Page 55
“Emma, you can’t be serious,” he seethes as he slides behind the wheel and turns the car on.
“Drop it, please.”
“Ryan is an asshole. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Hearing my brother talk about Ryan that way has my protective side rising in his defense. I’m not happy with the way things were handled tonight but if I know one thing, it’s that Ryan loves me. Plus, Trey is my brother so of course, he’d take my side every time whether I was in the wrong or not.
“No, you’re wrong. Ryan loves me and I shouldn’t have been flirting.” I can feel his eyes boring into the side of my head and I turn to look at him. His face is a mask of confusion.
“Emma—”
“Please take me home, Trey.”
He sighs, watching me for another moment before he throws the car into reverse and backs out of the parking space. We’re both quiet on the ride to my house, tension filling the car, and I can tell that he’s nowhere near dropping this. Each moment that passes without him saying a word only increases my anxiousness and when he finally pulls up in front of my house, I feel like I might burst.
“Emma,” he whispers, turning to me. “I’m really starting to get concerned here and I’m not the only one.”
“We had a fight, Trey; that’s all it was. All couples fight.”
He reaches across the car and touches my cheek. “It’s not okay for him to put his hands on you.”
“I know,” I say, grabbing his hand between both of mine and squeezing. “And he and I will be discussing that but you don’t need to worry about me.”
“It’s too late for that.”
I don’t have anything else to say to him so I squeeze his hand again and grab my purse as I open the door.
“Thank you for the ride. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
He nods. “I’m holding you to that.”
After saying good-bye, I climb out of the car and sigh as I stare up at my dark house. Trey pulls away from the curb after I walk up the front walk and unlock the front door, tossing my bag on the entry table. As I walk back to my bedroom, I slip my heels off and scoop them up, dropping them into my closet as I pass it. In the bathroom, I stare at myself in the mirror and sigh again.
It will be, at least, a couple hours before Ryan comes home and I’ll go crazy if I don’t find something to keep my mind busy. My gaze shifts to the window where I can see my studio in the backyard and I decide to get as much done on my painting as I can before I have to deal with Ryan. Feeling resigned, I sweep my hair up into a bun on top of my head and grab my painting clothes – an old t-shirt covered in paint splotches and black mesh shorts. After changing, I head out to my studio and lose myself in painting.
Stepping away from the piece, I smile – pleased that I was able to get it finished after all – before glancing up at the clock and letting out a curse. It’s almost midnight and I’m sure Ryan will be home any minute – if he’s not already passed out in bed. Although, I can’t imagine he would just go to bed without talking to me first.
Walking over to the sink, I turn on the water and rinse my brushes before tossing the piece of cardboard that I had globs of paint on in the trash. When everything is clean, I turn off the lights and lock up before heading back into the house. It’s quiet when I step inside and I creep down the hallway to the bedroom, just in case he really did go to sleep without me but the empty bed confirms my suspicions and I walk back out to the living room before plopping down on the couch. Just as I’m reaching for the remote, I hear his keys slide into the lock. The door slams open and he tosses his keys in the direction of the entry table, missing by a foot, as he stumbles inside and mutters a curse.
“Ryan,” I say, keeping my voice as calm as possible while my mind runs wild with the possibilities of what he’s been doing since I left the bar and whether or not he drove home like this.
“What are you still doing up?” he sneers.
“I wanted to talk to you.”
He snorts and stumbles over to the couch, plopping down at the other end and leaning his head back against the cushion. “About what?”
“You acting like a crazy jealous asshole.”
His head shoots up and he levels a glare at me. “You were flirting with that prick.”
“No, I wasn’t.” The last few hours have given me enough time to realize that I didn’t flirt with Drew. Sure, I was friendly but he and I are friends… or, at least, we were before tonight. “He’s just a friend from high school.”
“I watched you hug him, Emma,” he accuses and I arch a brow.
“So? I’m not allowed to hug people now?”
“No,” he snaps, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back on the couch again.
