She curled her legs beneath her and clasped his hand in hers. “Wherever you’re comfortable. I’m listening.”
He ducked his head, not meeting her gaze as he began to speak. “I wasn’t the easiest child, and I mean that seriously as well as literally.”
“Geniuses rarely are,” she said, hoping to lighten the moment.
His mouth lifted, and she caught sight of the dimple she thought was so hot.
“The thing is, my mother didn’t think I was smart. She didn’t think I was anything but an annoyance she didn’t want to deal with.”
She gasped, unable to hold back her horrified reaction.
A muscle worked in his jaw as he spoke, and suddenly she hated a woman she’d never even met.
“It’s okay. I’ve accepted it.” His laugh was harsh. “Anyway, you saw the picture of my brother, right?”
“Yeah.” She held her breath, grateful for the information he’d chosen to share.
“Jeffrey. He’s younger than me, and he was so much easier. Your golden child.”
“There’s no such thing,” she said softly, still holding his hand in hers.
“Tell that to her.” His body jerked inadvertently. “Apparently I came into the world with colic, and it went downhill from there.” He breathed more heavily now, the admission obviously painful. “I had problems in school, difficulties making friends, trouble concentrating, and then there’s anxiety. None of which was diagnosed back then. So she constantly told me I was a pain in the ass, that she wished I was more like my brother, and in the end, she chose Jeffrey.”
Lexie narrowed her gaze. “How so?”
“My parents divorced … and my loving mother took my brother and moved to England, never to be heard from again.”
“Oh, Kade.” No wonder he’d reacted so strongly when he’d found her with the photo.
“You know the strange thing? I never resented Jeffrey. Not once. I looked up to him.”
“I’m sure he felt the same way about you.”
Kade shrugged. “I’ll never know.”
“Have you ever reached out?” she asked.
“No. I wasn’t about to set myself up for rejection.”
More rejection, she thought, grasping his hand harder. She swallowed hard, unsure of what to say.
“But back to what you asked me, about the pizza and the mess?”
She waved away the question. It no longer mattered, in light of everything else.
“The answer is, I don’t know. I can’t control what my brain chooses to obsess over. And the medicine I take helps a lot. So did the CBT sessions.”
“CBT?”
“Cognitive behavioral therapy. It helps solve problems and change thinking patterns.” He shrugged, jerking out of her grasp, obviously embarrassed.
“Don’t pull away from me.”
“You should go.” He rose from the bed. He wore only a pair of track pants, and his bare chest heaved heavily as he breathed. “You will eventually. Might as well—”
“No.” Instead of being insulted, she understood. Enough people had left her for her to recognize the same fear in him.
She climbed out of bed. Coming up beside him, she placed a hand on his shoulder, the muscles hard and tense beneath her palm.