Page 12 of The Truth of Our Secrets

Thankfully, Alec is upfront at the reception desk. “Jayce is in the car and you’re coming with us.” I stop dead in my tracks. “Emmet.”

Emmet whispers, “You came after all.”

I almost don’t believe my eyes. I’ve been stalking his social media, and he hasn’t posted since the night he spent in our apartment. Now he’s at Unframed Art, standing in the hall where all the individual tattoo rooms are. He’s pulling on a jacket and his eyes flick to Alec.

“Mads, relax. I’m going with Em,” Alec says, oblivious to the situation.

Emmet visibly shakes when he realizes I’m not there for him.

“Fuck this,” Emmet barks and stalks past me, banging both doors open on his way out.

“You and Em know each other? How?” he asks.

“His name is Emmet. Why didn’t you tell me he works here?” I accuse.

I can’t listen to his explanation with the sound of my blood roaring in my head. My hands shake as I furiously text Jayce. I’m livid Alec didn’t tell me about Emmet.

“Fuck. Fuckity, fuck, fuck!” My fingers won’t type and I give up sending the message.

“How do you know Em?”

“I was his teacher,” I reply. Emmet’s pissed at me! That’s insane. Alec is still talking, but I need answers.

What the ever-loving fuck is happening? Emmet must work here.

Rushing out, I realize I never told Alec about my history with Emmet. Alec had been drowning in depression, and I didn’t want to add to his troubles.

Bypassing the rideshare with Jayce, I sprint, unsure if I’m going in the right direction until I see him vanish around the corner. Damn, I would kill for a pair of sneakers.

My phone blows up with Jayce’s concern that I took off without him.

I chase Emmet down a side street. I have zero shame as I scream his name. If he wants to avoid me, he’s going to tell me why to my face. After all I did for him, I deserve that. He’s not ghosting me again.

His posture stiffens when he hears me. I expect him to pick up the pace, but he turns around and stalks toward me.

“What kind of game are you playing?” he demands.

“You left and you’re mad at me?!” I’m yelling and I don’t care. It’s New York City, so people don’t even spare us a glance. I take his elbow and lead him to an alcove away from pedestrians.

“You didn’t text me back. So what did you expect from me? I’m not some pity project from your first job.” His words are venomous, and they do their job of hurting me.

It takes a minute to process what he said because he’s so angry and I’ve never seen this side of him. He’s so sweet and even-tempered that I can’t believe I’m the one he’s mad at.

“I never got a text. You left without a word. Don’t be upset with me.” I poke him in the chest. “I deserve better than that.”

“You’re going to pretend I didn’t text you? You left me on read.” He warily takes a step away and his back hits the brick wall.

“I don’t have a text.” I pull out my phone and shove it at him. “Scroll through. You’ll see.”

“Let me try something.” He types in his phone and mine pings.

There it is, a message from him, and he turns his phone so I can see it. And there are a couple of other messages that don’t show on my phone.

“See.” I wave my phone in his face. “There must’ve been a tech glitch or something. It’s not my fault.”

He’s not angry anymore, but he’s looking at me as if I’m an idiot. “I put my name in your phone. Who does the text say it’s from?”

I bite my lip, confused. “I don’t understand how this could happen. What’s wrong with my phone? I should take it to the Apple store.”

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