Page 9 of Wrecked With You

For one thing, his sister-in-law Sylvia is Cassidy Cunningham’s best friend. And since this isn’t a work party, it makes sense that Sylvia’s here—with Cass in tow. Even if the party were an official work function for Stark Security, Cass might come as a guest. She and Denny had become good friends in the years that Denny’s husband, Mason, had been gone. Denny’s one of the first agents recruited for Stark Security, and damn good, too. She’s also got a baby bump, and I wonder how the SSA will get along without her when she takes her leave.

A shudder runs through me as I think about all she endured. I have no desire to settle down, but that doesn’t mean I can’t empathize with the nightmare of having her husband go missing. And then came the cherry on that horrible sundae when he returned with absolutely no idea who she was.

The whole thing was horrifying. And maybe even one more reason not to get too attached to people. I’ve spent my life worrying about Eliza. And I’m honestly not sure there’s room in my heart for more potential fear and pain.

And love?

The little voice comes out of nowhere and I push it down. I’ve somehow developed a sappy side ever since Eliza and Quince got back together, and sappy isn’t a good look for me. Not at all.

“Earth to Emma.”

I shake my head as if clearing cobwebs. “Sorry. Honestly, I didn’t expect to see you here, either. I hope it’s not awkward.”

Cass dismisses my words with a wave, then slips off her sandals and sits on the edge of the pool, her feet dangling in the water, too. She looks amazing, as always. Her hair is platinum blonde today, and she wears no jewelry other than a small nose ring. Her top is sleeveless, so I can still see most of the exotic bird tattooed on her shoulder, its vibrant tail feathers cascading down her arm. “Nah, I’m good,” she says. “Still friends, right?”

I meet her eyes. “Always.”

“I get why you bolted. I just wish we could have talked about it.”

I let a shoulder rise and fall. “It was three months ago. Water under the bridge.” No way am I going to talk about my feelings. And definitely not about how Cass had messed up a perfectly good friends-with-benefits thing by suggesting we get serious. I probably should have expected it. Cass is the type who wants a steady partner. I’m not.

Cass sighs.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just hope that someday you find someone you can really talk to. Someone other than Eliza, I mean.”

I keep my mouth shut. I know she means well, but so what if I don’t want to get all deep and open and share my shit? That isn’t who I am. It isn’t who I want to be. And if I ever do need to vent, I really do have Eliza, who loves me and will always be there for me. And why can’t that be enough?

“Right,” Cass says, standing as my silence lingers. “You should start doing girls’ night at your house again. Even if you don’t invite me.”

“Stopping had nothing to do with you.” I used to host weekly girls’ nights for the women who now surround Eliza by virtue of moving permanently to LA to be with Quincy. I’d put on my perky hostess personality and try to be bubbly. Over the years, I’ve developed a lot of different personalities. And it’s best to keep them all in practice. After all, who knows when I’ll have to become someone else for a job. Or to hide.

“Truly,” I add, since Cass’s expression is dubious. “I’ve been doing an out of town job for most of the last three months.” The job had been for myself—gathering the intel on what Cane was up to so that I could go to my old boss and propose the hit. In exchange for covering for me, the SOC would get the intel I gathered about Cane’s clients. “Since Eliza’s picked up the slack, I didn’t think to start having them at my house again.”

“Fair enough,” Cass says. “I just wanted to make sure we were good.”

“We are. Totally.”

Cass frowns and I almost sigh. Surely we’re not going to have to go another round of touchy-feely talk. But then she says, “Check that out.”

I realize the frown is meant for something behind me, and I turn, then draw in a sharp breath when I see him.

Not that I know him, the guy with the dark hair, haunted eyes, and just enough beard stubble to give him a cavalier edge. I don’t know why, but something about him seriously pushes my buttons. “Nice,” I say. “Who is he?” He’s talking with Damien, so I assume he must be a party guest.

“His name’s Antonio Sanchez.”

“You know him?”

Cass shakes her head. “I was nearby when he came in. The guard working the garden entrance asked for his name and ID before calling Damien.”

“Interesting,” I say, and Cass laughs.

“What’s funny?”

A grin tugs at her mouth. “I’m just relieved. We really must be out of the weirdness and back in the friend zone if you’re going gaga over some guy while you’re standing right next to me.”

“Not gaga. Just admiring the view.”