Page 26 of Her Dirty Secret

He smiles. “Yeah, but only because my sister couldn’t stay out of it. But if you try to do that to her, she’ll close up more. I know her. It has to be him. And he has to be unflinchingly patient and steadfast. Trust me.”

I close my hand over his. “I do. Though I’m still not sure why you’d want to help Alessandro win her back.”

He frowns. “If that’s what makes my sister happy, who am I to stand in the way?”

I run my finger along his pouting lips, then replace it with my mouth. This man. When I pull away, he looks considerably less upset.

“You are the most amazing man I’ve ever known. I love you, Bryce Hoyt.”

He graces me with his sunshine smile. “Love you too, baby. Now, if we’re done talking about my sister, I need to be buried in you. Now.”

He flips me onto my back next to him, grinding against me as I giggle in protest.

“No! Don’t! Stop!” I screech amid the laughter.

His hand slips under my panties, stroking me. The sudden assault has me bowing into him in pleasure.

“Ohhh, don’t stop,” I moan with another giggle.

His mouth moves to my breast, teasing my nipple through my shirt. And I can’t remember for the life of me what we were talking about.

Later that evening, though, when I’m no longer distracted, I call Alessandro. I can tell he’s in shock that Bryce would so readily approve. I don’t bother explaining that it’s not exactly approval. But that if he really wants to get through to Emily, Bryce isn’t standing in the way. And I relay exactly what Bryce told me he’d need to do. While I’m tempted to share why she’s holding back, it’s not my place. But I warn him that she’s been hurt before, that it might take time, but not to give up if she’s what he really wants. Unsure of whether he actually plans on pursuing her, I realize it’s time for me to step back. The rest is up to Alessandro.

Seven

Emily

I stare at the plate of food for a full fifteen minutes before dumping it in the garbage. Can’t say I haven’t been trying. I take another sip of vodka from the bottle on the counter. It’s worse this time. So much worse. I barely hear it when they knock anymore. Mom. Aunt Char. Bryce. Chad.

I settle onto the couch, absently picking up the guitar sitting there, strumming mindlessly. I can’t bring myself to play anything else lately. Endlessly replaying that night.

Sometimes it makes me angry. Sometimes it makes me sad. But right now, I’m just numb. Thank you, vodka.

I think about leaving. But with no car, that leaves me with airplanes, boats, or trains. And I hate trains. Slow, cramped, and smelly. And airplanes are out of the question. Too many memories now. Maybe boats. But that would take effort I don’t have to give right now. Damned in any case.

A sharp pain wakes me, and I look down. My index finger is bleeding from the endless strumming. I almost laugh. Good. Bleed, little finger. Let it all out.

I know I need to talk to someone, anyone. But to be honest with them, I’d have to be honest with myself. And that’s just not worth it. None of it is worth it. Especially not him. Bastard.

I keep strumming. I keep bleeding. But I don’t really care.

At some point there’s a knock again. Not having kept track, I have no idea which of my regular tormenters it is, not that it matters.

Knock. Knockity-knock. Knockity-knock-knock-knock. I strum quietly in time with the beat.

“Emily, I can hear you.”

It’s Him. I stop strumming. I stop myself from yelling at him to go away. He will. And he doesn’t need to know how drunk I am.

“Please, Cara Mia. I should’ve come after you sooner. You must know I didn’t do what you think I did. It wasn’t me in there with her, I swear it.”

I laugh out loud, then clap a hand over my mouth. It’s silent for a moment.

“I know you don’t believe me. It sounds so trite. But it’s true.” His sigh is audible through the door. Oh, he’s good. Excellent performance.

“There’s so much I want to tell you,” he continues. I tip my head back and forth. Doesn’t matter. Still can’t. Won’t. Whatever. “I almost wrote you a letter. But I knew you’d tear it up the instant I slipped it under your door.”

I smile. He’s not wrong.