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?”
CHAPTER 45
Emmett
Richard
You think you can just quit this show with one week to go? I’ve got news for you, asshole. I’ll ruin you.
Richard
Come back to set. Do your job. And maybe if you try hard enough, I’ll overlook your outburst. Otherwise? Kiss this farm goodbye. Your family. Your girlfriend. Poof. Gone. You’ll be a washed-up has-been like your daddy.
Richard
You don’t want to see what I’m capable of. I can promise you that.
The world is hazy and moving in slow motion around me. I see Richard’s texts, but I don’t respond. I quit and I meant it. I also told him to contact my lawyer so these messages just reek of desperation.
He knows he fucked up.
But so have I.
I waited too long to quit. And now Julia’s been caught in the cross fire.
I spend the drive back to Oma and Opa’s place berating myself for signing up for this show in the first place. Without it, I may not have met Julia again, but I also wouldn’t have ended up hurting her. And that might have been better. I’d prefer to live with that.
I tread through the front door defeated. I’m at a loss about what to do, short of filing a police report.
I feel ready to collapse into a ball, let myself crumble. I kick off my boots and head toward the addition that’s home to all four of our bedrooms. When I run into Opa in the entryway, he gives me an appraising once-over.
“You look like shit, son. Kinda thought you could hold your liquor better than that.”
Then he reaches for his shoehorn before heading toward the door.
“It’s not the booze,” I rasp. I’m too hollowed out to cry, even though part of me wants to. “It’s Julia.”
Opa’s brows furrow. “Julia, the girl you’re in love with?”
I sigh, almost afraid to admit it out loud in the wake of what’s happened today. Might be easier to prepare myself for the inevitable. Maybe there’s a way to force myself to stop loving her, so that losing her doesn’t hurt quite this badly.
I settle on just shrugging.
“The Julia who’s currently in the crawl space, drinking bourbon with your sister?”