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.”
