Текст книги "Fever dream"

Автор книги: Elsie Silver

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Текущая страница: 22 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

His words make my throat ache, and dampness trails from my eyes. This has always been what being a Brandt is about. This is what’s held me together all these years. The knowledge that no matter what, my family has my back.

And I should have remembered that before I tortured myself over this. I should have known that this is what they would say.

Their hands rub in tandem against my back as I gain my composure. “Oh my god, I’m a fucking mess,” I whisper, sniffling and rubbing my tearstained cheeks on my forearms. As though I couldn’t possibly face them like this.

Oma leans in close, dropping her head to my shoulder. “But what a girl to be a mess over. One who’s strong enough to pretend her car stalled just to keep Carl from crossing this property line.”

At that, my head shoots up. “What?”

They both burst out laughing. Opa’s firm clap on my shoulder draws my attention to him. His eyes are watery too. I mouth a silent Thank you to him, to which he says back, “Always. Now take a big drink of that bourbon and let Oma tell you this story. It’s an entertaining one.”

The night wears on in a haze of warmth and feelings of love and safety. It’s a good reminder that I’m surrounded by people who love me unconditionally. I head to bed feeling more at peace than I have in a very, very long time.

And as I pull the sheets of my childhood bed up over myself I’m barely able to keep my eyes open. I consider texting Julia, wanting to tell her the good news.

But then I think better of it. She’s out of reception, enjoying time with her family.

Plus, the thought of being able to see her face when I share this good news brings a smile to my lips as I sink into a whiskey-induced slumber.

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CHAPTER 43

Julia

IT’S A FAKE-IT-TILL-YOU-MAKE-IT vibe this morning. Partially because the movies ran way past my bedtime and partially because Theo’s overbearing brother act has me in a funk.

I step out of my car near the bunkhouse with a spring in my step and a general feeling of lightness. By choice.

I spent enough of last night spiraling over Theo’s warning, lying in my darkened room in sheets that still smelled like Emmett—wondering how my brother could be so wrong about him.

He breaks hearts.

He gets around.

He’s just not a one-woman guy.

Those three sentences continue to pop up in my brain, and I continue to push them away. Because that conversation yesterday felt like a dream. And I want to hold on to better memories instead.

A lazy morning with Emmett at my place, lunch with my family that he was unexpectedly—and fairly successfully—included in, followed by an afternoon walk with my niece and nephew, and the drive-in movie theater that night.

The only way it could have been better is if Emmett had been along for the whole day. But I also know that integrating him completely might take a little more time.

I got the sense that he was backing off after lunch, and honestly, I understood. We were thrown into an impromptu family meeting, and I suspect Emmett was a little out of his element in that setting.

Especially now that I know Theo’s true feelings about the guy.

Luckily, my mom remained polite about the unexpected development. It was only Winter who nudged me a couple times and gave me a wink or a knowing smile.

With all these considerations swirling in mind, I make my way to the utility trailers where much of the crew is already working. I’m not dreading work the way I usually do because I know that there’s only one week left.

One week left of this terrible charade.

One week left before Emmett and I can take this unspoken step forward.

It’s like we’re both waiting for that final shoe to drop so that we can be free. With Romance Ranch behind us, we’ll be able to start fresh. To try this thing out for real. Without Richard breathing down our necks.

Of course, there’s still the fact that we’ll need to keep it secret for an entire year. Something I can’t currently bring myself to face.

I sidestep all my worries. I lean on a skill that I’ve honed quite well over the past couple years: avoiding my problems by engaging in extreme productivity.

Which is why I’ve arrived to the set early.

“Good morning,” I singsong as I march into the production trailer with a box of donuts for the crew. “I come bearing goodies to make Monday morning a little more bearable.”

I plunk them down in front of Ben, and he turns to me with glee on his face. “Thank you, but this morning is already off to a great start.”

“Why is that?” I swipe a donut for myself, taking a bite before I prop a hip on the desk, glancing down at his large monitor.

“Because it would appear our bachelor was very busy last night.”

He clicks play, and I stop chewing.

The donut turns to sawdust in my mouth. My stomach drops hard and fast. The sick lurching takes over every synapse as I watch Evelyn’s silhouetted figure creeping up the front steps of Emmett’s cottage.

“Emmett, it’s me,” she murmurs.

I expect her advances to prove fruitless, but the front door swings open, and a darkened male figure fills the entryway.

I swallow but the donut lodges in my throat, making me feel like I’m choking.

It’s too dark to pick up any detail on the grainy security cameras, but the microphones picked up everything.

“Thank god you’re here,” Emmett responds.

My entire body feels like it’s on fire and my temples throb with betrayal.

“I told you I’d be able to sneak off.”

“Good girl. I’ve been dreaming of this,” Emmett says, low and full of lust.

I swallow again, but the donut is still stuck in my throat, and tears spring to my eyes.

I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience.

He breaks hearts.

He gets around.

He’s just not a one-woman guy.

“Get your ass in here. I can’t wait any longer,” he rumbles before pulling her into the shadows. It’s hard to make out much unless it’s highlighted by the exterior lights. I see hands and hair as he fists her chocolate tresses and tips her head back for a kiss.

From there, they stumble back into the house and shut the door. What follows is a series of thumps, moans, and grunts.

Muffled exclamations follow over several minutes.

“Yes, Emmett!”

“Please, Emmett!”

“More, Emmett!”

I feel like I’m going to throw up the bite of donut that I just forced down. This is exactly what my brother warned me about less than twelve hours ago.

“Fucking perfect, right?” Ben says, eyes shining with pride.

“Yeah,” I say, trying not to sound out of breath even though my lungs are seizing in my chest and I’m finding it hard to breathe. “So great.”

I swallow as nausea builds.

He breaks hearts.

He gets around.

He’s just not a one-woman guy.

“I’ll be right back,” I say weakly, swallowing my saliva quickly over and over again, attempting to calm my stomach.

I hustle out of the trailer, clamping my lips together as a stray tear slips down my cheek. It’s hot enough out that the saltwater dries against my skin almost instantly. But seconds later, it’s replaced by another.

When I get behind one of the farthest trailers in the field, I press a hand against the metal wall, bend over, and empty my stomach into the grass.

My body shakes as I stare down at the remnants of my breakfast and get my bearings.

I feel dizzy and entirely unlike myself. Without thinking, I pull out my cell phone and fire off a text to Emmett. My trembling thumbs type out the only thing running through my head right now.

How could you?

I send it and watch as it shows up delivered. It’s a text message I never thought I’d have to send him. I feel disconnected from my body, my limbs numb.

I don’t even know what to do with myself. Everything feels watery and pointless.

There’s no way I can head back into the production trailer, and I have to wonder if I’m even fit to finish out the final week of work. I walked onto the set feeling so fucking positive about where this was all going.

It never once crossed my mind that Emmett would betray me like this. Theo has always warned me about him, but all I’ve learned over the past couple of months is that Theo was wrong.

But what if he wasn’t?

I feel duped in the worst way, and that’s what has me reeling.

I knew his reputation, but with us… it felt different. I know it was. Or maybe I only wanted to believe that.

Until now, he’s been nothing but honorable. This doesn’t fit. At all.

The strangest part? He’s been nothing but repulsed by Evelyn and her behavior. Hell, he called her Evilyn.

So why would he do this after the day we spent together?

None of it makes sense. It doesn’t add up. I can’t reconcile it.

And the more time I spend with a hand propped against the trailer, replaying every moment we’ve shared over the past months, the more I feel like this can’t possibly be true.

Maybe it’s cognitive dissonance. Maybe it’s the only way I can function through having my heart crushed like this—the devastation of what I saw. The lingering possibility that it actually happened.

“What the fuck?” I mutter, raising a hand to press at my temple.

“Julia?” Parker’s voice is full of concern, and when I turn to face her, so is her expression.

She drops her gaze to my vomit in the grass, then her eyes travel their way back up with that shrewd appraisal she’s so good at. There’s something incredibly bright about Parker. She’s emotionally intelligent, if not terribly outgoing, which is why it makes sense that she steps closer and holds her hand out.

“I would ask you if you’re okay, but you’re clearly not.”

I offer her a wobbly smile and stare at her hand. She tips her head and adds, “Come on, let’s go. I’ve got the perfect place for us right now.”

Not knowing what else to do with myself, I take her hand and follow.

“Here, have some of this.” She shoves a bottle of amber liquor toward me.

“Parker, I can’t have any of that.”

“Why not?” She furrows her brows, baffled that I wouldn’t want bourbon on an empty stomach at nine thirty in the morning while hiding out in her oma and opa’s dingy crawl space.

“Oh shit, are you pregnant?” Parker blurts, her eyes wide.

“No, I’m not pregnant, it’s just—”

She cuts me off by pressing the bottle against my chest. “Then, unfortunately for you, this is a rite of passage. It’s part of being a Brandt. When shit goes bad, we drink in the crawl space.”

When shit goes bad?

Shit is really, really bad.

“If it’s any consolation, in one of my less fine moments I lost my temper and told my political science professor that he has the personality of a pebble this morning.”

“Oof. How did that go over?”

“Well, I doubt it helped my case. And I’m going to be stuck taking a class with him in the fall again, soooo… I’m going to drink, whether you do or not.”

Parker looks as distraught as I feel.

“You know what?” I eye the bottle, then rip the top off. “Yeah.”

I lift it to my lips and take a long swig. Fire shoots down my throat, burns my stomach, and then it spreads a slow warmth through me in a way that I need right now.

“I’m not a Brandt, though.”

Parker scoffs like I’ve just announced I believe in unicorns. “Not yet. But I see things. I know things.”

“No, I’m serious.” I take another swig. The liquid sloshing against the glass only makes me feel more pathetic. “There’s footage of him inviting Evelyn into his cottage last night.”

Parker barks out a laugh, reaching for the bourbon and taking a swig of her own. She wipes the back of her hand across her mouth with a light hiss. “Fuck, it really is early. Just remember that I’m only doing this because I like you, Julia.” She points at me. “But not as much as my brother likes you. And that’s saying something. Because for the most part, Emmett doesn’t allow himself to like anyone.”

I send her a look that says you’re making shit up just to comfort me.

“I’m serious. When our parents died, it was like his world fell apart around him. In that moment, he turned in a circle and decided that only the people he could see would make the cut. Then the walls went up.”

She huffs out a breath, shaking her head. “Hell, those aren’t just walls. They’re steel-trap doors. It’s like… it’s like he locked himself in a tornado shelter when the weather was bad. And even when the storm passed, he never let himself out.”

She grins and takes another swig before pointing at me. “Until you, baby.”

“Me?” I repeat stupidly, taking the bottle back, because I don’t know how to talk about this to a woman I barely know.

“Yeah, you. It’s like you left a trail of candy to get him outside or whatever the fuck happens in that fairy tale.”

I giggle, already feeling the effects of the bourbon on my empty stomach. “Hansel and Gretel? I think they just leave a trail of breadcrumbs to find their way home.”

Parker shrugs and waves me off. “You catch my drift. Plus, there’s no way breadcrumbs were going to be enough to lure him out of that shell. Candy. Milkshakes…”

I hold up the bottle, and we both smile. “Bourbon?”

“Yes. Bourbon.”

My head tips back against the plastic-sheet-covered insulation.

“It’s there on camera, though. Audio and everything.”

I can see Parker thinking. “Sure, but do you trust these people on the show more than you trust Emmett? Because I know I sure don’t.”

I sigh. “No, I don’t. It just threw me for a loop.”

“That’s allowed,” Parker says. “Hell, that’s more than understandable. I just think we owe it to Emmett to dig a little deeper, you know? Knowing what he’s told me about Dick Wad, I wouldn’t put it past the guy to pull something.”

I groan and press the heel of my hand against my forehead. “I just feel like I don’t know anything right now.”

She reaches out, squeezing my knee. “Listen to me. I’m not trying to be a weird, protective sister. If he did something wrong, I will be there with bells on for his crucifixion. I’m just saying that with some distance, without the shock of being shown that video unexpectedly, does anything about it seem suspicious? Do you truly think he would do that?”

“No,” I reply. My first reaction was shock and a haunting sense of betrayal. But the more I think about it with this fresh perspective—and with a few swigs of bourbon—the less it makes sense.

“The footage is low quality,” I say, tipping my head in consideration, wondering if I’m currently turning into the type of woman who will bend over backward to excuse her boyfriend’s actions.

He’s not really my boyfriend. We haven’t even talked about what we are. In the grand scheme of things, does he owe me anything?

“Okay, elaborate on that,” Parker says matter-of-factly, taking a swig and passing the bottle back to me.

I follow suit. I know I’m heading down a dangerous path with casual mouthfuls of morning liquor, but it’s helping me feel better, so I roll with it.

“I don’t know. It was dark. It’s security camera footage at the front of his house. It’s clearly Evelyn. She approaches, goes up to the door, and he answers.”

“You say it’s clearly Evelyn?”

“Yes.” I nod. “You can see her face in the footage as she approaches the house.”

“Okay, and what about Emmett’s face?”

“It’s…” I rack my brain trying to remember. Everything that’s happened this morning feels like a fucking blur. “It’s dark. I don’t think I could see him clearly, but it’s his house. He answered the door.”

Parker nods. “Voice?”

Fuck. I don’t know. In the moment, I wasn’t dissecting it. “I was in shock. I wasn’t paying close enough attention to details to analyze that now.”

She pushes the bottle back toward me. “So, just to play devil’s advocate, it could be anyone?”

“I guess it could be anyone,” I say, terrified to latch on to a shred of hope that it might not have been Emmett.

My phone lights up on the floor between us. Emmett’s name flashes above a text that reads What are you talking about?

I feel sick all over again.

What if I jumped to the wrong conclusion?

I have to be wrong.

I reach for my phone, but Parker moves it to the other side of her.

“Don’t text him back. He’ll survive. A little suffering where women are concerned is just karma at this point.”

I snort an unladylike laugh even as I eye my phone. “The thing I keep coming back to,” I say, words spilling from my lips in a rush, “is the way he talked to her. I can’t be sure about his face. Or his voice. But I just—He would never say that to her. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t pretend to dislike her, act so exasperated by the entire process of the show, and then, what? Do this out of left field?”

Parker nods, slow and deliberate. “That’s a great point. When we went to that bar to spy on you”—I bark out a laugh, which earns me a mischievous grin—“he complained about her quite… forcefully.”

I nod and take another swig. The bourbon is giving me clarity at this point.

Parker turns to me. “Julia, I know my brother, better than anyone. And while I don’t know for certain what went on last night, I know that he was categorically distraught over you going on that date. And I don’t think he’d humble himself the way he did, only to turn around and blow it all up.”

She’s right. He wouldn’t.

“I also know that the showrunner is a sleazy piece of shit. And I wouldn’t trust a single thing he showed me until I looked my brother in the eye and asked him to explain himself.”

“Oh god.” Guilt slams into me because she’s right. “How could I possibly trust anything that Richard’s had his hands in when it comes to the truth?”

Emmett and I are still working on building a solid foundation, but he’s shown me his true colors, and so has Richard. And I think in a moment of vulnerability, I may have been played.

“What if I fucked up?” I say, the reality of the text I sent to Emmett sinking in. I can imagine his hurt that I believed that footage for even a second. That I doubted him.

But Parker doesn’t seem the least bit concerned as she shrugs and takes another drink. “Then Emmett will forgive you, because that’s what you do when you love someone.”

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CHAPTER 44

Emmett

Julia

How could you?

The words flash across my screen right as I step onto set. Now that I’ve settled on quitting and have given my lawyer all the information he needs, I’m only here to look for Julia.

My hangover lingers, but I still managed to drag myself here a little bit early in hopes that I could head her off before anyone else gets the chance to tell her the big news.What are you talking about? I text back, a thread of worry weaving through my fuzzy conscience.

My brows furrow as I stare down at my phone hoping I’ll see those rolling dots that tell me she’s writing back. But they don’t come and I’m too antsy to stand around waiting. All I know is I need to find her.

Because after my conversation with Oma and Opa last night, I don’t give a fuck about the pretense or appearances or what Richard might think.

Jules is my top priority.

I pop my head into the production trailer, with a cup of steaming hot coffee in hand. My bewilderment only mounts as I face a room full of crew members who appear to be hard at work.

But what do I know about all that goes into canceling a show that was almost finished recording. I’m here for one person, and one person only.

“Good morning. Has anyone seen Julia yet?”

Ben, the director of photography, turns and smiles at me. “She was literally just here, but took off. You look chipper this morning.”

He winks at me, and my brows furrow. “Uh, thanks? I guess quitting the show really took a weight off my shoulders,” I say, not sure why he seems so happy about the entire show crashing and burning.

“Quitting the show?” Now it’s his turn to look confused. “Is that what we’re calling last night with you and Evelyn?”

His tone is teasing. He’s lost me completely. “Me and Evelyn?”

“Yeah, you know… after last night. Or wait, are we doing the a gentleman never tells thing even though it’s all on camera?”

I step up into the trailer, that thread of concern fraying into something akin to dread. Each loose string wraps itself around me. “What do you mean?”

“Dude. Did you kill too many brain cells last night?” He turns back to the computer and hits play.

Then, right before my eyes, a horrific scene unfolds. One that makes me sick and furious at the same time.

Hearing Evelyn moan my name is the most bizarre type of violation. Because that video isn’t me, and I was never there.

All at once, I realize that Julia is out there somewhere thinking I was.

I duck out of the trailer, scanning for the sleazebag responsible for this. With fury surging through me, I spot him talking to Teri in front of his trailer, the two of them hunched over a tablet chatting.

“Richard, what the fuck? I quit the show so you decide to what? Fabricate the rest of the show?” I storm across the set straight at him. I want to pummel the shit out of him. He’s not just fucking with me now.

He’s fucking with the woman I love.

Teri steps into my path, pressing her hand to my shoulder to hold me back. “Emmett, whatever you’re about to do, cameras are always rolling, and he’s not worth going to jail for.”

I peer down my nose at the woman who’s been leading me through this sham for weeks. But it appears in a moment of clarity, she’s rediscovered her morals.

“Did you know about last night’s video?” I spit. “And do you know your boss is fucking his favorite contestant? Did he happen to tell you I quit the show?”

A few gasps ring out from around us, and Teri winces. “Listen, all I know is that I don’t have anything in writing.” She drops her voice to confess. “All he told me is that we needed a proper conclusion for TV, and we couldn’t count on you to deliver it.”

“Fucking right,” I retort as Richard saunters up to us like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “Because I quit. I’m done. Exactly like I told you last night. How am I supposed to get this through your thick fucking head, Dick Wad?”

“You threatened me, Emmett,” he says calmly. “And that’s fair. Some people would say I deserve it. But the truth of the matter is, you signed a binding contract. And I doubt you can afford to get out of it. And me? I still have a network to answer to. Millions of dollars invested. And creating a usable scene doesn’t violate a single thing. You’re too frigid to provide any of the footage we need. Fine. Then I’ll do it myself. As far as I’m concerned, you should thank me for making this so easy on you.”

With that, he spins on his heel and paces away, leaving me rooted in place, fists clenched and heart racing.

Every primal urge screams at me to run after him. Throw this hot fucking coffee in his face. Force him to spend more money at the plastic surgeon than he already does.

But I don’t move. Instead, I project my voice across the set, cold and clear. “Sue me then. Bankrupt me. See if I care. I’ve already got everything you’ll never have.”

The crew goes deathly still, deathly silent, as they filter forward to watch the confrontation. Richard freezes before turning slowly in my direction, his gaze narrowing on me.

But his glare doesn’t dissuade me. I continue, “From here on out you talk to my lawyer, and my lawyer only. I think he’ll be very interested in some of what I have to share with him. Now. Fuck. Off.”

His face is beet red, and he looks ready to explode.

But I don’t give him the chance. I turn to Teri and spit, “Sure hope your cameras caught that,” before I blow off the set like a tornado, leaving a wake of chaos behind myself.

I’ll deal with this mess later.

Right now, I only care about finding Julia.

The first place I head is to her condo. I ring the buzzer, again and again. I text her. I call her. All to no avail.

I hike to the top of Prickle Point, hoping she’ll be there. Getting some perspective. Or even just hiding out where people are less likely to look for her.

I try the diner. I ask Martha if she’s seen Julia, but she gives me a blank stare.

“Boy, you better not have hurt her.”

“I promise,” I reply. “I promise I would never hurt her. Not intentionally.”

A pained look flashes across Martha’s face. Because not intentionally is a giveaway.

She pats me on the shoulder with a sad-sounding “Good luck.”

I go to The Sugar Saloon, wondering if she went for a daytime drink. That’s what I would do in this situation.

But alas, all I find are regulars lining the wooden bar. It doesn’t stop me from asking if they’ve seen her.

“Pretty sure I’d remember if I saw someone like that around these parts,” a grizzled old man replies with a raspy chuckle. And I’m too distraught to get worked up over the innuendo.

Finally, I swallow my pride and drive to where Julia’s mom lives. She’s described it enough times. And to be honest, her family and her father’s legacy border on lore in this valley. The Silva family farm is certainly not some sort of top-secret location.

When I pull up through the orchard, my throat works. Panic courses through me, and a cold sweat breaks out on my forehead. I feel shaky—nauseous.

A strange sense of dread that I might never find her sinks in. I feel like I’m living in a nightmare. One where you’re trying to run, but your legs don’t seem to work. Or you’re trying to type, but you just can’t spell a single word right.

In this one, I’m searching and searching and constantly coming up empty. It’s irrational. And anxiety-inducing. And it has me spiraling.

Once upon a time, I thought the nightmare would be falling in love with someone.

But now I know the nightmare is finding that one person who knows you in a way that no one else does. Who sees you differently. The one who feels like home. The one who feels like the other half of your soul. And then not being able to find them.

That’s the nightmare. And now I’m living it.

All I know is I need her. I’d crawl through broken glass to find her. I don’t give a fuck. I just need to lay eyes on her.

It’s with that in mind that I jump out of my truck and shamelessly gun for her mother’s door. I knock more than is polite, but all sense of propriety has fled.

I’m working in pure panic mode now.

I thought I had something to cry about last night, but if I lose Julia, I will fucking crumble. I’m not even sure what’s happened with her.

Is she leaving me without a word? Is she injured or stuck somewhere? Every worst-case scenario flits through my head, adding to my anxiety.

I lift my fist to knock again, but the door moves beneath it.

And there stands her brother, Theo Silva, one of my greatest rivals. And a man who doesn’t think much of me.

Strangely, I still respect the hell out of him—not that I would ever tell him that.

“Bush, what do you want?”

“Have you seen Julia?”

“What? You’re not going to correct me and say, ‘Oh, it’s Brandt’?”

“Silva, I don’t give a fucking fuck about my last name right now. I need to know if you’ve seen Julia.”

His expression slips from taunting to concerned. “Not since last night. Why?”

I push both my shaky hands into my hair. Distraught. “I can’t find her, and I need to talk to her. And I…”

My voice breaks with emotion, which causes Theo to step outside and close the door behind himself. “Emmett, what did you do to her?”

“I didn’t do anything.” I hold my hands up. “Theo, I fucking promise you. I will shit-talk you to your face until the day I die, but I would lay down my life for your sister. I need to find her.”

Theo eyes me suspiciously, as though he’s not sure what to make of me. It’s the same look he was giving me during lunch yesterday.

“I’m sorry, Emmett,” he finally says. “I don’t know where she is. I haven’t seen her, but I can try to touch base. I’ll tell her to call you.”

“Okay,” I say, voice brimming with emotion as I glance around, searching for her, as though she might be hiding behind a tree or ready to pop out of a bush and shout, “Gotcha!”

But she doesn’t. And my panic swells.

I turn to walk away, but Theo brings me up short with some last words of warning.

“She’s too good for you,” he says simply, standing on the front step of the sprawling farmhouse.

My hands lift out wide and then drop as I scoff in defeat and meet his eyes. “Don’t you think I know that?”

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