I freeze, head turning toward him, as though I’ve misheard what he just said.
“Yeah, you kids think you’re so smart. Acting like Oma and I don’t know about your little clubhouse.”
“I’m sorry. Right now? Julia is in the crawl space?”
“Yes, that’s what I said.”
I point below myself with a shaking hand. “Downstairs. With Parker.”
“Yes, unfortunately, the sound insulation in this house is not nearly as good as you all seem to think it is.”
Part of me wants to cringe over that revelation, but I gloss over it, deciding to share that tidbit with my siblings another day.
For now, I opt to race to the basement. My feet thump as I run down the stairs, striding briskly across the floor, past the pool table, and straight to the wood panel door.
Without bothering to announce myself or knock, I rip it open and all the air leaves my lungs when I lay eyes on her.
Relief crashes over me—furious or heartbroken as she may be, at least she’s safe.
I fall to my knees and let out a sigh, chin dropping to my chest as I whisper, “Oh, thank god.”
In front of me, Parker and Julia are sprawled on their backs, an expensive bottle of bourbon between them, and they are laughing.
In time, they lift their heads as though it takes a Herculean effort to do so, eyes glassy as they struggle to focus on me.
“Emmie!” Parker shouts, pulling out one of my more embarrassing childhood nicknames.
Julia just regards me with wide eyes before requesting, “Emmett, say something.”
“I’ve been looking for you all day. I have searched hell’s half acre for you, Julia. Not being able to find you scared the shit out of me.”
She looks at Parker with a firm nod before announcing, “No, the voice totally doesn’t match up.” They speak as if I’m not kneeling before them. As though I’m not present at all.
“Well, that’s great news! Today is looking up! We don’t have to tar and feather Emmett after all!” My sister rolls onto her side and reaches for the glass bottle, corking it. “All in a day’s work, old boy,” she says, patting the bottle like it’s done a good job.
Then, she gets on her hands and knees to crawl past Jules and out of our tiny safe space. “Oh, Emmie, I’m just so happy for you,” she mumbles, using my body as a handrail to move into the open basement behind me.
I make a mental note to check on her later. Because being drunk this early in the day is not what the most responsible of our foursome typically does.
But right now, all I can see is Julia. All I can think about is Julia. And I can’t stop myself from crawling across the Persian rugs and laying myself beside her.
I curl into her side, my ear on her chest, my arm over her ribs, my leg tangled with hers. I cling to her like a child might to their stuffed animal before whispering, “I am so fucking sorry.”
She breathes in deeply, as though memorizing my scent before raking her fingers through my curls. “Me too. Me too.”
“I saw the footage. But you need to know that I quit the show. Then I slept here at my grandparents’ house last night after confessing to them that I blew it all up. Richard tried to force my hand but—”
Her fingers pause. “You quit?”
I nod.
“But the contract—”
“Doesn’t matter.” I cut her off, searching the depths of her pretty brown eyes. “I’m not spending another moment on set, Julia. I’m not doing this to you. Fuck, I’m not doing this to us.”
Without another word, she rolls me onto my back, and she kisses me. And it tastes like bourbon, but it feels like relief.
Julia is drunk as a skunk. So when we’re finished making out, I carry her out of the house and down the dirt road.
I carry her right across that fucking set for every shitty, predatory producer to see, and I look Richard in the eye while I do it.
I go straight to my cottage, where I find the camera propped on the top shelf of the closet. I wave into it and say, “Fuck you, and fuck your show, Richard,” before tossing a cap over it and taking my girl to bed.
Curled up in bed, I hold her.
My fingers trail through her wild tresses in a continuous soothing motion. She smells sweet like bourbon and looks peaceful.
When I marched her into my room like a caveman and swooped us both under the covers, she succumbed to a drunken fit of giggles. But soon her laughing subsided, replaced by contented sighs, and then the deep, even breaths that come with peaceful sleep.
I watch her now. A pink tinge from long days spent in the sun kisses her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Dark eyelashes rest against her skin. They remind me of a doll my mother once had, which Oma has held on to till this day.
Julia’s lips part slightly, her breath escaping gently between them.
It’s her hands, though. Her fingers grip the fabric of my T-shirt when every other part of her body has slipped into relaxation. They curl into the fabric, squeezing me, pulling me closer, as though begging me to stay.
The guilt of making her subconsciously second-guess my loyalty or my desire to be anywhere but with her hits me hard. It makes every joint in my body throb with pain.
I’ve spent years telling myself I’d never fall in love because it would hurt too much to lose that person. What I didn’t realize is that the ultimate pain would be the thought of not having her at all.
I slip my hand over her back, tugging her closer, needing her nearer. Her leg hitches over my hip, one hand slowly releasing my shirt as it slips up my chest, my throat, and around the back of my neck, as though she trusts me to carry her through this.
And I’m not sure I deserve that trust, but I know without a shadow of a doubt in my mind that I will work myself to death to be worthy.
For her, there’s literally nothing I wouldn’t do. It’s a shocking realization, especially for someone who’s toed the line of selfishness for so many years.
I stare at her doll-like face, realizing that she’s changed me profoundly, deeply. She’s captured my heart and altered my entire mindset. She’s left an indelible mark on my soul, brought back to life a part of me that I didn’t even realize had died on a snowy back road on Christmas Day twenty-two years ago.
I never lost my ability to love, but I lost my desire to seek it out.
Until she found me.
A soft, contented sigh spills from her lips, and I’m taken back to that night on the cruise ship.
I’d sat awake watching her, counting her breaths, praying to a God I’ve never believed in for her to take one more. I’d stayed back, kept a respectable distance. I didn’t know her then. Not like I do now.
Back then, I sat at the foot of the bed. Now I can’t get close enough to satisfy my need to be near her.
“Emmett,” she murmurs, nuzzling her face into the crook of my neck. “Don’t go.”
I don’t think she’s aware of what she’s saying, or why, but I kiss the tip of her nose and burrow close. “There’s nowhere else for me to be.”
With her in my arms, I allow myself to rest and relax for the first time in days.
And when the sound of my phone ringing wakes us, we’re still clinging to each other, in a warm, tangled mess of limbs.
Julia groans, one hand reaching for her forehead as she rolls onto her back. “This was not the way to ease myself back into alcohol.”
I chuckle, kissing the top of her hand. “Let me grab this. Then I’ll make you some food. Get you back on your feet.”
I reach over her to swipe my phone off the bedside table. The contract lawyer’s name flashing across my screen has me pushing up to sitting, going from dopey to alert in one fell swoop.