He winks at me, and my brows furrow. “Uh, thanks? I guess quitting the show really took a weight off my shoulders,” I say, not sure why he seems so happy about the entire show crashing and burning.

“Quitting the show?” Now it’s his turn to look confused. “Is that what we’re calling last night with you and Evelyn?”

His tone is teasing. He’s lost me completely. “Me and Evelyn?”

“Yeah, you know… after last night. Or wait, are we doing the a gentleman never tells thing even though it’s all on camera?”

I step up into the trailer, that thread of concern fraying into something akin to dread. Each loose string wraps itself around me. “What do you mean?”

“Dude. Did you kill too many brain cells last night?” He turns back to the computer and hits play.

Then, right before my eyes, a horrific scene unfolds. One that makes me sick and furious at the same time.

Hearing Evelyn moan my name is the most bizarre type of violation. Because that video isn’t me, and I was never there.

All at once, I realize that Julia is out there somewhere thinking I was.

I duck out of the trailer, scanning for the sleazebag responsible for this. With fury surging through me, I spot him talking to Teri in front of his trailer, the two of them hunched over a tablet chatting.

“Richard, what the fuck? I quit the show so you decide to what? Fabricate the rest of the show?” I storm across the set straight at him. I want to pummel the shit out of him. He’s not just fucking with me now.

He’s fucking with the woman I love.

Teri steps into my path, pressing her hand to my shoulder to hold me back. “Emmett, whatever you’re about to do, cameras are always rolling, and he’s not worth going to jail for.”

I peer down my nose at the woman who’s been leading me through this sham for weeks. But it appears in a moment of clarity, she’s rediscovered her morals.

“Did you know about last night’s video?” I spit. “And do you know your boss is fucking his favorite contestant? Did he happen to tell you I quit the show?”

A few gasps ring out from around us, and Teri winces. “Listen, all I know is that I don’t have anything in writing.” She drops her voice to confess. “All he told me is that we needed a proper conclusion for TV, and we couldn’t count on you to deliver it.”

“Fucking right,” I retort as Richard saunters up to us like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “Because I quit. I’m done. Exactly like I told you last night. How am I supposed to get this through your thick fucking head, Dick Wad?”

“You threatened me, Emmett,” he says calmly. “And that’s fair. Some people would say I deserve it. But the truth of the matter is, you signed a binding contract. And I doubt you can afford to get out of it. And me? I still have a network to answer to. Millions of dollars invested. And creating a usable scene doesn’t violate a single thing. You’re too frigid to provide any of the footage we need. Fine. Then I’ll do it myself. As far as I’m concerned, you should thank me for making this so easy on you.”

With that, he spins on his heel and paces away, leaving me rooted in place, fists clenched and heart racing.

Every primal urge screams at me to run after him. Throw this hot fucking coffee in his face. Force him to spend more money at the plastic surgeon than he already does.

But I don’t move. Instead, I project my voice across the set, cold and clear. “Sue me then. Bankrupt me. See if I care. I’ve already got everything you’ll never have.”

The crew goes deathly still, deathly silent, as they filter forward to watch the confrontation. Richard freezes before turning slowly in my direction, his gaze narrowing on me.

But his glare doesn’t dissuade me. I continue, “From here on out you talk to my lawyer, and my lawyer only. I think he’ll be very interested in some of what I have to share with him. Now. Fuck. Off.”

His face is beet red, and he looks ready to explode.

But I don’t give him the chance. I turn to Teri and spit, “Sure hope your cameras caught that,” before I blow off the set like a tornado, leaving a wake of chaos behind myself.

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?”