Page 3 of The Truth of Our Secrets

It’s almost a relief when the sliders appear at our table. He likes burgers unless he’s become a vegetarian in the past four years.

“Here.” I pick up two and plop them on his plate. “You’ll want some,” I insist.

As his lips turn up, Jayce’s hand flexes on the table and all traces of Emmet’s smile disappear. At least he eats the burgers and his fries. Without a word, I place another one on his plate. Jayce doesn’t eat a lot of red meat. A preference left over from his playing days.

Emmet continues to answer my questions with shrugs or a single word. Usually I can carry the conversation, but there’s a heaviness I can’t slog through. It’s so strained that I suppose inviting him to eat with us was a bad idea.

I failed to consider his reasons for cutting me out of his life years ago. I thought we’d forged a friendship beyond student and teacher. Maybe I was so broken, I’d made it up. I drink twoglasses of wine, but they don’t provide any clarity. Wine usually opens my mind, so I can see things intuitively.

I assumed the past was a fluke, that he didn’t do it on purpose. That he lost his phone and couldn’t get a new one. But now I’m not so sure.

His phone rings as the server clears our dishes. He glances at it like he’s going to dismiss it but swears.

“It’s my boss. He’s texted twice. I should get this.” He stands and motions toward the back hall. “I’ll be right back. Tell me how much I owe you.”

“We should pay the bill and go. It’s getting late.” Jayce hands the server his credit card with a nod of thanks.

“I need to say goodbye.” I panic, unwilling to leave Emmet.

“Baby girl, it’s obvious you care about him, but dinner was brutal. His indifference hurts you. Maybe it’s best to let him go.” Jayce massages the back of my neck.

I sigh because he’s not wrong. But I can’t walk away from Emmet Asher.

“Okay. Let me say a quick goodbye and we can go. I want to get in the studio early anyway.”

Emmet’s running his hands through his hair and pacing when I reach him.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asks, talking into the phone. “Are you sure?” A pause, “He was supposed to meet me but canceled.” Another pause. “You’re sure?”

A group of tipsy women cling to each other, shouting excitedly as they walk by.

“I can’t hear you. Can you text me?” Emmet asks and pulls the phone away from his ear, sighing.

“Is everything alright?” I ask, and he starts in surprise.

“Hey, yeah, no big deal.” He reads his screen. “A pipe burst in my apartment.”

“Your boss called about that?” I ask, trying to wrestle some answers out of him.

“He’s also my landlord. I gotta find somewhere to sleep tonight while they clean it up. He says he doesn’t need my help.”

“He’s not putting you up for the night?” My voice kicks up a notch, and the anger bleeds through.

“What, you think the guy’s gonna get me a room at the Ritz-Carlton?”

I sputter nonsense because no, I didn’t think that, but he’s laughing.

“You should see your face right now. Did you forget how to recognize a joke?”

I swat his arm. “Not having a place to sleep isn’t a joke.”

“Worse things have happened.” He shrugs.

And my heart cracks wide open. He suffered unbearable torment as a teen, and I’d been powerless. But I can help with this.

“You’re coming home with us.” I grab his arm and refuse to take no for an answer.

Chapter two

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