“Honey.” Eric sets his tea on the bottom rung of the ladder, touching my knee. “You’re a classic case. I thought… I just assumed you knew.”
I stare at him in shock. “What are you talking about?”
His eyes swim with compassion. “It’s not a bad thing, Iris. It’s just who you are.”
“But… why would you…”
“Come on.” He motions around us, to the crocheted blanket over the back of the chair, the scented candles on the windowsill, the macrame plant holder hanging in the corner, not quite finished. “The hobby-hopping is a dead giveaway.”
I lift my chin. “What’s wrong with having lots of hobbies?”
“Nothing. Only… how many do you still actuallydo?”
I shrink, looking down at my tea. It’s not my fault they all got boring the minute I learned them.
“And if I opened that closet by the front door,” Eric continues, lips twitching, “would an avalanche of shit bury me?”
I huff. “How doesthatequal ADHD?”
“It doesn’t on its own,” he says, gentler now, “but when you add it to being late, forgetting things, getting distracted, feelingoverwhelmed, the emotional rollercoaster…” He softens. “All the trouble you had in college.”
I lean forward as he rattles off a list of all my worst traits.That’swhat ADHD is?
“How do you know all this?”
He lifts a shoulder. “My ex had it.”
I study Eric, surprised by his casual reaction. As if it didn’t bother him in the slightest. Unless…
“Is that why you broke up?” I ask, and he shakes his head.
“No. He moved to Chicago, and I hate long-distance.”
Huh.
“So… you think…” I swallow, trying to get the words out. “You think I have… it.”
Eric gazes at me for a long moment, expression gentle. “I’m not a doctor, obviously, but yes. And if you haven’t been aware… honey, that’s rough. You deserve to get support.”
I sink into the chair, forcing the air from my lungs. I was so shaken by the events of this morning, so humiliated at overhearing Aidan say something sopersonalbehind my back, so terrified that he thought there was something wrong with me, that I didn’t stop to consider there could be some truth to his words.
Or maybe that’s what shook me the most. That he’d seen this in me before I’d even seen it in myself. That he sees me so deeply, and there’s nowhere for me to hide.
You struggle sometimes, sweetheart, and it’s not your fault.Maybe there’s a reason.
Tears fill my eyes again. I’ve tried so hard not to let him see me struggle, but he saw it anyway, and instead of blaming me, like everyone else in my life—teachers, friends, Dad—he’s seen something else. He’s seen a deeper reason beyond simply a personal failing.
He’s seen the real me.
My heart cracks as this realization settles, because none of that changes what he did. Telling myfatherbefore he even told me. Blurting it out for the entire office to hear.
I stare into my tea, chest raw. Even if he’s right, I don’t know how to come back from the way he said it.
36
AIDAN
Iwill never forgive myself.
