His gaze softens and he caresses my hand. “Tell me about your hip condition.”
“I’d told you before. Developmental Dysplasia of the Hip. DDH. The thorn in my side…or actually my hips, you know.”
“Yeah, I know what it’s called. But what was your experience like with it? Does it still bother you?”
I swallow hard. “Yes, it does. It locks up. Nothing like when I was a kid, but it still aches.” In fact, I’ve started taking dietary supplements that are supposed to help inflammation and joint pain. “It’s my old man hips, you know? The ones that tell me it’s going to rain. Just call me Uncle Hershel with the wonky hips.”
“I’m sorry.” He moves a lock of drying hair off my forehead. “Is there anything that can be done?”
“Not really. I do special stretches. Physical therapy sometimes, if it gets bad. I try to watch what I eat. If I stay away from inflammatory foods, that can help.”
“And so it didn’t get diagnosed until you were…?”
“Four. A risky surgery and traction and kids calling me names. The physical pain was one thing. The kids making fun of me? That was on a whole other level.”
A muscle in his jaw jumps and tightens. “Who were they?”
“What?”
“Who made fun of you?”
“I’d rather not talk about them right now…”
“Do I know them? Were there any who were my age, because I swear, if I knew them, I’ll call them right now.”
Is he being serious? Does he want to avenge the bullies of my past? Something in his gaze tells me he means what he says. My heart thuds in my throat.
“Whoa! It’s okay. It’s not—”
“No, it’s not okay.” He shakes his head. “Who were they?”
“Just a bunch of dumb boys. They grew out of it. They stopped after a while. It’s not a big deal.”
His Adam’s apple bobs once, and he jams his thumbs into his forehead, just above his eyes. “You shouldn’t have had to go through that. None of that. I’m sorry.”
“Which is why I do what I do. So others won’t have to go through the same with any number of childhood conditions. And we’re making a difference. We’ve been helping a lot of kids. It brings purpose to it all, you know?”
“You’re incredible.” Taysom slides a finger down my jaw. “Do you know that?”
“No. Just sick and tired of kids not getting the help they need, that’s all.”
“Hey, I’m sorry I Twinkied you.” His lips don’t twitch this time. “I was a fool. I had no idea—”
“I was thirteen and you were seventeen. It would have been very weird if you’d noticed me.”
“Well, I did notice you later.”
“When?”
“Sushi?” he asks, a slight cringe moving across his face. “But by then, you must have changed your mind about me.”
“No, I hadn’t changed my mind.”
“But I would have been able to tell if you were at all interested.”
Oh wow, how can spending one hour with a person years ago be perceived so differently? “I put up walls, okay? I couldn’t letyou hurt me because you were a famous football player, Taysom! I couldn’t compete with anything else in your life, not your fame or your money or status or the other women in your life. Nothing.”
“I’m really sorry you felt that way.” He shakes his head. “If I could go back in time, I would have said more to let you know I really did want to go on a date with you. You wouldn’t even give me your number.”
