Page 14 of Fever Dream
So, in one of my less fine moments, I flee Emmett Bush’s room without a backward glance. I snatch my purse from the hook and slip out the door. Clutching the fresh cotton to mychest, I weave through the ship’s halls, breathing in his soap the entire way back to my room.
When I push through the door, I find my mom, Loretta, packing her suitcase. The utter relief on her face when she sees me is a bullet to the chest. I’ve been sneaking in late all week, but the all-nighter is new. Being the type of mom that she is, she doesn’t scold me.
She’s never been that way—especially in adulthood. She’s always supported Theo and me in everything we’ve ever done. She’s always been the type of mom who’s encouraged us to spread our wingsandto make mistakes. To learn and grow and change and stand on our own two feet while always knowing that she’ll be there for us when we need her.
But where Theo has always seemed to share details about his escapades in dating with reckless abandon, I have a more reserved approach. One where my private life stays private.
His book is open. Mine is closed.
Which is why when she grins and says, “Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in,” all I do is offer her a secretive smile and an eye roll before heading to the bathroom to pull myself together.
With the door locked behind me, I prop my palms on the counter and stare back at my reflection. Smudged makeup. Fucked-up hair. Bloodshot eyes.
To the outside observer, I might look like I had a fun and rowdy night. But the reality is I narrowly escaped what could have been the worst night of my life.
And it’s all thanks to Emmett fucking Bush.
CHAPTER 6
Julia
Present…
EMMETT’S GRANDPARENTS FEEDme freshly baked cookies and coffee while we go over the spaces on the farm that they’re willing to give me access to, and we discuss what my plans for those sets might be. The main farmhouse is off-limits, which I understand.
But it’s also a shame, because it’sstunning. Rustic and cozy all at once. It’s surrounded by lush gardens and a patio made of mismatched rock stepping stones. Grass and tiny flowers grow up between them, which only adds to the quirky charm of theplace. Warm brown cedar shakes make up the siding on the house, and the window trims are painted royal blue—a perfect match for the tin roof.
Inside is equally delightful. Even though Emmett wears a permanent scowl across the table from me.
I ignore him.
Which is easy to do because I’m very busy admiring my surroundings. The eclectic sunken kitchen is all glass. Bright, sunny, and looks out over the most incredible garden. No matter which corner my gaze wanders to, there is something interesting waiting to be appreciated. Framed drawings by Emmett and his siblings. Trophies and ribbons from their varied competitive sports. A china cabinet filled with assorted dishes.
My eyes trail over the top shelf that’s cluttered with photos, skipping from mismatched frame to mismatched frame. Each one is filled with happy family moments that span decades. A pang twists in my chest. Not because I didn’t have a happy childhood. But it was quiet compared to this… this cheerful chaos.
I pause on a photo of a younger couple that I don’t recognize. It’s a perfect summer day, and an impressive waterfall cascades down over a cliff of jagged rocks beside them. They’re squished in tight next to a mischievous-looking little blond boy—hair nearly white—with a deep summer tan and dirt on his knees from playing outdoors. He’s grinning from ear to ear, and I recognize the expression. Emmett still has that grin, though it doesn’t seem to come as naturally as in this photo.
Next to it is a grainy wedding photo of a much younger Tina and Leon. They look blissfully happy. Madly in love. It’s plain as day. It’s lovely.
They are lovely even now. So lovely, in fact, that it’s easy to forget I’m in enemy territory here. The way they speak about Emmett is so different from how I’ve heard him spoken aboutby literally anyone else. And the way Tina is always rubbing his shoulder or squeezing his hand like she just can’t help herself is utterly endearing.
He never rolls his eyes or shakes her off the way I might have expected. Instead, he’ll tilt his head and shoot her an affectionate glance. His reaction is a fascinating blend between reveling in her unconcealed affection but also being slightly embarrassed by it.
“I’m just hoping he finds someone worthy of him,” Tina says firmly. I glance at Emmett and nearly snort. “We raised him since he was ten, you know?” she adds, more of a statement than a question.
A clarification that brings me up short.
Ten?
A lump lodges in my throat as I stare back at Emmett. Blue eyes—the same ones from the little boy in the photo—bore into mine with a level of intensity that almost makes me squirm. The look he’s giving me is one of challenge. I don’t think he wanted me to learn that about him.
And it makes me realize how little I know about him outside of what I’ve been told. And most of what I’ve been told is secondhand, fed to me through the lens of people who dislike him. Or from the media, who—as I’m learning with this job—are not always as honest as one might assume.
I can’t wrap my head around all the versions of Emmett. Cruise-ship Emmett, who was borderline heroic, is also asshole Emmett, who antagonizes my brother every chance he gets. And there’s also the Emmett sitting across from me right now who loves and is clearly loved back by these sweet people. It’s just… puzzling.
“No,” I reply with a soft smile. “I didn’t.”
“My special, wonderful boy,” she says, pulling his head close and dropping a loud smack of a kiss on his curls. She laughs as Emmett and Leon groan over her sappiness.
