot, but it’s mostly empty. Bree wanted to pick up the girls today since she’s been gone for the past few days, and there’s a text from her saying she’s dropped them off at home and will be here in a few minutes.

I try not to think about how empty my house is without the girls there. Bree came and got them last night when she got back in town and the silence was deafening after they left. It was nice having them to myself for a while.

When I walk down the hall, it’s quiet. I pause outside the classroom door and knock twice.

“Come in,” I hear her call.

I step inside and Tru is seated at her desk. Once again, I’m rattled by how pretty she is…and how her eyes don’t waver from mine. Without her glasses, her eyes are a punch in the chest. Her plush lips are the color of red wine and even more distracting than her eyes.

“Mr. Ward,” she says, coolly.

“Miss Seymour.” I smile. “You can call me Henley. You know, we've already established that.”

“It's not necessary,” she says. “Mr. Ward works just fine. Have a seat.” She motions for me to sit across from her.

I want to ask her if she liked the cinnamon rolls, but I don’t.

“Bree should be here any minute.” I shift in my seat, taking in the way the sunlight makes her hair so shiny. Her hair is up again and I wonder what it looks like when she takes it down at the end of the day.

“Excellent, we can wait to get started when she arrives.” Tru puts a few files aside and I can see one with Cassidy’s name on top.

“How have you been?” I ask.

She pauses and looks at me with a close-mouthed smile. Her guard is still up, but she’s a nice person, so she’s extra polite. I hate it. I want to see the uninhibited woman I met.

“I’m doing well. I'm getting settled.”

“I’m assuming you're new to town since I'm only just now seeing you everywhere I turn.” I grin and she looks down at her desk.

“Yes, I'm new to town, and I am loving Silver Hills so far.” Her cheeks deepen in color and she clears her throat. “The cinnamon rolls were?—”

Bree knocks a few seconds later and comes in looking rushed and breathless. I can tell from her expression that she's stressed. She prefers to be everywhere five minutes early, rather than coming in hot.

“I’m so sorry to be late,” she says.

“You're right on time,” Tru says, her smile wide. “I’m Tru Seymour.”

I feel cheated that I didn’t get that smile.

“I’m Bree Ward. Nice to meet you.” They shake hands and Bree sits down next to me. “Hey, Hen.” She takes a deep breath, but her posture doesn’t falter. Ever since she started her wedding planner business, I can practically see her wheels turning.

“Hey.” I smile back at her and we turn to face Tru.

“Thanks so much for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice,” Tru says. “Word hasn’t officially gotten out yet, but I’ve taken the full-time position here as an English teacher and I’ll be working hard to catch up since I’m coming on late in the school year.”

“That’s great. Congratulations,” I say.

She’s caught off guard by my comment and nods slightly. “Thank you. I’m excited to be here.” Her lips lift in the corners and she looks down at her folder. “I want to start by saying I’m enjoying having Cassidy in my class. She’s kind and she’s smart and I look forward to getting to know her better as the year progresses.”

Her lips press together and it’s difficult to appear like I’m not watching every move she makes and hanging on her every word.

“I hoped I might get some perspective from you both about Cassidy’s aversion to reading.” She looks up at Bree and then me, and it’s quiet for a moment.

“Her aversion to reading…” Bree starts.

“Maybe I should word it a different way. Cassidy hasn’t wanted to read aloud in class and when she did, it was challenging for her. Later, when I asked her about it, she said it’s hard for her…that she’s not a good reader and the kids tease her about it.”

I instantly feel sick. “The kids tease her about it? It’s true she’s never loved to read, but…I wouldn’t think of her as a bad reader.” I look at Bree, whose expression is concerned.

Tru presses ahead. “Right. I’d rather not term it as her being a bad reader either, but it does concern me that she says it’s hard. In college, one of my mentors specialized in dyslexia, and I worked closely with her. Cassidy’s project was excellent, but some of the homework she’s turned in since then, the spelling isn’t as clean, and the way she read in class and talked about it…I just wonder if she might need a little extra help.”

I feel like I’ve been dealt a blow. This news feels much worse than getting hit on the field, knowing my girl has been going through this for so long…not just the struggles with reading, but she’s being teased about it? I shift in my seat, remembering all the spelling corrections I suggested while looking over her project.

“Are you saying she’s dyslexic?” Bree asks, leaning forward. “But she knows how to read.”

“No, not yet, but I’d like to do some tests to be sure. Having dyslexia doesn’t mean you can’t read. Whether it’s the case for her or not, reading appears to be a struggle. It doesn’t come easily for her, and I’d like to help with that.” Tru’s voice is patient but firm.

“It just seems like someone would’ve noticed by now if she was dyslexic. We would’ve noticed,” Bree says. She looks at me and her eyes are watery. “We’d be horrible parents if we missed that.”

I reach out and pat Bree’s hand briefly and she lets out a shaky exhale.

“We’ve known she wasn’t a reader like Audrey…or Gracie.” I look at Tru, feeling helpless. “But I assumed she just didn’t enjoy it, not that she struggled with it.” I lean forward and my head drops. “God, how could we have missed this? We’ve talked about how long it takes her to finish doing her homework…” I look over at Bree and she looks devastated. “It’s been more of an issue in middle school. It never occurred to me that it could be this.”

“No one has ever brought this up with us before,” Bree says. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“Please don’t take this as a reflection of your parenting,” Tru says. “Kids can learn to mask these things and it does get missed more often than you’d think, especially because she can read. If she is dyslexic, she’s just having to work so much harder all the time and that can be really taxing.”

“What would we do to be sure?” I ask.

“I can do a few tests with her, and once we know for sure, I could work with her one-on-one, or we could see what other options are out there if you’d rather pursue that,” she says.

“I just—” Bree looks at me helplessly, and when she doesn’t keep going, I look at Tru.

“I’m really grateful you’ve brought this to our attention. As you can see, we’re thrown by this news. It makes me want to reexamine everything.” I rub the scruff on my jaw. “I’d like to get started on this as soon as we can.”

“She’s so busy as it is,” Bree says, shaking her head. “Does she have time for one more thing? Can’t we do something at home that will help her?”

“I think this is something we have to make time for,” I tell Bree. “And apparently we’ve missed the signs. We need help.” I give her a pointed look and she sags against the chair, nodding.

Bree loves our girls with her whole heart, but she hates to admit she needs help. With anything.

“If you’re willing, I’ll meet with Cassidy tomorrow and start trying to get to the bottom of this.” Tru pushes back from the desk.

“That sounds good. What do you need from us?” I ask.

“You could mention to her tonight that we spoke. I told her I’d like to help make reading more fun for her. Whatever you’re comfortable with is fine with me,” she says. “We don’t need to put a label on anything yet. We just want to make this a more enjoyable process for her. Let’s see what the tests show and we can go from there.”

She pauses and I nod, tapping the desk.

“I really appreciate your time,” I tell her.

“It’s my pleasure. Thank you both for fitting me into your busy schedules.” She stands and we follow suit, saying our goodbyes and walking out in a daze.

I’d wanted to see Tru again, but this isn’t anything close to how I’d hoped our next time would be.