Page 71 of Tides That Bind

And it didn’t matter to Nate that when it came to Riley, my distaste for him wasn’t important, the anxiety he stirred up within me was nothing. But Riley—and the chaotic way with which he lived his life—didn’t fit in myfirst comes love, then comes marriageformula. His easy going, worry-about-it-later approach to life was like a piece of my unwanted past parking illegally in my present.

I frown at the thought that maybe Nate knew I never had enough reason to hate Riley beyond my own insecurities.

I shake my head. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I mean, we’re sitting here together, right?” Riley leans back on the steps. “If it makes you feel better, I guess I was kind of wrong too.”

“Riley—”

“I didn’t think you were athreat,” he continues with a laugh. “But…yeah, it was kind of clear you thought there wasn’t a place for me here. And I guess I lumped you in with all the other people in my life who sort of always thought the same thing.”

There’s a softness to Riley’s voice as he tightropes along the fine line of vulnerability. “Who?” I ask, gently.

Riley gives a half shrug. “I guess you told me about your secret circus life, so maybe I should tell you about mine.”

I lean forward and tease, “You were a clown, weren’t you?”

Riley snorts. “No. My secret isn’t so interesting.”

“You already told me you passed the Bar,” I remind him.

“Yeah,” Riley says, “What you don’t know is I passed it on the third time. And that’s not because I’m not smart, or because, I don’t know, maybe you have an idea in your head that I stayed out way too late the night before and woke up on the beach with sand down my—”

“I didn’t think that.”

Riley passes me a playful smirk and lifts a finger. “That was only the second time.”

I smack his arm even though I can’t tell if he’s joking.

“No, it took me so long because I’m…dyslexic. And I struggle with it. Even as an adult.”

My first thought is that Riley’s secret doesn’t seem to be like the kind of thing he should feel the need to keep to himself. But then, I realize, I don’t really know all that much about dyslexia, apart from a few handouts from Lucas's school early on in the year about what to look for at home. And if I’m being honest, I don’t even remember what those notices said.

“I don’t test well,” Riley continues. “Never have. Not on a second-grade spelling test or the Bar.”

I gnaw on my lip for a moment. “So, reading is difficult?”

“It’s more than difficult and it’s more than reading,” Riley tells me. “Yeah, letters are difficult, so reading is hard. And there’s lots of tips and tricks you should pick up along the way, but I wasn’t even diagnosed until my senior year in high school. Before that…”

“Before that, what?”

“Everyone thought I was stupid. Especially, my father.”

I flinch from Riley’s words, as if the hurt I imagine himfeeling is my own. Because I’m a parent. And parents are kids’ first—and most important—cheerleaders. You applaud along with them when they learn to clap with chubby hands, nearly scare them with your enthusiasm after they take their first steps. Parents celebrate the first and last days of school, because they’re proud of not just all the accomplishments leading up to the days, but the possibilities as well. I can’t imagine calling Lucas stupid. I can’t imagine ripping away at just one ounce of confidence I’ve loved watching him gain.

“But, law school, becoming a lawyer. Yeah, there was some pretty heavy pressure to do that. I felt vindicated by the diagnosis, but it changed nothing for him. Truth be told, I went to law school at night. It took me five years. And…yeah, I don’t read all that great, but I can still learn. Took me two years to realize if someone read the material out loud, it was way easier for me. I paid people to do it. Nate did it.” Riley lifts his head as he laughs. “Before he was stationed in North Carolina he narrated all of my damn Tortes book and only asked for a six-pack of beer and a burger.”

The smile hurts, but I can’t fight it. Because that’s exactly something Nate would do.

“And he helped me again. This time with the Bar.” Riley takes a deep breath. “All those nights last summer we’d be out late, we were at the library.”

I press my lips together. “The library?”

Riley scratches his head. “I didn’t…I don’t like people knowing this stuff about me because if it turns out not to go my way, it gives them a reason to look down on me.”

“Did…did you thinkIwould look down on you?”

Riley raises his eyebrows.

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