Page 46 of Secrets in the Deep

Slowly, she did. Because there was a power in his voice she couldn’t ignore.

“Arms up.”

That deep rumble had her lifting her arms. His gaze didn’t leave hers as he tugged her top over her head.

He pulled the sheets down, and she dropped back to the mattress again. He popped the top button of her jeans, then slid the zipper down.

It was funny, if any other man had driven her home drunk, then proceeded to undress her, she would have screamed. But with Ryan, there was nothing but trust. Trust that she was safe with him.

Physically, at least.

Once her jeans were off, he pulled the sheets over her. The bed dipped as he perched at her side. “How are you feeling?”

She was quiet for a moment. Then, “What do you think would have happened if you hadn’t broken up with me?”

The question dropped from her tongue into the air with a bang like a stone hitting glass.

“What do you mean?”

She opened her eyes and let herself memorize his dark chocolate gaze. “Would we live in a house with floral wallpaper and peach-colored kitchen tiles? Would I spend my mornings watering the scarlet-red Indian paintbrushes and offering acting classes, while you rescued people from the forest?” Pain burned through her chest at the image. A hurt that only came from devastating loss. Loss of the life that she felt in her soul was supposed to be hers.

His dark eyes flickered between hers. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t lie. You know the memories we would have made. The life we would have created. Does it hurt you too? Knowing everything we could have had, but don’t?”

He was silent for so long that she thought he might ignore the question. Avoid it. Change the subject.

Instead, he slipped a piece of hair from her cheek and whispered, “Yeah, Emi. It hurts. It’s possibly the worst pain I’ve ever had to endure.”

She closed her eyes. There was both validation and devastation in that statement. He knew. They both knew.

The haze of alcohol mixed with exhaustion began to tug her under. “I think it’ll always hurt.”

“Emi, I’m?—”

The ding of his phone cut him off.

She opened her eyes and watched as he pulled out his cell and glanced at the screen. “What is it?”

“The guys need me.”

“Go.” The single word felt heavy. She didn’t want him to go. She wanted him to slip between the sheets and hold her. Let her believe, just for one night, that she could have him.

But he wasn’t hers to keep.

His gaze bore into hers. Then he lowered his head and let his lips linger on her temple. “You were the best thing that ever happened to me, Emi.”

He rose and left. And even as the door clicked closed with a resounding thud, one word repeated in her mind—were.

Not are. Not present tense.

Were.

11

Ryan sped toward the movie set, his fingers tight around the wheel.

He needed to get his head in the game. To focus on his job. Someone was missing. He had to think aboutthat. Not Emily and her soft, sad eyes. Not the words she’d said tonight about the alternative life she’d spoken about.