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.”

OceanofPDF.com

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER 44

Emmett

Julia

How could you?

The words flash across my screen right as I step onto set. Now that I’ve settled on quitting and have given my lawyer all the information he needs, I’m only here to look for Julia.

My hangover lingers, but I still managed to drag myself here a little bit early in hopes that I could head her off before anyone else gets the chance to tell her the big news.What are you talking about? I text back, a thread of worry weaving through my fuzzy conscience.

My brows furrow as I stare down at my phone hoping I’ll see those rolling dots that tell me she’s writing back. But they don’t come and I’m too antsy to stand around waiting. All I know is I need to find her.

Because after my conversation with Oma and Opa last night, I don’t give a fuck about the pretense or appearances or what Richard might think.

Jules is my top priority.

I pop my head into the production trailer, with a cup of steaming hot coffee in hand. My bewilderment only mounts as I face a room full of crew members who appear to be hard at work.

But what do I know about all that goes into canceling a show that was almost finished recording. I’m here for one person, and one person only.

“Good morning. Has anyone seen Julia yet?”

Ben, the director of photography, turns and smiles at me. “She was literally just here, but took off. You look chipper this morning.”