Emmett stretched in his chair. The kitchen table in the apartment above Elle’s dance school had turned out to be a great writing nook, away from the prying eyes at his mother’s house. Max was staying there, and even though Ben lived with Maggie now, he was around much of the day. It was hard to get work done there.

Emmett grinned. Of course, there were times when being at the studio made writing difficult, too. He’d gone downstairs earlier in the day to find Elle in a classroom, doing one of her workouts, forcing her body to bend and move in ways that had Emmett hard as stone in a matter of minutes. She always had that effect on him. Thankfully, the studio had been closed to the public, doors locked, when he snuck in beside her.

Emmett had slowly undressed himself, then moved to rid her of her leotard and tights. She’d offered no resistance as she watched his reflection in the mirror. She’d only commented on how beautiful he was. He’d laughed, saying it was Elle who was beautiful.

He told her to grab the bar, and she’d followed his instructions, arching her back to give him perfect access, the entire time, her blue eyes trained on him in the reflection. Emmett slowly slid inside her, watching in the mirror as the two moved in perfect harmony, like a choreographed dance as he made love to her. The image of their bodies, pushing and pulling, reflected in the mirror as they both reached for release, had been one of the most erotic things he’d ever seen. Hearing her cries echo in the studio sent Emmett hurdling over the edge, chasing her.

Shit, he was hard now just thinking of the experience. He shifted in his seat. He needed to concentrate for a few more minutes. At least long enough to pack up and go find Elle.

Refocusing on his laptop, he was pleased to note the word count. He’d written more in the past four hours than he had the past four months. Both journals—Elsbeth’s from decades before and Elle’s from her battle with cancer—sat open on the table beside him.

Both women had fought against something that had the power to cripple others. The Elsbeth of the 1800’s beat back famine, fever, and the loss of her love. It turned out, Emmett was now discovering, she’d also fought against prejudices of her time. He’d found entries that showed Elsbeth was trying to make a name for herself as a portrait photographer. It was a field dominated by men, but she didn’t let that stop her.

His Elle was just as strong. She’d had to overcome her own struggle with cancer, and reading the words in Elle’s journal, Emmett had discovered it was a battle that damned near destroyed her. She was still fighting the effects in some ways, he thought.

He tamped down his own fears that her cancer might return. The thought seemed to constantly worry him nowadays, especially as their trip to New York grew closer. They would fight whatever came their way together, he reminded himself.

Emmett stood from the chair, stretching his aching muscles. His stomach grumbled and he glanced at the clock on the stove, noting it was close to dinner. Maybe Elle would want to grab a bite on the way home. Home. He was surprised that’s what he considered Elle’s condo now. His home.

With his Elle.

Emmett stepped out onto the top of the stairs, stopping halfway when he heard Elle’s voice. She was probably finishing up with a student or parent, or maybe her receptionist? Taking a few more steps he glanced around the corner.

Elle sat at the front desk, her cell phone to her ear. He froze when he heard her words.

“No, Emmett doesn’t know. I can’t tell him yet.”

Emmett stilled, his heart hammering in his chest.

There was a long pause before she spoke again. “I hope you’re right,” she whispered. “I really do.”

Emmett pressed his body against the wall, disappointment robbing him of breath. She was keeping secrets from him again. There was something she wasn’t telling him.

Emmett thought about moving closer to listen, but stopped himself. She’d tell him about it when she got off the phone. Wouldn’t she?

“Yes, I’ll call you when I know for sure. Good bye, Sabine.”

She was talking to Sabine, her old teacher and mentor. What could she share with Sabine that she couldn’t share with him?

Emmett went back up to the apartment and sat on the bed, his gut clenching in fear. What was she holding back?

Unable to sit still, Emmett packed up his research and slid the papers, journals and his laptop into his messenger bag while he waited, preparing himself for what she might say. Or, worse, for what she might not say.

“Hey,” Elle said, walking through the door. “I thought we could grab something to eat.” She stepped close to him and smiled as though everything was normal. “I’m starving.”

Emmett stilled. “I thought I heard you on the phone, so I waited up here until you were done.”

He watched her face, but her expression remained unchanged.

“Oh, that…it was just a parent asking questions about classes,” she said, the lie casually rolling off her tongue as she shrugged.

Something deep inside him cracked and Emmett wondered how he’d let himself get here again. How had he let Elle Noble suck him in again? As much as he loved this woman—and he would be stupid to try to deny he loved her—he had to face the fact that she’d never fully trust him enough to be honest. She wasn’t capable of sharing a life with him, of opening herself to the kind of love that brought trust. The kind of love that meant you’d fight anything that came your way, no matter how tough, side-by-side. Together.

“I can’t,” Emmett said flatly, ignoring the surprised look on her face. “I’ve got to get home and finish three more chapters.”

He wasn’t talking about dinner. He wasn’t really talking to her, at all. He was telling himself, his heart, that he couldn’t do this anymore. Couldn’t let himself love a woman who didn’t trust him, who wouldn’t let him fully inside. It was time for his heart to start listening.

“But, you can write here. I’ve got paperwork downstairs I can do,” she said, nodding toward the stairs. “We can order pizza or something.”

Emmett shook his head, silently begging her to open up for once and tell him the truth, tell him everything. He fisted his hands, trying to tamp down the anger and the hurt pulsating through his body. He needed to get the hell out of there. Now.

“Were you ever going to tell me, Elle?” he asked, unable to keep from asking.

“Tell you what?” Elle swallowed. She looked down at his clenched fists, then back to him. This time, her eyes were shuttered, completely closed off.

Emmett laughed, a hollow sound. He couldn’t believe that even now, she couldn’t admit it. She was going to dig in her heels and try to pretend there was nothing wrong. “I can’t stay here,” he said, walking toward the door.

“Emmett, wait,” Elle reached for him, but he shook her off. “Let me just grab my bag and we can—”

“No.” Emmett held up his hand.

Elle’s face fell, and he watched as her eyes glistened with tears.

“Just…no, Elle. I can’t do this again. If you can’t be honest with me after all this time, after everything we’ve been through, then I need to leave. And this time,” he took a shaky breath, “I won’t be back. I can’t do this again.”

“Do what?” she asked, her voice breaking as her chin quivered.

“I can’t trust you again.” He spewed the words. “And I can’t be with you.”

“Emmet, you don’t understand, I was going to talk to you—”

He spun and walked toward the door but not before he saw the anguish in her eyes, the tears rolling down her face. It didn’t matter, he told himself. He had to shut her out this time.

“Emmet!” she cried, clutching his arm.

He turned and faced her, his heart shattering in a million pieces. “When, Elle? When were you going to talk to me?” He watched her, the woman he loved, had loved his whole life. “When will you stop hiding things from me? Stop lying to me?”

She shook her head as tears streamed down her face.

“You think you’re saving the people you love by shielding them, by carrying the burdens of your life on your own. Well guess what, Elle? You’re not saving anyone. You’re destroying them, destroying me.” His last words came on a broken cry. “Destroying us.”

“Emmett, it’s not like that. I want to…I’m, it’s…” Elle choked back a sob.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” he said, shaking off her arm as he raked a hand through his hair. He’d never felt more desolate or alone in his life. Now, he understood what Elsbeth of the 1800s had gone through, how broken she had been when the love of her life left her without a word because her family demanded it. He understood what it felt like to know love wasn’t enough.

“Good bye, Elle.”

She stepped forward, reaching for him but he backed away, pushing through the door and down the stairs.

He didn’t stop to wonder how he would go on without her, knowing he no longer had a choice. The choice to leave had taken that away from him. Again.