Page 52 of True Colors

“Yes.” I put my hands on the handlebars and brace for judgment.

But he surprises me by smiling. It’s a full-blown one, too, that crinkles the edges of his eyes. “It’s very you.”

Warmth blooms inside me so suddenly that I almost lose my breath.

“See you tomorrow?” he asks as I swing my leg over the seat.

“Yes.”

I pedal away into the night, heart fluttering in a way it never has before.

CHAPTER 12

Luther

I’ve been reading more about stuttering and learning that there are many different causes and experiences—it can be developmental, neurological, genetic, or shaped by life events. In some cases, it can be linked to trauma, and it isn’t something that can just be willed away, despite what ignorant assumptions assholes like me make.

I can’t coach Anouk out of it, no matter how much I make her practice. This isn’t about self-confidence; this is physiological, a rewiring of the speech circuitry.

From what I have read, it’s not that the brain doesn’t know the words; it’s that the pathway between intention and speech gets jammed when the nervous system perceives a threat—you know, like a dickhead CEO who’s railroading you.

Muscles tighten. Airflow changes. The brain floods with cortisol.

Speech becomes the first thing to short-circuit.

So, when Anouk stutters, it’s not because she’s unsure or incompetent; it’s because some part of her nervous system is trying to protect her.

That makes me a complete dick because it’s evident that I was scaring her from the start, wasn’t I?

But that dinner, two weeks ago, fuck, it changed things between us.

I know that a big part of why she’s responding to me the way she is has nothing to do with charm or restraint and everything to do with the fact that I’m not being a jackass. And I’m not being a jackass because Finn is her brother. Not her boyfriend. Not her partner. Not the man she goes home to, laughs with, bikes with, lives with.

He’s her brother. A bond that was formed in a state home. I’ve heard the stories, and those places can be brutal. When she first mentioned it during our dinner at the diner, heartbreak uncoiled inside of me. I want to ask her more about her life, her childhood, but I don’t think we’re there yet.

She does stutter less around me, which means her brain has decided I’m safe, the guy who humiliated her on day one of meeting her.

What a fucking prince!

Her capacity to forgive despite how the world has treated her, her ability to stay positive as she does, humbles me. It also scares me, because if she trusts me even a fraction, I need to be worthy of that, and I’m not sure I am.

She smiles at me, shyly, and sometimes, she giggles.

Fuck, but that feels good to hear!

Which is ridiculous. Utterly, absolutely ridiculous.

But there you have it.

Today, during our project check-in, we bantered like regular co-workers.

Okay, so maybe not regular because the air all but crackles between us.

I also have this huge problem, that I can’t look away from her, and she arouses me merely by being there.

The situation has only escalated since then.

Her shoulders aren’t as tense around me anymore.