Текст книги "Fever dream"
Автор книги: Elsie Silver
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Текущая страница: 21 (всего у книги 24 страниц)
OFFICIAL MEMO
To: Richard Wadsworth
From: Teri Baker
Subject: Bachelor Absences
While the bachelor has been very cooperative on set, he has not been spending many nights at his cottage on set as discussed in person.
I am also attaching the images that our contractor has come back with.
Camera was placed as you directed.
Footage has been captured. Breach of contract is all but confirmed.
It appears that one contestant (Catherine) is in on the violation.
Sincerely,
Teri Baker
Story Producer
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CHAPTER 40
Emmett
I FINISH RECORDING A candlelit dinner with Evelyn while Julia stands on the sidelines stone-faced.
I like to think I’m doing a good job of not constantly reorienting back to her, but the truth is I can’t help myself. She’s on my mind twenty-four hours a day. When I’m sleeping, I dream about her. When I wake up, I reach for her. When I go to sleep, I drift off imagining all the things I want to do with her.
All I know is I want her as close to me as possible. I’ve started looking forward to the end of the show more than ever.
My plan is to collect that final check, hand it over to my family, and go find her so I can drop to my knees and beg her to forgive me for putting her through this ordeal.
In the meantime, I just keep reminding myself that she’s still here. She hasn’t left. She’s sticking around. And that’s all I can ask for.
Hell, it’s more than I have any right to ask.
“Emmett! My office,” Dick Wad snipes before I can get off the set.
My plan is to make a beeline straight to Julia’s apartment because as sweet as it is for Catherine to help us, it’s just not worth the risk when the end is in sight.
So with a regretful sigh, I head toward the utility trailer that Richard’s made into his office, hoping I can get this done and out of the way.
He’s already seated behind his desk when I step in, grinning at me in a way that makes my hackles rise.
“Over here, Emmett.” He gestures for me to come around the desk, and when I do, he opens a folder on his computer screen. “I just wanted to show you a few things.”
It takes me a moment to register what I’m seeing. Richard casually scrolls through pictures of Julia.
At my house, bloodied knees, coming inside, then leaving later.
In her car with me outside the diner.
At The Sugar Saloon with me.
Us at the Cactus Club, where she went on her date.
But most troubling of all is the photo of us inside my house.
The angle is from the front door and captures the main entryway. It’s the morning after Catherine helped sneak her in. The photo itself is innocuous enough; she’s only slipping on her shoes at the front closet. But there’s no window for a camera to catch it. Which means there is one inside my cottage. Something I know I didn’t give them permission for.
“So you see,” Richard says, cutting into the shocked silence that hangs between us. “I could easily ruin her career. She was hired to manage locations, not your cock. Yet here she is, and here you are—the star of my show, finding love with a crew member instead of where you’re paid to.” He pauses for effect, dragging the cursor over Julia’s face, underlining the proof. “I’d hate to use this. I’d hate to enforce the part of the contract where you agreed not to see anyone publicly.”
My molars grind and my cheeks sizzle. The threat is obvious, and it does nothing but make me feel trapped. Helpless.
“But now I’ve got photos of you out at a bar. So the moral of the story here, Emmett, is that you’re going to behave yourself. You have one week of the show left, and I want some fucking drama. I’ve had to get artful to keep this from being a total snoozefest. Because you’ve let me down.”
I hate him.
“But this week you will not let me down. You’re going to bring all the angst and all the PG-13 rated sexual activity that you can. Because I’m producing a fucking dating show here. I’m after ratings, not a medal for morality.”
“Are you blackmailing me?”
He brushes past my question. “You’ve got your day off tomorrow to think about it. Make the smart choice, Emmett. It’s only one week. In one week, you get paid, and young Julia gets the career she’s always wanted. She’ll move on, work her way up in Hollywood, like her cover letter expressed that she’s always dreamed of. You’ll be but a blip on the radar for her.”
I try not to wince, but Richard reads me too well. He homes in on every worry in my brain like they’re written out on my forehead.
“You can go back to whatever country-bumpkin shit you do while keeping your fucking mouth shut to fulfill your contractual obligations. No public dating for a year, remember?”
He waves a hand through the air with a dismissive flick, and I swallow.
“Who am I kidding? You’re desperate for this cash. Of course you remember. So you’ll do your press with the winner next year when this all airs. Play nice for the cameras. And then you and I never have to fucking talk to each other again. Have I made myself clear?”
I nod, wooden, my eyes still fixed on the screen.
“Good. Now get out of my office.”
I blink a few times before I turn to depart, thoroughly shaken. I don’t know what to think.
All I know is I want to be at Julia’s house, wrapped in her arms, tangled in her bedsheets. Because if I do what Richard wants to save her career and honor my contract, tonight may be the last night I spend with Julia Silva.
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CHAPTER 41
Julia
EMMETT HAS BEEN relentless all night, waking me up in the wee hours to reach for me again. Constantly touching me, kissing me. I love every moment, but there’s something desperate about the way he takes me.
It’s full of longing and reverence.
And something that feels an awful lot like love.
Even now, in the morning, as we’re having our coffee on the couch, he pulls me to him. “I’m skipping chores this morning. Not ready to leave.”
Because Jada’s unexpected departure messed with projected timelines and other schedules, the cast and crew were given an extra day off from filming this weekend, which means Emmett and I don’t need to be on set today.
“Okay,” I reply as I straddle his lap and look him over with concern.
I’m about to ask him what’s going on when he kisses me and makes me lose my train of thought. Without a word, he flicks off the straps of my tank top, pulling my shirt down below my breasts. He gazes at them as if he’ll never see them again.
We kiss and touch, but we barely talk. And before I know it, his sweats are shoved down, my shorts are pulled to the side, and he’s inside me. Again.
Our morning is lazy and hums along in a companionable quiet. He seems lost in his head, and I try not to prod him about it, knowing that this show has been a heavier burden than he ever expected it to be. But even his reserved mood can’t ruin the glow of this morning.
The feelings still lingering from last night, the safety I feel in his presence, it’s as satisfying as the sex.
But we both know it can’t be an all-day thing because Theo is picking me up for my mom’s birthday lunch today. He booked a table with a view at one of her favorite wineries for all of us. Afterward, we’re driving into the boonies to hit up the drive-in theater. Theo arranged for one of the movies playing tonight to be her all-time favorite movie, The Princess Bride.
I have half an hour to get ready after I accompany Emmett on his way out. I find myself wedged under Emmett’s arm as we descend in the elevator. We exit, and eager for any last seconds that I can stay in contact with him, I head out of the building pressed against his side, my arm wrapped around his waist.
I gobble up every small moment I can with Emmett, which is why we’re still latched on to each other when we approach his truck—parked right next to my brother’s.
Theo looks shocked, while Winter trends more toward smug.
Under any other circumstances, it would look as though I marched out with my brother’s most bitter rival, just to rub it in his face.
But in reality, this is my brother being so punctual that he’s way too early.
“What are you doing here?” I say in disbelief.
“You just waltzed out of your condo like a barnacle on Emmett Bush’s side, and your question to me is what am I doing here?”
“Theo, you’re not supposed to be here for thirty minutes. This is excessively timely, even for you,” I say, refusing to apologize or act embarrassed by Emmett’s presence. Because I’m not.
Theo doesn’t have to be best friends with him. He doesn’t even have to like him. Though I suspect that if they got to know each other under different circumstances, they might find the other isn’t so bad.
“Jules, are you…? Is he…?” Winter gives a dramatic eye roll as Theo points back and forth between us, speaking in fragmented sentences. “With him? Isn’t he…? But you guys are working together on…”
“My god, Theo, spit it out,” Winter finally says, arms crossed, not a lick of shock to be found on her face. “This is pretty obvious.”
“Why him?” Theo settles on, sounding more confused than venomous. As much as Theo jokes around, he’s a kindhearted, forgiving, understanding man. A bit of a child sometimes, but he balances it out with moments of unexpected maturity. I know he loves me enough to at least try to come around on this. “Jules, you are aware he’s like the worst, right?”
Emmett snorts, tugging me closer. He doesn’t give a fuck about Theo’s approval. “I’m standing right here, hey?” Humor laces his voice, because if nothing else, Emmett has thick skin. He’s had to grow it that way. Plus, as I’ve come to learn, caring about what other people think of him is not in his nature.
“I know you’re right there. But even you have to realize you’re the worst.”
Winter laughs, loud and from her belly. She throws her head back before turning to rub her hand up Theo’s spine and squeeze at his shoulder. “Ah,” she says, sighing dramatically. “Imagine knowing someone who everyone thought was the worst and then they turned out not to be. That would be so weird.”
A muscle in my brother’s jaw flexes as he tilts his head, gaze sliding toward his wife. She grins up at him, smug as ever, and I have to stifle a giggle of my own. Because I know exactly what she’s talking about.
Once upon a time, Winter was somewhat of a pariah in their friend and family group. The poster child for “you never know what someone else is living with,” basically.
They’ve come a long way since then. Until just now, I hadn’t considered the way their story mirrors mine, and I find it oddly entertaining.
“Okay, b-but…” Theo stumbles over his words. He looks slightly constipated at the idea that there could be any common ground between his wife—who he’s fucking obsessed with—and Emmett, who he is… whatever the opposite of obsessed with is.
“You know what I think?” Winter says, clapping her hands together, as though that will clear the air between all four of us. “I think Emmett should join us for lunch. Loretta would love that. Julia would love that. And I know I, for one, would absolutely love that. What do you think, Thee?” she asks, quirking a brow in his direction.
His cheeks flush red, and he looks like he’d prefer to run screaming from where this conversation has turned. But instead, he spits out a weak “Sure.”
Winter presses in close to his side, patting him on the chest before looking back at us. “See, Emmett? Theo would love it if you joined us too.”
Emmett shifts uncomfortably, gaze flitting from Winter to me. “I’m not sure we should be seen in public given that—”
“You saying you don’t want to be seen in public with my sister?” Theo puffs up as his head snaps in Emmett’s direction.
“Jesus, Theo.” I groan. “Which is it? He should stay away from me or take me out on the town?”
My brother only crosses his arms and glares at me in response while Winter struggles to keep her lips from tipping up.
With a sigh, I turn and face Emmett. His eyes search my face, his expression showing me so much of what he’s feeling. Uneasy. Defensive. Committed.
I know what he had been about to say. He and I? We need to be careful. Richard is watching us like a hawk and neither of us can afford having this all blow up in our faces.
It’s risky.
And it would appear that Emmett doesn’t care. Because all he says is, “You riding with me, Jules?”
We walk onto the expansive patio at the winery, and I can’t tell who’s more uncomfortable, Emmett or Theo.
Winter and my mom, on the other hand, are gleeful as they lead us to our table.
As the server tries to seat us, my mom speaks up. “There’s actually seven of us now, including the two kids. Maybe we could move a chair to the end of the table? I’m sure it wouldn’t take up much room.”
From behind me, Theo grumbles, “Maybe they could bring you a dog bed, Bush? You might be more comfortable sitting on one of those.”
Emmett lets out a raspy laugh under his breath before mumbling back, “That’s rich. Word around the locker room is that you barked at your wife the first time you met her.”
“Actually, that’s totally out of context,” Theo defends himself, but Winter doesn’t let him get away with it.
She turns to look at Emmett, smiling politely as she confirms, “Yes, he did in fact bark at me.”
My brother laughs. “You fucking loved it.”
Winter glares in response, but her lips wobble. If nothing else, Theo’s endless positivity has brightened Winter over the course of their relationship. They complement each other perfectly. She doesn’t take his shit, and he’s not scared off by hers.
My eyes slip to Emmett as the server pulls another chair over for him, and I realize that we have the same thing.
His shit doesn’t scare me. And he can handle mine.
With that nugget at the forefront of my brain, I shuffle around the table and sit next to him while Theo and Winter settle the kids in a high chair and a booster seat.
Then my mom sits down, spreads her napkin over her lap… and winks at me before addressing the table. “This might be the most exciting birthday lunch of my life. Emmett, thank you for joining us. I’m not going to grill you about this today. Because I have a sinking suspicion that you two”—she flips a finger between us—“are up to something you shouldn’t be, considering you’re both working on that show.”
Neither of us denies it, and my expression turns sheepish.
“But sometimes,” she continues, “that’s where the strongest foundations are forged. In fire and brimstone. Hot and cold. And unlikely circumstances. So, when your work relationship is wrapped up, we’re going to do this again, and you’re going to tell me all about it. But for now, I just think all of you should know…” She turns to look at each of us, her smile softening even further when she gets to her grandchildren. “That Gabriel would have loved to see us all together like this.”
I blink my eyes, choked up at the thought of the father I never got to know. The one who died riding a bull. And now here I am, signing up for the same possible heartache that my mom did.
But something has changed in me, because for the first time in my life I understand why she’d have overlooked the risk. Why Winter does too. Loving these men is terrifying… and worth it.
Emmett must pick up on my feelings, and he doesn’t hesitate to slip a strong hand over my back, rubbing gentle circles between my shoulder blades to comfort me.
My gaze moves to my brother. He’s watching the motion, not with judgment, but with pure dumbfounded disbelief.
I smile at him. Dumbfounded is a whole lot better than horrified.
It gives me hope that this all might work out. Because while I’ve always sworn I wouldn’t date a cowboy… I’d be willing to make an exception for this one.
Theo waits until Emmett has departed for the night before he begins his inquisition. Mom, Winter, and the kids are setting up by our vehicles, and it’s just us in line for popcorn at the drive-in.
“So, you and Emmett, huh?”
Though he attempts to appear nonchalant—hands shoved in his pockets, shoe tapping the grass—I know his true nature. He’s probably been rehearsing this in his head for hours, coming up with a cool but concerned way to approach me.
“Yup, Emmett and me.”
The buttery-sweet scent of popcorn and minidonuts drifts between us as his eyes sneak over to my face, his sad attempt to pretend he’s not looking at me.
“Is it serious?”
I run my tongue over my teeth, trying not to give anything away. I want it to be serious.
Badly.
But I’m a practical person. There are so many obstacles in our way. I want Emmett for myself, and I want him to cash in and save his family farm too. I haven’t even let myself wallow in the reality that even if we let this turn into something real, it will need to be in secret. For at least a year, until the show airs and his contract expires.
And yet…
“Yes.”
He sniffs and scrubs a hand over his cheek. “I’m not a fan of it, to be honest.”
A slow smile tips my lips as I tilt my head toward my brother. “Good thing you’re not the one involved with him then.”
“You’re my sister, Jules.”
“And you’re my brother, Theo. But you’re a cool brother. Not like other brothers. Which means you’re not going to do the gross thing where you get worked up over who your sister dates.”
A low grumble emanates from his throat, and I know I’ve hit him with something he can’t deny. We’ve always prided ourselves on having a healthy, open, nonjudgmental relationship.
Something that won’t be changing now just because Theo has professional friction with the guy.
“I believe in you,” I tease, bumping my shoulder against his. I expect him to smile and give me a brotherly side hug before we carry on. Back to normal. Enjoying the rest of our mom’s birthday.
But that’s not what happens.
Theo peers down at me, his expression grave. “I just hope you know what you’re doing. I don’t want you to get hurt. Because I’m familiar with Emmett. I’ve seen him on tour. He breaks hearts. He gets around, Jules. He’s not a one-woman guy.”
My cheeks heat and I roll my lips together to cover my discomfort. When Theo turns serious, it’s unnerving. I’m used to him being playful and jokey—not concerned.
His warning lands with unexpected weight, dropping like a rock in my stomach. Today was perfect in so many ways. I left that lunch feeling hopeful and brimming with love.
And Theo decided to ruin it for me in the name of being a protective big brother. A little irritating, especially considering his reputation before meeting Winter.
Planting this seed of unease isn’t what I needed from him, and I won’t give him the satisfaction of feeding into his warning.
Instead, I cross my arms, offering him a stiff shrug and a pointed smirk. “Well, once upon a time you weren’t either.”
Then I step away and order myself a popcorn, pretending like this conversation never happened.
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CHAPTER 42
Emmett
Richard
Just attaching these photos for you as a friendly reminder that you have until tomorrow morning to decide how you want to play this.
I left that lunch with Julia’s family feeling confused and foggy about a lot of things.
But one thing that has become clear to me is that I’m hopelessly in love with Julia Silva.
Against all the odds and against all the promises I made to myself that I’d never end up here, I have tumbled headfirst into uncharted territory. And while I know little about how being in love with a person changes things, I know that if I don’t put Richard in his place I’ll never forgive myself.
Contractually, I’m stuck.
Emotionally, I’m unavailable.
And morally, I feel reprehensible about it all.
Especially since Richard sent me a text reminding me I have one day to decide, with several of the photos of Julia and me attached.
It pissed me off more than ever. It stirred a feral, protective part of me to life.
So now, with a new fire burning inside of me, I storm across the set. Julia is out of cell service range at the drive-in movies with her family, which is just as well. My intuition tells me that this conversation will go poorly, and I’d rather she not be here to bear the brunt of it.
The first thing I did on my way over here was reach out to a contract lawyer recommended by my agent. Out of everything that’s gone on over the past several weeks, the thing that’s unsettled me most is the camera inside the house. So I want a professional—who is not paid by the studio—to tell me what that could mean for the contract. And my legal obligation to participate in the show.
It’s a long shot, but I have to try. Because I know I didn’t consent to that, which means Dick Wad trespassed and put an unauthorized camera on private property. It feels an awful lot like a crime.
Richard is a slippery motherfucker, though, so I’d rather not hang my hat on something before I know the legalities. It’s also not something I want to give away to him until I know that there has truly been a violation.
I’m not in a position to sacrifice the money, but it’s gotten to a point where I need to lay out in clear terms what I will and will not do for this show. If that means he fires me, then I will have to live with that.
I don’t bother knocking. I grip the metal handle and rip the door open, skipping the bottom step, going straight for the top one and pulling myself into Dick Wad’s dingy little office.
My plan is to sock it to him.
But the problem is he’s quite busy socking it to Evelyn.
My eyes widen, and my jaw drops as I take in the scene. Evelyn is bent over Dick Wad’s desk, palms flat, dress flipped, ass up, makeup smudged, and Richard is balls deep inside her, thrusting away.
Evelyn’s mouth pops open in a perfectly round O shape, while Richard booms, “Get the fuck out, Bush!”
But I don’t respond. I just stand slack-jawed, feeling naive for one of the first times in my life as I watch them both scramble apart with red cheeks and heavy breaths all while Dick Wad continues to tell me to get the fuck out.
Evelyn scrambles to push her dress down as Richard draws away. She approaches me with wild eyes, tears brimming along her dark lashes. “Emmett, you have to know why—”
I hold a hand up to stop her coming any closer. “Evelyn, it’s okay. It’s just a show. We’re not together. You don’t owe me shit.”
“He promised me an audition, a real Hollywood audition.”
A sob lurches from her throat and my stomach drops as I watch this woman begin to unravel in front of me. I don’t particularly like Evelyn, but I do feel a flash of empathy for her. Pity maybe. Unfortunately, she’s fallen for Dick Wad’s creepy fucking promises.
But I suppose that in a way, I have too.
“Good luck with that,” I say, my voice heavy with skepticism.
She drops her head and hustles past me, tears of embarrassment glistening on her cheeks. Which leaves Richard and me alone. Belt jangling, cheeks puffing, he looks like a tomato—with very white teeth—set to explode.
“You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve, marching in here like you own the place,” he says, rounding his desk to face me.
“That’s rich, coming from the guy I just caught pounding his favorite contestant. Although I guess we all know why she’s your favorite now.”
“You think you can just talk to me like that?”
I make a show of glancing around his trailer, mind buzzing with what this development could mean for me. “Now? After this? I’ll talk to you however I damn well please.”
“Watch yourself, Bush. I don’t respond well to threats.” Richard puffs up like he has some hope of intimidating me. This kind of bluster is old hat for me though. I’m not the least bit affected by his attempt at intimidation.
What I am affected by is the overwhelming realization of how colossally fucked-up this entire experience is.
It’s fake. It’s transactional. It’s manipulative. It’s fucking soul-sucking.
My knee-jerk reaction to joining the show had been that it was a line even I wouldn’t cross. I should have trusted my instincts. Instead, I was blinded by dollar signs. And now the weight of my own regret is downright crushing.
What have I done?
I allowed this man to put a price tag on my integrity.
No more.
“You disgust me.” I scoff the words, shaking my head in disappointment. “And I quit.”
He huffs out a condescending chuckle. “You can’t quit. I own you.” He reaches across his desk, picking up what appears to be a printed version of my contract.
It dangles from his stubby fingers. Taunting me.
“No. You don’t.” Julia does, I think. But I don’t dare utter her name in his presence. Because this is all on me. And I need to make it right.
He’s fucked with a man who’s never been in love before.
And now I know exactly how I’d act in love.
Irrational.
“Rip it up. I’m done,” I clarify before I spin on my heel and leave his grimy trailer.
He utters threats to my back. They slip off me like rotten eggs from a Teflon pan. Nothing he says matters, because I’d blow my entire life up to spare Julia another moment of strife.
He took photos of her in my house. Without consent.
And it has me feeling fiercely protective. Bordering on vengeful. I want to douse his precious show in gasoline and be the one to toss the match on it. Then stand back and watch all his hopes and dreams for Romance Ranch go up in flames.
Which means I need to go confess to my oma and opa that I just cost them a lot of money.
I sit across the table from my oma and opa, concern etched across their features.
I suppose showing up looking guilty as sin and telling them that I needed to talk was cause for concern. Mostly because this is entirely out of character for me. But in the time between leaving Richard’s office, going to my cottage, and packing an overnight bag—because I sure as fuck am not staying there with cameras set up—and heading here, the weight of everything that’s transpired became unbearably heavy.
“I don’t know where to start. All I know is I can’t do this show, and I need to stay here with you guys tonight.” I untangle my linked fingers on the table and straighten in my chair in an attempt to appear open and honest. Talking like this is hard for me.
I continue since they say nothing. “I thought I could do this. I thought it wouldn’t matter, and then—”
“You met someone who did,” Oma interjects, voice wobbling, her eyes tearful.
I nod, feeling choked up as my fingers twist between each other again. “Yeah. And now I… I don’t know. I thought I could make it one more week. I wanted to do it for you guys, I really did, but I just—”
“I think,” Opa says gruffly, “what you’re trying to say is you’re in love with that girl, and the thought of pretending to date anyone else makes you want to vomit.”
I glance up at him, eyes shrink-wrapped with tears of relief, because yes, that’s exactly how I feel. And for a man who says so few words, the ones he chooses land with force.
“Yeah,” I admit. “I think I might be in love with her. Is it supposed to feel like this?”
“Like what, honey?” Oma says gently as she stands up and rounds the table to sit beside me.
“I don’t know. Like every time I try to focus, my brain short-circuits and goes back to her. Like my chest hurts. Like I’d burn down the fucking world and do morally reprehensible things all just to keep her safe.”
“Oh, baby,” Oma says, leaning her head against my shoulder while rubbing slow circles on my back.
Opa laughs, though. A deep, raspy laugh.
“You be nice,” Oma scolds him.
“I am being nice. I’m just laughing because this one’s been made of stone for so damn long, it’s satisfying to see him finally crack.”
I sniff and wipe at my eyes before looking across the table at the man who raised me. “I’m so glad you’re enjoying this,” I joke, knowing they can hear the emotion in my voice but not caring.
I feel flayed open after the most intimate night with Julia followed by lunch with her family. And then the sinking realization that I couldn’t go on like this.
I never expected Opa to crack jokes. Not when he needs that money for the farm. But he just shrugs, gets up, and heads toward the sideboard where he keeps all the best bourbon.
He pulls out a bottle, then grabs three glasses in one meaty hand before plunking back down at the table.
“I was in your shoes once.” He shoots a rare soft look at Oma. “Hard and spiny on the outside, until your oma came along and cracked me open like a fucking crab leg.”
I snort. “Poetic,” I reply, only to look at Oma and see her smiling back at him. Their relationship has always been a fairy tale to me. Strong, sure, and full of mutual respect.
It strikes me now that if I ever do the whole marriage and white picket fence thing, I’d want it to be like what they have.
Opa pours three large glasses of bourbon and slides two toward Oma and me.
“So, what you’re telling me is we’re skipping the payday?”
I groan and drop my forehead into my hands. And this time, tears slip out unbidden.
Get yourself together, I chide myself. I desperately don’t want to fall apart in front of them. But the stress of the last few weeks—the exhilaration of meeting Julia and the disappointment I’m about to dole out on them—hits me full force in a way I don’t expect.
An awkward sob racks me as I try to pull myself together.
I fail miserably.
“Oh, my boy,” Opa murmurs softly. I hear the screech of his chair as he rounds the table and comes to sit beside me.
“You think I give a fuck about that money or that sleazebag who’s going to pay it?” His arm mirrors Oma’s so that they’re both pressed to either side of me, huddled around me. Propping me up.
“Your happiness is our number one priority. It always has been, and it always will be. We promised your mother that we would love you as if you were our own, if anything ever happened to her. And we do. She would have been proud of the man you’ve grown up to be.”
The mention of my mom only makes more tears spring up in my eyes, my throat constricting even further. Opa forges ahead, though.
“You’re thoughtful, but shrewd. Nobody’s fool. You’ve guarded that heart for too long. And you’ve made more than enough sacrifices for this family. So, this is one venture I’m glad to see crash and burn. Because if it means your happiness, then who gives a flying fuck about the rest? I’d sell this farm a million times over to see you or any of your siblings living a good life.”
