“The ADHD ones? Hailey sent me the links.” Anne angled her chin, glancing at him sideways. “I watched them all.”
“No, yeah.”Thosevideos. His sister had been obsessedwith them for weeks before their mom finally made the appointment with the doctor on the mainland. “Thanks. She needs somebody to talk to besides her therapist. I’m glad it’s you.”
“I’m glad she sent me the links. They explain a lot.”
“That’s what Hailey said.”
“About me.”
Joe was silent. Better than saying the wrong thing.
Anne combed her fingers through her hair, fisting it into a ponytail. “I always thought I was…different. I’m late all the time. I have trouble finishing projects. I get stuck in my head, and I forget things, and I never know when to shut up. Now I’m thinking…I’m wondering if maybe I should get tested or something.”
He had no idea. Hailey had been struggling for a long time. But Anne…Hell. He cleared his throat. “Would it make any difference?”
“To know?” Anne shook her head, releasing her hair to the wind. “I don’t know. Would it make a difference to you? If I have ADHD?”
“I told you, I don’t care about labels. If you think it would help you to go in for a diagnosis, do it. But putting a name on something doesn’t change it. You’re still…”
“A mess? A pest?”
“You,” he said simply. “There’s nobody like you, Anne.”
She snorted. “Well, that’s something.”
It was everything. Why didn’t she see?
Her eyes focused on his face with painful intensity, as if she were searching for…what? He fisted his hands in his pockets, desperate to give it to her, whatever it was. “I’m just saying, there’s nothing wrong with you.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“I mean it.”
Color came and went in her cheeks. “I know.” She sighed and stood on tiptoe to kiss him, a brush of lips like a butterfly’s wing. “It’s nice of you to say, anyway.”
He watched her turn and start down the hill, aware that he’d screwed up somehow. He’d reassured her, he told himself. That was what he was supposed to do, right? He reviewed their conversation in his head. “There’s nothing wrong with you.” “Nice of you to say.”
Fuck.
This wasn’t about him being nice. It wasn’t about him saying the right thing. Or anything. It wasn’t about him at all. This was about Anne. About her feeling heard.
“Anne.”
She stopped on the path, the thin, straight line of her spine almost quivering in her impatience to be gone.
“Whatever you do…it’s your decision,” he said gruffly to her back. “But I’m here. If you want to talk.” Not his strong point. “Or whatever.”
She whirled around, her face alight, and threw herself into his arms.
Relief washed through him. He could do this. He wanted to do this. He held her tight, absorbing the feel of her, sharp bones and soft curves and trembling energy. “Hey. It’s okay.” Shit, was she crying? He patted her back awkwardly. “Anne?”
She raised her wet, shining eyes to his. “I don’t have to talk. I just need to know you’ll listen.”
“Anytime.”
“And that you trust me to figure it out.”
“Yeah, of course.”
