Page 111 of Tapped

Everything is intense and heightened. Like I’m under a microscope.

Every-fucking-thing.

I’ve avoided it for over a decade.

I look at my watch. It’s late.

My phone vibrates.

Evita – Chase is showered and asleep.

Damn.

Me – Good, baby. Do you need anything?

Bubbles tease me before they disappear and reappear again.

Then gone.

Me – Evie.

It’s a demand. I need to know.

This time I don’t get one bubble. Just one word.

Evita – Yes.

That’s all I need.

I pick up the shovel and cover the last of the embers with dirt. There’s another fire I need to deal with.

The one flaming within me.

Me – Be ready.

26

STAY

Evie

My damp hair flips over my shoulder when I spin from where I was pacing.

I’m surrounded by the history of Micah Emmett. And it has nothing to do with the DEA agent I begged to stay at my house and invited into my bed.

High school and college memorabilia, trophies, medals, and pictures litter the walls and bookshelves.

It took me all of five seconds to spot Hannah Emmett when I walked through the front doors of this house. She hasn’t been the topic of conversation, but she’s everywhere.

And I feel like I know her.

She was beautiful, loved animals, and her family. Her bedroom is just as much of a shrine as Micah’s. Hank and Tess Emmett raised athletes. Hannah was tall and fit, and has as many volleyball accolades as Micah does for football. They both ran track and have the pictures together to prove it.

Her hair was blonder, and her eyes were bluer than her older brother’s. She was the brighter, feminine version of the man I can’t get enough of.

I look from pictures of him to the real thing, standing in the threshold to his childhood bedroom. He fills the doorway—tall and wide. Reading his expression, pensive is not a strong enough word to describe who I’m looking at.

I pull in a breath and whisper, “Chase is a deep sleeper.”

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