Page 54 of Secrets in the Deep

Broken. Exhausted. Completely shattered. That’s how he felt. Yet he couldn’t steer himself away from this ruin that he’d created.

“Don’t.” The word was barely a whisper. “Don’t do this.”

Take it back. Take her in your arms and make this better, you idiot.

Again, he didn’t listen to the warning. He’d passed the point of sanity.

“Goodbye, Emi.” He leaned down and touched his lips to her forehead, then he walked out, leaving his shredded heart with Emily.

Ryan shot awake, the dream, the memory making sweat break out on his brow.

Shit…he hated thinking about that day. He hated dreaming about it. He hated that it would always exist inside him because his brain never let him forget.

It had been a week since he’d tucked Emily into bed at the inn. A week of trying to keep his distance because being near her and knowing she’d never be his was becoming too hard.

And in that week, he’d had this fucking dream every night. Ever since she’d told him her mother had blocked his number and changed his contact information.

He pushed off the sheets and jumped out of bed. He needed to run. He needed to do something,anything,to get her out of his head. Otherwise he’d just think about her all damn day.

Emily pushed friedrice around on her plate. The restaurant was loud, though she barely heard it.

Usually, she loved Chinese food. It was probably her top dinner choice, closely followed by Thai and pizza, because who didn’t love pizza?

But there was something about her mother leaning against the table and charming the pants off every person there—Roscoe, Preston, and Faye, a couple of film crew—that just completely wiped her appetite.

Clearly, Melanie Prior had been born to act too. The fact that she could switch so effortlessly from evil, meddling mother—who lied and connived and blocked numbers on her daughter’s phone—to this extroverted storyteller was actually impressive.

She dropped the fork to her plate and fiddled with the napkin in her lap, trying not to let her mother’s voice grind on her nerves.

A week had passed since their fight on set. And not even an hour later, her mother had acted like nothing had happened. Hell, the very next morning, she’d just waltzed into Emily’s trailer and started talking about some dream she’d had.

“You remember, don’t you, darling?” Her mother touched her arm.

Emily smiled and nodded. But it wasn’t her usual perfectly symmetrical one. It probably came across as wonky. Maybe even a bit unhinged.

As her mother continued talking, Faye leaned in on her other side. “Are you okay? You’re tearing apart that napkin like it’s done you dirty.”

She looked down, and yep, it was in pieces.

“I’m fine, just tired.” She dropped the napkin.

Preston scoffed from the other side of Faye. “Well, maybe your boyfriend will bring you back to life.”

Emily frowned. What was he…

She sighed when she saw him.

Ryan stepped inside the Chinese restaurant.

And holy hell, he looked good. His gray hoodie made his broad shoulders look wider than usual, and even through his jeans, she could see the power in his thighs.

His brows flickered at the sight of her. One dip of his chin, a silent hello, then he moved to the counter. He wasn’t going to come over and say hello.

She wasn’t sure if she felt relieved or sad about that.

She shouldn’t be surprised. They’d barely spoken in the last week. But he’d always been there, on site, watching her scenes.

Faye leaned in again and whispered, “I think he likes you.”