Fever dream

CHAPTER 20

Emmett

I WAKE UP EARLY with an unfamiliar weight pressing against my sternum.

Guilt.

Partially because kissing Evelyn felt all wrong, but also because Prickle Point holds so many memories for me. Wholesome family memories with people I love. Parker, Riley, Evan, Oma, and Opa.

If I close my eyes, I can even see flashes of having gone there with my mom and dad.

And now I’ve sullied it.

The discomfort of lying with that realization draws me out of bed before the sun is even up. It has me agitated and unsettled.

I make a pot of coffee and scroll social media, but I’m distracted. Not myself. Like a dog with fleas, I can’t stop itching, can’t get comfortable.

All I want is space and fresh air, to move my body. This unrest is what drives me to do risky things. It’s what gets me on a bull. It’s what sends me searching for my next conquest.

Neither of which is an option right now. So I pour my coffee into a thermos, slip into a pair of gym shorts, lace up my sneakers, and make my way out of the cottage. I pop my earbuds in to blast something distracting and head toward Prickle Point.

When I hit the trail, I decide I won’t just go for a simple hike. I make it hurt and run the incline just to challenge myself—just to clear my mind. My lungs burn as badly as my quads do. They are screaming by the time I near the top.

The air is still cool against my damp skin as I suck in deep breaths and slow to a walk, approaching the peak.

I wipe the back of my hand over my forehead and sigh. The view from here makes the pain worth it. And I’ve made it just in time to watch the sun come up over the horizon.

“Yeah. You’ve got this.” I puff the words out as I gaze at the sky. Giving myself a pat on the back for adding the memory of an intense cardio workout to Evelyn straddling my lap.

Genius.

Shaking my head, I take a sip of my coffee. It’s not refreshing, but I know I’ll need the caffeine boost to make it through today.

The sound of a throat clearing startles me. “In the interest of not being a creepy back seat prowler like someone I know, I feel the need to a

I spin, and there is Julia. Hair pulled up in a high ponytail, spilling down her neck like a waterfall. Her face is scrubbed clean, and she’s wearing those tight little bike shorts she’s always sporting, along with an oversize Stal Brandt crewneck.

The sight of our family farm logo emblazoned across her chest sends an unexpected surge of pleasure through me.

“Fu

I’m tempted to apologize. To beg her to forgive me. And for what? She understands what this show is. Hell, she’s the one who told me to own it—to sell it. She probably doesn’t care at all. And yet the guilt from this morning floods my senses, rushing through me like water from a broken dam.

I turn back to face the valley just to escape the sensation. It’s one I don’t know that I’ve felt before where my love life is concerned. Shame. Remorse. Regret.

She moves forward carefully, coming to stand beside me. Her elbow brushes mine, a gentle olive branch extended. And I make no move to create any space between us.

“Are you stalking me, Baby Silva?”

Julia snorts. “You wish.”

I joggle my head, not entirely mad at the idea.

It only earns me an eye roll.

“What are you doing here?”

She hikes a thumb over her shoulder, pointing out a black garbage bag. “Making sure the crew didn’t leave any garbage or equipment behind so the city can’t find any reason to fine us. Very glamorous, I know.”

The sun is just peeking over the horizon. She works too hard, but I don’t tell her that. Instead, I nod, peering out over the lake, toward the mayor’s house. Palatial in its design, the home takes up several waterfront lots. “Good call, the mayor is a royal douchebag.”

She peers up at me. “Oh, yeah?”

I shrug. “Parker dated his son pretty seriously. Ended poorly. Now I have to hate their entire bloodline purely out of solidarity.”

I do hate the mayor. I also hate everything he stands for. Cascade Valley is a study in juxtaposition. From up here, you can see it plain as day. The ultrawealthy all blend in with the ultrahardworking. Perfectly manicured downtown streets bleed into high-end neighborhoods, then stretches of farms. Most lakefront property gets snapped up at eye-bulging prices by professional athletes and corporations hoping to build resorts. The rest of us are left clinging to the outskirts, trying to make a living and keep our heads above water.

I glance over as Julia nods, gazing out over the valley serenely. Warm, rosy light illuminates her every feature. She looks beautiful. It’s a sight I’ll never forget.

She takes me aback when she declares, “Now I hate them too.”

I can’t help it. I bark out a laugh, gazing back at her with approval. “Just like that?”

She shrugs. “Just like that.” She points at the front of her sweatshirt. “I’m Team Brandt.”

I turn and gaze over the valley again, trying my damnedest not to gawk at her. “I appreciate that, actually. Seems like every other member of the crew is Team Bottom Line.”

Or Team Evelyn. I don’t want her here. I just want to stand beside this woman—one I genuinely enjoy—and soak in the view.

“Most of them are,” she replies with no hint of doubt.

I incline my head toward her. “Show isn’t what you thought it would be?”

She smiles, the painted sky reflecting on her glossy lips. “No.”

“You’re in good company then.”

“Gotta tough it out, though. I need this on my résumé.”

“For what?”

She sighs wistfully. “The next gig.”

“Which is?”

She glances over at me. “Eventually? Major motion pictures. Directing, hopefully.” Her expression turns bashful. “A pie-in-the-sky goal, I guess.”

“You can do it.”

She turns to face me now. “You don’t know that.”

“Yeah, I do. You’re here at the crack of dawn putting in the hours. You’re the last one to leave at night. It’ll happen.”

She snorts, as though she’s amused by my belief in her. “You sound like my dad.”

Any bull rider in the world would be honored to be compared to Gabriel Silva. “Do I now?”

“When I was little, I asked him what he’d do if he couldn’t be a professional bull rider. And he told me in that lilting Portuguese accent of his that he’d direct action movies. Mission Impossible. Top Gun. Movies with explosions and stunts. But where he didn’t have to put himself at risk. He knew I always worried about him riding, so now I wonder if he only said that to pacify me.”

She chuckles fondly, tongue darting out over her bottom lip. “But that was the same day I told him I wanted to direct movies too. At first, it started out as a little girl’s dad hero worship, but over time, it became… real. He always told me I could make it happen if I worked hard enough. Well, until…”

She hits me with the saddest smile. One that has me rushing in to patch up the wound she’s just revealed to me.

“Wise words from a wise man.”

Lines crop up beside her eyes as she squints to regard me. Like she isn’t sure what to make of me right now.

“He was a good dad.”

I dip my chin in agreement. “I have no doubt.”

She turns away, looking at the rising sun. “Sorry yours sucks. I shouldn’t be waxing poetic about mine knowing what I know.”

A snort lurches from me. “You can talk about him to me any time you want. Mine… well, he is what he is.”

“Do you see him much?”

I give a sharp shake of my head. “No.”

“So you’ve gone no contact?”

I sigh. Fucking Carl. He’s a fucking prickle in my ass. “No, not that either.”

“Why not?”

“I guess…” I grapple with my next words. “I guess after losing one dad, completely cutting out another one—shitty as he might be—feels like a big step. Go

“Healthy,” Julia deadpans.

And I find myself watching her. Wondering why I am so damn comfortable talking to her. Sharing with her.

It’s fully out of character for me. But when she’s around, I’m like a leaky fucking faucet, dripping my baggage all over the goddamn place.

“Yeah, he can be awful. Yeah, he’s hard on me. But I’m only as good a bull rider as I am thanks to him. He’s a piece of shit, but he’s a hell of a coach. And I’ve learned to endure his tirades and pluck out the useful bits of wisdom he weaves in with all the insults. It’s easier than the drama of cutting him out completely.” I shrug before adding, “Not all of us get Gabriel Silva as a mentor.”

I raise a brow at her, referring to Rhett Eaton, her brother’s friend and coach, who was Gabriel’s lucky chosen one when he first started on the circuit.

“Okay, well, when you’re ready to hate him in solidarity, let me know. I’m game for that too.” She points at her sweater again while tossing me a wink. “Team Brandt, not Bush.”

Team Brandt. Not Bush.

God, no wonder I don’t want to kiss any of the contestants.

Not when she’s everywhere. Just being her. Making me question everything with the most simple sentiments.

I know I’m not after a relationship, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to just… spend time around Julia. Surprisingly, we get along. And there’s nothing wrong with enjoying her company while we’re both stuck here, working on a show that is nothing like we thought it would be.

She might be the only person on this set that I have anything in common with. And I can’t seem to stay away from her, so why keep fighting it?

Like she’s giving her silent agreement, we fall into a companionable silence, watching the sun rise side by side. Birds chirp in the trees, signaling the start of a new day, and the swelter of Emerald Lake’s summer expands over the horizon, heating the air.

“Beautiful,” she murmurs, dark eyes glowing as she soaks it all in. There’s something soothing about her—peaceful.

I swallow and shift on my feet. The sunrise might be even more jaw-dropping than the sunset. Or maybe it’s just the company. “Keep this time of day under wraps or Richard will drag us back up here to film another kiss take,” I joke. Trying to test the waters after last night. Make sure that she’s not… I don’t know.

That she doesn’t hate me. For some reason I can’t stand the thought of Julia Silva hating me.

“Please, he’s going to have to hire a coach for you after last night.” Then she leans toward me, bumping her shoulder against mine in a show of camaraderie. “You were awkward as fuck, Bud.”