CHAPTER 39
Julia
WE ARE OFFICIALLY nearing the final elimination ceremony, and I’m feeling jittery. I can’t explain why.
Maybe it’s that the show is ending, which means Emmett and I will have to face what this is and where we’re going. And we haven’t explicitly talked about the future or what this next year holds—we’ve been too busy fucking like rabbits.
Or maybe it’s because Richard has been suspiciously calm while still shooting me looks that are far too pleased to be anything other than unsettling. He asked me about my date, and I told him it was good while trying to sound more excited about it than I was. So maybe that’s why.
Or maybe it’s that damn interview with Teri. I haven’t been able to shake the feeling of Emmett’s eyes on mine while he recounted what it feels like to fall in love. It may very well have been for the cameras… but I also know it was real.
Which is both thrilling and exciting all at once.
I’ve distracted myself by checking over the producer notes for today’s set multiple times and neurotically ensuring that everything is in order. There is nothing left for me to do, so I decide that I don’t need to hang around here today.
I know there’s a part of Emmett that likes having me on set. My presence reassures him I’m not going anywhere. That even though he’s been told repeatedly that no one will want him, I keep showing up.
I know he needs that. But it’s also killing me to stand around and watch.
I choose to go for a drive. A quick trip to pick up my favorite bubble tea should settle my nerves. Or at the very least, get me off this set where each cord that’s plugged in feels like a step toward the gallows.
I hop in my car, heading past the bunkhouse and main farmhouse toward the backcountry road that will hook me up to the main highway. But when I hit the farm gate, I’m faced head-on with a truck that I won’t soon forget.
It’s white and slightly rusted out around the wheel wells. And behind the steering wheel sits Carl.
Now faced with him, I see red. After listening to the way Carl spoke to Emmett weeks ago, there’s a part of me that would like to kill him. But there’s an even bigger part of me that doesn’t want him entering the property.
Not when I know how he treats his son. And especially not when I know how uncomfortable Emmett is in front of the camera this late in the game.
There’s something tortured about him these days, something especially vulnerable about the way he looks at me on set. So yeah, over my dead body is Carl going to be entering this property.
Without much time to think, I do something stupid.
I could move over, but I don’t make room for him to edge past. Instead, I drive right in between the fence posts to fully block the gateway, throw my car into park, and turn it off. I make a show of acting frazzled behind my wheel, waving at him like I’m begging him to give me a moment to figure it out.
I fumble around in my car, acting like someone whose car magically stalled out in this exact spot and they have no idea what to do about it.
Eventually, I open my door, step out, and dramatically mouth Sorry in his direction.
He opens his window and leans his head out. “What’s the issue?” he grumbles as he slaps his hand against the door of his truck, looking downright exasperated.
I try not to smile. “I don’t know! It just stalled and won’t start again.”
“Let me look under the hood. Pop it. Or do you even know how to do that?”
Left to my own devices, I would definitely love the opportunity to kill Carl Bush.
“Oh, I couldn’t bother you with that,” I reply with fake sweetness.
“Not a bother if it gets you out of my way,” he says, stepping out and slamming his door behind him. “I’ve got important business here on the farm. My son, Emmett, asked me here.”
My blood pressure spikes as he steps out of his car.
Carl Bush is the type of man I’ve spent the last two years avoiding at all costs.
“No, he didn’t,” I say, calling his bluff. I don’t want this man anywhere near Emmett.
The man stops and regards me skeptically. His eyes are watery and cruel.
“I’m his father,” he bites out, like that means a single thing after the way he’s treated him.
“Yup. And he turned out well despite you.”
“Aha!” Carl laughs, an evil raspy laugh. “I get it now. You’re spreading your legs for him.” He shakes his head, chuckling to himself, like this is entertaining.
“Honey, one day you’re going to wake up and realize you’re just another gash in a string of meaningless fucks. The only thing that boy has ever cared about is himself and his career. And something tells me you’re about to learn that the hard way.”
His cruel words are intended to cause damage, but I don’t let them. Instead, I stand with a cocked hip staring him down, like the pathetic little man I know he is. One who’s been picking on a ten-year-old boy for the past two decades.
Emmett told me once that having no dad wasn’t always worse than having one.
I didn’t understand it then, but I do now.
And my heart breaks for him. For what he’s been through. And for what he continues to endure.
I suspect he only tolerates Carl and his shit to protect the Brandts and their peace.
“Say what you will, Carl. You tried to break him, and you failed. You don’t know him at all, but I do. I’ve seen the best version of him, a version that you’ll never get to see, because he’ll never share it with you. He knows you’re trash, and so do I. So why don’t you—”
The click of a gun loading freezes me in place.
“Go fuck yourself, Carl.” Emmett’s oma, Tina, snarls from behind me, where she’s emerged from behind one of the farm’s outbuildings. “That’s what the girl was about to say. Go fuck yourself. But I will elaborate by adding, fuck all the way off, you piece of absolute trash—you know you’re not welcome on this property.”
The man rolls his eyes at the old woman and the large hunting rifle she’s pointing in his direction.
“Roll your eyes again, sonny. I’ll blast you off the face of this planet. Let my daughter finally rest and my grandson sleep peacefully. You’re lucky I haven’t caught you sneaking onto my property before this.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Don’t try me. You’ve messed with Emmett for long enough. I’m not letting you intimidate her.” The clicking sound of her disengaging the safety echoes in the tense atmosphere. “So watch yourself. You don’t grow up on a farm and end up a shitty shot, Carl.”
“Calm down, Tina. I’m just here to see my boy.”
“Carl, that child has never been your boy. He’s my boy. You’re just a trespasser and sperm donor. So, if you don’t take your janky-ass truck off my property and never come back, I’m going to show you exactly how my daddy taught me to shoot. And I’ll give you a hint—it’s not to kill, and it’s not between the eyes.”
She lowers her gun slightly, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see that she’s pointed it directly at Carl’s penis.
“Fucking brat bitches,” he mumbles before turning to walk back to his truck.
But Tina doesn’t let him get the last word. “That’s right, loser. Run away from the little brat bitches.”
His face is beet red, contorted with rage when he turns back to look at her. But he doesn’t bother saying another word. He gets into his truck and flees.
Like the little brat bitch I always suspected existed under all that bluster.
When he finally pulls away, I can properly check in with myself.
My heart is racing. My breathing has gone shallow. And when I lift my hand to splay it on my chest, it trembles.
I jump when a hand lands on my shoulder, but one quick look to my right eases that anxiety instantly.
“You did good,” Tina says, gun propped under her arm, a wistful smile on her face. “You didn’t have to do that, but you did good.”
“He’s fucking infuriating.”
She wheezes a laugh. “Don’t I know it. Watching my daughter bring that man home was an exercise in patience. Still is.”
“Yeah,” I reply breathlessly. “That must have been something.”
“It’s hard to watch your kids make mistakes,” Tina says firmly, dropping her hand from my shoulder. “But it has to be done. You interfere too much, they resent you. You let them sink a little while in the deep end, and they reach to you
for comfort. And they’ll always come back. You’ve got to let them make their mistakes, even when you know they’re dating a fucking loser.”
I snort out a surprised laugh. Somehow, I didn’t expect Emmett’s oma to be this candid with me when we barely know each other.
“Yeah, I imagine Emmett has given you a run for your money in that department.”
She smiles, kind eyes sparkling in my direction. “Indeed, he has. But you know what? He figured it out. After all, it just took the right girl to bring it out in him.
And to see him now? Smitten? Well, it was worth every bump in the road.”
I blink in shock, not knowing whether I should confirm or deny anything she’s just said.
Then she pats me on the back rather roughly. I kind of suspect this is about as sentimental as Tina Brandt gets.
She chuckles as she walks away, hiking the rifle up under her arm. “God, I can’t wait to tell him about you giving Carl a piece of your mind.”
“Thanks for helping. I owe you one,” I call to her, because I have no idea how that would have gone without her interference.
She waves her hand dismissively. “You already brought my boy back to life.
You don’t owe me shit.”
She walks away, leaving me speechless. And then with a racing heart and a full head, I head out to pick up my favorite bubble tea.
Because if I thought I was anxious before, I have no idea what I am now.
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
