Fever Dream (Emerald Lake, #1)(51)

Possessiveness flashes hot and bright inside me. It comes in a searing wave that washes over me when she mentions living on the farm. Here. In my valley. Where I’d run into them.

It’s not like I personally want to live on the farm with Emmett. That’s not even on the table. But I sure as shit don’t want Evelyn doing it. Living that life. Having breakfast with the Brandts. All at once, I feel fiercely protective of their family—of what they’ve built here.

“Wow,” Evelyn breathes, pushing up onto her knees to face over the ridge. Her hand stays on Emmett’s knee.

From somewhere a few people down, Richard whispers eagerly, “Yes, perfect. Just like we talked about. Good girl, Evelyn.”

I swallow down my growing disdain for the man and remind myself that I’m just here to do my job.

But it doesn’t help the lurching sensation that’s taken over my gut. I will it away, but it sticks there, consuming me with every passing second. Unease spreads through me as I watch them.

The sinking sensation is making me worry that somewhere along the way, Emmett has started to feel less like a job and more like… something else. Something he shouldn’t.

As the sun drops toward the low-slung mountains, the light atop Prickle Point takes on a golden pinkish hue, casting the entire set in a stunning glow.

And like that’s her signal, Evelyn leans in toward Emmett.

“This has been the perfect date,” she whispers, just loud enough for the cameras to pick up.

I know what’s coming, and I want to look away… but I can’t.

I freeze, staring raptly as Evelyn draws closer to Emmett’s mouth.

Her arms hook over his shoulders, but his hands stay planted behind his body where he’s propped himself up on the checkered blanket.

I suck in a harsh breath when her lips press against his, my throat constricting as I look on in fascinated dismay.

He freezes. His hands stay planted on the ground. His eyes stay open. They land on mine.

She’s kissing him, but he’s looking at me.

This is what we’re here for. This is the job. And still, a trickle of unwelcome nausea roils in my throat as I hold his gaze. He looks… mortified.

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.





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.