Page 44 of Secrets in the Deep

She downed half her glass in one go before setting both of them back on the bar and taking his hand. Then she dragged him to the dance floor. There was only one group of middle-aged women already there.

Emily stopped right in the center, wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest. “Hm. This is better. The world was swaying a bit before.”

He held her, taking a lot of her weight as he rocked. “Tell me what happened between you and your mom, Emi. Please.”

“She made sure that what you broke stayed broken.”

He frowned. “How?”

“She lied. Said she called you after the accident. She didn’t.” Emily looked up, her eyes somehow both glazed and clear at the same time. Tired and angry and sad all at once. “Would you have answered?”

“If she’d called me?”

“Yes. If she’d called you the day after you broke up with me. If she’d told you that I needed you, would you have come?”

He shifted his gaze between her eyes. Eyes that held his entire heart captive. “I don’t know if I would have had the strength not to.”

Tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them back.

Then she leaned her head on his chest again. “You know, I’ve lived my entire life with people thinking they know what’s best for me. You. My mother. Producers and casting agents. Everyone makes these huge, life-altering decisions on my behalf and dresses them up as kindness—you deserve better, you’re too talented to do anything else, this is for the best. But what no one realizes, or maybe no one cares about, is that while they’re all praising me, they’re also telling me that I’m not capable of deciding anything for myself.”

“Emi—”

“I think I’m done.”

“Done with what?”

“Letting anyone else dictate the life I want to live.” She glanced at him again. “She blocked your number on my phone. Then she changed your contact to a different number.”

Anger sliced through him like a knife. “Shewhat?”

“Yeah. She’s a bitch. But Iknewshe was a bitch. She’s been that way my entire life. But you? I expected more from you.”

Guilt. Pain. Both hit him like a kick to the gut.

He tightened his arms around her, as if she might slip from his grasp like sand through his fingers.

From his peripheral vision, he saw some women whispering and taking photos. He ignored them. “Can I take you home?”

“I should say no.” She sighed and leaned into him again. “But in the name of making my own decisions, you’re comfy…and I just don’t care about what I should or shouldn’t be doing right now.”

Warmth.It soaked into Emily’s side, making her lean even closer.

Ryan’s arm cinched tight around her waist as they walked toward the door to the bar.

People watched. Whispered and stared with phones in their hands.

She was used to it.

She glanced up at Ryan. “Did you get taller?”

“Do Ifeeltaller?”

“No. You feel exactly the same.”

His brows knit together. He didn’t like that comment. Why? It was true, and with the buzz of alcohol slipping through her veins, she couldn’t seem to sensor her thoughts or her words.

Outside, he stopped at his truck in the lot, and before she realized what he was doing, he’d lifted her into the passenger seat.