Page 35 of Emmy's Ride

She smirked, but then her expression softened. “What’s going on, Em?”

I hesitated, but this was Maya. If there was anyone I could be honest with, it was her.

“He’s helping me look for Luke. And…I slept with him,” I admitted quietly.

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“More than once?”

I swallowed. “Yes.”

She sat back in her chair, studying me. “And?”

I blew out a slow breath, in a stupid attempt to buy time before my next confession. “And I still love him.”

She didn’t look the least bit surprised. “Of course you do. You’ve loved him since the day you walked away.”

My throat tightened. “But it doesn’t change anything.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“I can’t go back to that life,” I said, shaking my head. “I barely survived it the first time.”

Maya was quiet for a long moment. Then, gently, “Are you sure that’s what this is about? The life? Or is it about being hurt again?”

A knock at the door saved me from having to respond. My first appointment of the day had arrived.

I stood, pushing my emotions aside and forced myself to focus on work. For the next few hours, I did just that until I stepped out of my office and found something unexpected.

Austin was sitting in one of the chairs, deep in conversation with Noah—one of my patients.

I frowned, watching them from a distance. The boy, barely seventeen, had a troubled home life, his past marred by abuse and neglect. I had spent months trying to get him to open up. And yet, here he was, talking to Austin like they had known each other forever.

Austin’s posture was relaxed, but his expression was serious. The boy nodded at something he said, eyes filled with something I couldn’t quite place.

Trust.

I brushed it off—Austin was just being nice—but I couldn’t shake the feeling that he saw more than he let on.

Before I could overthink it, I called Noah back, ending their talk and diving into work once more.

By the time lunch rolled around, I was starving, but I hadn’t packed anything. I was just about to figure out a plan when my office door opened.

Austin walked in, carrying two bags of takeout. Suspiciously, the name on the bag was Fidelia’s Restaurant. My favorite.

I blinked. “How?—?”

He set the bags on my desk. “I remember you always liked this place. Had one of the guys drop it by.” He shrugged. “Figured you wouldn’t have time to grab anything.”

My heart clenched at how he still cared for me. I’d forgotten how special he’d always made me feel. Because Austin knew. Of course, he had been paying attention.

I sat down, shaking my head. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know,” he said simply, pulling up a chair. “Eat.”

We ate together, the silence between us companionable. The chicken parmesan was to die for. The sauce was just the right amount of spicy, and the chicken was fork-tender inside and crispy on the outside. A far cry from my usual turkey sandwich and chips. And I had Austin to thank for that.

---