When she moves to lift one leg to sit astride his lap, our connection snaps. Emmett shifts, jerking away as though he’s been burned. And it sends Evelyn tumbling off the blanket, toward the downhill slope.

She catches herself with her palms. Right on the clusters of cacti that I am all too familiar with. It elicits a shocked squeal from her as she rears back on her haunches and lifts her hands to inspect.

They are full of the same spines that I had in mine. She breathes hard, tears welling in her eyes, and if I didn’t irrationally dislike her as much as I do, I might sympathize with her.

Instead, I’m almost gleeful. And it reminds me of when I learned the German word schadenfreude during a philosophy course at university. It describes the feeling of finding pleasure in someone else’s troubles. And I remember thinking, what a perfect word because anyone who could look me in the eye and say they’ve never felt that way is a big, fat liar.

Which is why I don’t beat myself up as a nasty little voice inside of me murmurs “good.”

It’s just a little schadenfreude. Perfectly natural.

“Oh my god,” she whimpers. “Emmett, can you help me?”

I could stomach the kiss, but the thought of watching him take care of her the way he took care of me sends hot, stabbing, undeniable jealousy through my gut.

Emmett looks at her, then at me, his head tilting ever so slightly. Richard follows his line of sight, looking perplexed when it leads to me.

And after what Ben told me about the last location manager’s demise I don’t want to be at the center of whatever this is. So, I turn away, pretending to take a call that is entirely made up.

I don’t want to get myself into trouble and do not want to watch any retakes either.

Desperate to get away, I walk down the path, silent phone pressed to my ear, away from the scene playing out on camera. My presence is no longer necessary in any professional capacity. I’m just hanging around on set for no reason other than trying to learn as much as possible.

The tree line swallows me, but not before I hear Emmett’s voice ring out through the evening air. “Actually, I’m really not good with blood.”

A loud groan follows, then an irritated-sounding “Cut!”

I don’t turn back. I continue down the mountain feeling strangely flayed open and satisfied all at once.

Because Emmett seemed to handle my bloody hands just fine.

OceanofPDF.com

OceanofPDF.com

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 announce my presence.”

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.

“Funny,” I deadpan, covering for the unfamiliar warmth in my chest. She’s surprised me, but I’m not mad about her presence here. Still, I find it hard to look at her after yesterday.

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.”