Fever Dream (Emerald Lake, #1)(70)

I trust my gut, start my car, and drive away from the set. Pulling out, I turn right. It’s not the way home or the way back to Stal Brandt. It’s just one random way to go. And I spend the next couple of hours driving around the valley, stopping at a few of my favorite spots, including my dad’s gravesite.

I never got to know him that well, and in some ways it’s hard to navigate how I feel about his passing. It’s difficult to miss what you never had. But if nothing else, visiting my dad brings me solace.

I’ve heard wonderful stories about him, seen the impact that he had on my brother and on my mom—a woman who has entertained brief relationships but who I don’t think will ever truly move on.

So he seems as good a person as any to confess my confusion to.

I sit on the dry earth and talk to him. “Well, Dad. I got the dream first job. The one that steers me straight down the path to that big-time movie job you convinced me I could do if I set my mind to it. But I… I’m worried I’m going to fuck it all up.”

With a dark chuckle, I run my palms over the bristly grass in front of his headstone. Then I blurt it all out.

I tell him about the cruise ship and Emmett. I tell him about Emmett’s reputation and the tension between him and Theo. I tell him about the quiet hours spent chatting at the diner. I tell him about the kiss. I tell him about the bitter jealousy that swirls inside of me as I’m forced to watch Emmett navigate this show.

I tell my dad details that most daughters probably wouldn’t, but he’s dead, so what the fuck ever.

Hell, I get really comfortable and even tell him about the prickles in my ass and the boner episode that followed.

Getting it all off my chest leaves me more centered. Like I’ve gained some perspective. Like the pressure in my lungs that made me feel as though I was about to explode has finally dissipated a bit.

It’s also left me hungry. Which is why I trudge back to my car, hop in, and head straight to the diner. It’s never too late for an omelet.

I weave through the darkened streets of Emerald Lake until I pull up in front of Martha’s Diner. As I step out of my car, the neon sign on the roof hums, filling the air. One deep inhale of the dusty parking lot comforts me. It urges me forward. I yank the door open with a jingle, and Martha’s head snaps up from behind the cash register.

“Wasn’t sure you were coming in tonight, but that boy of yours is waiting already.”

“Boy of mine?” I ask, confused for a moment.

She winks at me. “Right over there, doll. Table in the corner. The one with the curly hair? He’s not dressed like a cowboy businessman tonight. And honestly?” Her tone turns wistful as she glances in his direction. “If I had to switch teams…” she says with a raspy chuckle.

My gaze lands on Emmett sitting in the corner booth at the back of the restaurant. “Yeah.” I breathe the word.

Because I know exactly what she means. He has that effect on women. Or maybe it’s just that I’m thrown off Emmett’s here. At my place. Waiting for me.

“You all right, Julia?”

“I don’t know,” I confess to her, eyes still on Emmett. “I’m worried I might be in the process of making a very big mistake.”

“Good,” Martha startles me by saying. “You’re about due for some mistake-making. You know Danielle and I love having you here every night. But, baby, that’s not healthy. Two middle-aged women shouldn’t be your only friends in the world. And I for one am glad to see you’re not isolating yourself so much. You’re young. You’re smart. You’re beautiful. Life is messy, stop being a germophobe.”

A sad laugh pitches from the back of my throat. I have been isolating myself and I’m not even sure I noticed it happening. I got scared and I went into hiding. Now the thought of emerging from the safety of my burrow feels… daunting.

“He’s already got two menus over there for you, doll. Go make that mistake. I bet that man could teach you a thing or two. Plus, look at those forlorn little puppy eyes. Go put him out of his misery.”

I peek over at him, and sure enough. Those emotive baby blues are latched on to me. Practically begging me to come closer. I give Martha a quick smile, and a side hug, murmuring, “Thank you for the pep talk,” before walking away.

Wishing things were as simple as the wise woman seems to think.

I weave through the long, narrow diner. Emmett’s face lifts to take me in as I draw near.

“Hey,” I say cautiously.

He smiles, but it’s pinched and doesn’t reach his eyes. “I didn’t know if you were going to show up.”

“How long have you been waiting here?” I pause near the booth as he shrugs and looks out the window.

“I don’t know. An hour? Maybe two?”

Two hours.

I was sitting at my dad’s gravesite, chatting away, spilling my guts, and Emmett was sitting here waiting. Hoping that maybe—just maybe—I’d show up.

“Why didn’t you call me? Or text me? Or something?”

“Left my phone on the table at the bar after we finished recording for the night. Didn’t feel like going back in once I’d made my way out. I’ll get it tomorrow.” He waves a hand across the air in front of him dismissively. “You going to sit down or just stand there gawking at me like an awkward weirdo?”