Page 21 of Secrets in the Deep

God, that night…thatfuckingnight.

He hung his head.

How many times had he questioned his decision over the years? Whether it had been right or wrong? Whether he’d change anything if he had the chance to do it all again?

He often said he would. Because the loss of her had felt so profound.

But seeing her today, witnessing her talent…he remembered all over againwhyhe’d done it. Because when she performed, the world fell quiet. And any lucky bastard who got to see the magic couldn’t help but watch. Hold their breath. Get transported to wherever she decided to take them.

And it wasn’t just that she was good. It was that she’dwantedthis. How many times during their five months of dating had she talked about her dream of being a career actor?

Every day.

He turned off the water and had just dried himself and pulled on jeans when the doorbell rang.

It was one of the guys. It had to be. Word had no doubt spread about what had happened during filming, and because Ryan hadn’t gotten back to their texts, one of them was checking if he was okay.

Probably Ethan. He was kind of the dad of the team. Or was it Joel, the joker? Yeah, more likely Joel…sent to lighten the mood.

He pulled on a shirt and jogged downstairs. He didn’t even bother looking through the peephole before tugging it open. “I’m fine. There’s no need?—”

He stopped. Not Ethan. Not Joel. Not any of the guys.

“Emi.”

She shouldn’t be here.She shouldn’t be doing this. She definitely shouldn’t have snuck out of the inn after lying to her mother about going to bed early.

Every warning silenced, though, as she climbed from her car and walked up the path. Because this wasn’t the house she’d been expecting. Ryan liked dark, masculine tones. He liked timber and metal. This house had a white wraparound porch. It had a pale pink mailbox and a flower garden with lavender and fireweed.

Her steps faltered at the sight of the bright scarlet-red Indian paintbrushes. Her favorite. She’d had pots of them in her apartment in California, back when she’d met Ryan. She’d even told him that when she had a house, they were going to line her front yard.

For some reason, emotion clogged her throat. Because just for a second, she wondered if these were for her…

She shook her head. What a stupid thought. He hadn’t been in Deep River for long. He’d probably just bought the place without thinking twice about the flowers in the garden.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she headed up the steps, muscles tightening at the ache in her knee.

She should be in her room at the inn, icing it. Heck, she should be resting after almost drowning.

So why are you here, Emily?

On a deep inhale, she lifted her hand, and the second her finger hit the doorbell, she stepped back.

This was a bad idea. Nothing good could come from this.

She turned and got two steps down when the click of the door opening sounded. She glanced over her shoulder. And that spell, that same damn spell he always cast on her, wove through her body once again.

“Emi.”

The nickname slipped beneath her skin, stirring feelings she’d spent years burying. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.”

Other than the intensity in his dark brown eyes, his expression was completely unreadable. “Come in.” He stepped back.

“I shouldn’t. I need?—”

“Come in, Emi. Please.”

There was something about thepleasethat tugged at her heart. A quiet desperation behind it. A longing that maybe matched her own.