Page 23 of Secrets in the Deep

“No, Ryan?—”

He was already looking, though. At the ugly, jagged scar that lived on her skin as a permanent reminder of that night.

“What happened?” he gasped.

She swallowed, the memory washing over her like a bucket of cold water. “It doesn’t matter.”

But it did toher. That night lived inside Emily, an internal wound that cut so much deeper than the one on her leg.

He started massaging her knee.

“Ryan, you don’t…” Words died on her tongue as he massaged out the ache.Oh, God.“How does that feel so good?” She closed her eyes and melted into the sofa.

When she opened them again, it was to see Ryan looking at her like he used to. Like she was his. Like he loved her. Like he’d never let her go.

“What happened, Emi?” he repeated.

One deep breath, and…

“I followed you.” The words just slipped out—and she immediately wanted to pull them back.

His hands froze, a deep frown cutting into his features. “When?”

“The night you left me. I got into my car and followed you. But it was raining, and a drunk truck driver swerved onto my side of the road. I jerked the wheel and drove off a bridge.That’show I hurt my knee.”

6

Ryan’s world narrowed to Emily. To her words. To the story that had the power to ruin him.

She’d followed him.

“Where?” The word barely escaped his constricted throat.

“It was one of those short, low-elevation bridges near my apartment. Thankfully, my window was open, so I got out, and a passerby jumped in and got me out of the water.” Her gaze lowered to where his hands sat on her knee. “But the impact of my car hitting the water basically broke my knee into pieces. I needed a few surgeries. There are pins and screws in there. Usually I can manage fine, but when I do too much running or move it the wrong way, or even when it’s cold, it can get irritated.”

He could see it. The car hitting the railing. Her inside, plunging into the water. And the pain.

She could have died. If her window hadn’t been open, she may have. Or if her leg had become stuck.

Fuck, he wanted to be sick. He’d broken up with Emilyforher. But she’d been in that car because ofhim. She’d almost diedbecause of him.

His gaze dropped to her knee again, the jagged scars burning into his brain in a way that could never be erased.

“It’s not your fault.”

His gaze shot back up at her whispered words.

There was the faint hint of tears in her eyes.

Hurt. Hurthe’dput there.

“How is this not my fault?” It was. She was in that car because ofhim.

“I was upset. It was raining. I shouldn’t have gotten into my car. And the truck driver shouldn’t have been drinking. No one could have seen all that coming.”

Heshould have seen.Heshould have known she’d follow him. Instead, he’d been too focused on his own pain. On whathe’dlost.

“You almost died.” There was a bite to his words. An anger. But also fear. A fear he wasn’t sure he’d ever shake.