Fever Dream (Emerald Lake, #1)(108)

So why would he do this after the day we spent together?

None of it makes sense. It doesn’t add up. I can’t reconcile it.

And the more time I spend with a hand propped against the trailer, replaying every moment we’ve shared over the past months, the more I feel like this can’t possibly be true.

Maybe it’s cognitive dissonance. Maybe it’s the only way I can function through having my heart crushed like this—the devastation of what I saw. The lingering possibility that it actually happened.

“What the fuck?” I mutter, raising a hand to press at my temple.

“Julia?” Parker’s voice is full of concern, and when I turn to face her, so is her expression.

She drops her gaze to my vomit in the grass, then her eyes travel their way back up with that shrewd appraisal she’s so good at. There’s something incredibly bright about Parker. She’s emotionally intelligent, if not terribly outgoing, which is why it makes sense that she steps closer and holds her hand out.

“I would ask you if you’re okay, but you’re clearly not.”

I offer her a wobbly smile and stare at her hand. She tips her head and adds, “Come on, let’s go. I’ve got the perfect place for us right now.”

Not knowing what else to do with myself, I take her hand and follow.



* * *



“Here, have some of this.” She shoves a bottle of amber liquor toward me.

“Parker, I can’t have any of that.”

“Why not?” She furrows her brows, baffled that I wouldn’t want bourbon on an empty stomach at nine thirty in the morning while hiding out in her oma and opa’s dingy crawl space.

“Oh shit, are you pregnant?” Parker blurts, her eyes wide.

“No, I’m not pregnant, it’s just—”

She cuts me off by pressing the bottle against my chest. “Then, unfortunately for you, this is a rite of passage. It’s part of being a Brandt. When shit goes bad, we drink in the crawl space.”

When shit goes bad?

Shit is really, really bad.

“If it’s any consolation, in one of my less fine moments I lost my temper and told my political science professor that he has the personality of a pebble this morning.”

“Oof. How did that go over?”

“Well, I doubt it helped my case. And I’m going to be stuck taking a class with him in the fall again, soooo… I’m going to drink, whether you do or not.”

Parker looks as distraught as I feel.

“You know what?” I eye the bottle, then rip the top off. “Yeah.”

I lift it to my lips and take a long swig. Fire shoots down my throat, burns my stomach, and then it spreads a slow warmth through me in a way that I need right now.

“I’m not a Brandt, though.”

Parker scoffs like I’ve just announced I believe in unicorns. “Not yet. But I see things. I know things.”

“No, I’m serious.” I take another swig. The liquid sloshing against the glass only makes me feel more pathetic. “There’s footage of him inviting Evelyn into his cottage last night.”

Parker barks out a laugh, reaching for the bourbon and taking a swig of her own. She wipes the back of her hand across her mouth with a light hiss. “Fuck, it really is early. Just remember that I’m only doing this because I like you, Julia.” She points at me. “But not as much as my brother likes you. And that’s saying something. Because for the most part, Emmett doesn’t allow himself to like anyone.”

I send her a look that says you’re making shit up just to comfort me.

“I’m serious. When our parents died, it was like his world fell apart around him. In that moment, he turned in a circle and decided that only the people he could see would make the cut. Then the walls went up.”

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.”