I woke up to the sound of light snoring, and I didn't need to open my eyes to know that it came from Mateo–he'd always been a deep sleeper.

Mateo lived with me for a few months after he'd broken the news to his father that he wouldn't take over the family business and would instead become a professor. Though, while he'd gotten his own room, he had a habit of falling asleep on the couch in the living room.

My body was tightly pressed against Emma's; I hadn't allowed even one inch of space between us. Waking up with her in my arms was like a high I never wanted to end. Was it possible to get addicted after only a few nights? It certainly felt like it.

Yesterday had been amazing. Our girl was everything I could've dreamed of and more. She took whatever we had to give and not only liked it, but she loved it. I felt like what we'd done sealed the deal we had with each other. We could never go back after that moment.

Raising my head, I saw that she was sleeping sweetly on Mateo's chest with one of her feet slung over him. I guessed the blankets must've fallen off the bed at some point during the night.

Looking at them together now, I felt a type of warmth in my chest that I couldn't decipher. All I knew was that I liked the sight.

Something twisted in my stomach at the thought because with it came the knowledge that I was keeping a secret from them both–hell, from them all. It wasn't even something I could excuse; none were good enough–my shitty childhood included.

When we first saw Emma, all I could think of was how this would bring my friends and me tighter together. Here was finally someone we all had an interest in, and I was afraid to let that go. I'd already noticed how much more contact I'd had with the guys since she came into our lives. For a while, it felt like we'd drifted apart. We never had time to hang out like we used to, gotten too busy and focused on work. And yeah, it was life. That shit happened, but damn...fear of abandonment fucked a man up. Though, as I'd said, not an excuse for messing with people's lives.

The thing was, I'd been thinking about telling them every fucking day, but the more time that went, the harder it was to own up to my mistake. And now I was getting more and more involved too, and the thought of not only losing my best friends over this fuck up but Emma as well...I didn't know if I could go through that. So, I kept quiet, knowing it would blow up in my face, but hoping to delay it just so I can have another day...just another day.

Gideon must know now, though, one of the two secrets I'd kept. He must've gotten her location when he would pick her up for their night and realized it was his club. My stomach twisted even further, knowing my conversation with him would soon come. Maybe another day with them had come and gone already, and I was running on nothing but borrowed–no, stolen–time.

I rose gently from the bed, careful not to wake those two up from their slumber. Gideon left right after Emma had fallen asleep to a guestroom that was unofficially his, which didn't surprise me. That poor bastard...I knew that what his parents had done had messed him up real good, and try as we might, Mateo and I wasn't the best to help him with his intimacy issues. If he would just open up to Emma about his past–yeah, I shouldn't talk. I hadn't really opened up either.

Grabbing the blanket lying on the floor, I put it over them, carefully as not to wake them up. My eyes took in Emma's sleeping form. I'd never get tired of looking at her; she looked innocent, calm, and so goddamned beautiful it squeezed my heart. She was also ridiculously tough–even though she might not think so. She went after what she wanted even when her shy personality tried to hold her back.

Much had changed since she'd come into our lives, and none of those changes were bad. Emma was like a breath of fresh air, smiles, and rainstorms.

Rainstorms...I would never look at one the same way again, not after having seen her standing in one, with arms stretched and smiling up at the sky.

Forcing my gaze away from her, I walked out of the room and silently shut the door behind me. Fresh coffee filled the air, letting me know Gideon was awake or had been recently. His sleep routine was practically nonexistent, but I hoped he'd gone back to bed–it was still early enough for him to get a couple of more hours of shut-eye. After all, it wasn't that long ago we fell asleep. The sound of a cupboard door closing told me that wasn't the case.

"Good morning," I greeted the angry-looking man that had been my best friend for years. He hadn't always looked this pissed, but I guessed not dealing with your shit would do that to you.

He grunted something incoherent back.

"Did you get some sleep?" I asked, grabbing a cup and started working the coffee machine. It was some fancy device that only made one cup at a time, but the taste made it worth it.

"Some," he answered. "Better than last night." Ah, last night when Emma slept over at his place. It was a no-brainer as to why–at least not for someone who knew the guy.

Grabbing the–finally–coffee-filled cup, I sat down in front of him by the kitchen island. "How did that go anyway?"

How did you react to finding out you are her boss? The unspoken question hung in the air, but only I could hear it. I wasn't going to lie; I was fucking nervous.

Gideon looked at me through tired eyes. "She went against a direct order, and I had to discipline her." His low, gritty voice made it sound like he'd just woken up. I could hardly remember a time when he spoke normally, without whispering. I think he still had a rough type of tone back then too, but I couldn't be sure.

"What did she do?" I asked with my heart in my throat. I wasn't ready for this conversation, not by a long shot.

"She didn't cover up when I told her to," he informed me. "She...ah...she works at Euphoria and wore the fucking tiny uniform–" His eyes narrowed as he looked at me. "Why don't you look surprised?"

Fuck. It was one thing to keep something from them and a whole other thing to directly lie. My thoughts went a mile a minute trying to figure out what to say–how to explain everything–, but he beat me to it.

"You fucking knew," he growled. "Of course, you knew. You had a goddamned private investigator on her ass."

Did I say he looked angry earlier? Now it looked like he was struggling to keep his hands from punching me. If he tried, I would let him. I deserved it for going behind their backs like this.

"I'm–"

"What else haven't you told us?" he cut me off. "What more have you hidden?"

Words got stuck in my mouth, refusing to come out. Never before had I broken their trust in me, and I could already see that that was precisely what I was doing now–not just breaking it but shattering it. I just hoped the pieces would be big enough to clue back together.