Emmett drops to the bench opposite, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. Brody stands where my father left him, hands knotted into fists, gaze locked on the closed door. And while they were all so amazing…
I still can’t help but fucking break apart in pieces.
It’s not a scream, or even a sob—just a slow collapse, my shoulders caving in, my chest heaving, the soundless, ugly cry of a girl who just lost her father.
Brody crosses the room and kneels in front of me, his hands gentle as he brushes the hair from my face. I cling to him, nails digging into his arms, desperate for any anchor in the storm.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, over and over. “I’m so fucking sorry, Georgie. I wish I could change his mind, but I don’t think I can. I don’t think we’re going to. There’s no reasoning with him.”
It doesn’t make me feel any better, mostly just because it’s the cold, hard truth. So, I just cry more—like the big baby I am right now.
Miles sits still beside me, his hands covering mine, his warmth holding me together even as my world comes unglued. Emmett shifts around, his cheek pressed to my shoulder.
We stay like that while I continue to pour out my self-loathing in the ugliest sobs that I’ve ever cried. And the hardest part is notjustthat my dad disagrees with it.
It’s that deep down, I’mterrifiedthat he might be right, and I don’t know how to bring that up to the guys. I don’t want them to think that I don’t trust them.
But also… I don’tknowwhat happens next. What if my father is right, and this ends in disaster?
What if this is the biggest mistake I’ve ever made?
Chapter 24
Emmett
It’s been a day since the whole shitshow with Robert, and honestly, I can’t tell if we’re doing well or we’re on the brink of an implosion. Personally, I prefer to remain positive, but I can’t speak for the others.
As Miles appears at the stern, where I’m drinking my coffee, it’s clear he’s not feeling as upbeat.
I can tell he hasn’t slept, with dark circles under his eyes and his hair a mess. He’s clutching his phone with both hands, thumbing through emails most likely.
I prop my heels on the bench and lean back. “How ya getting along, Miles?”
Miles barely glances up. “I have six voicemails from my managing partner, Emmett. This is the last thing I needed right now.”
I frown, lifting my mug to take a sip. “Well, that doesn’t sound good.”
He grunts and swipes to answer a call. “Jameson,” he says, voice stern.
I take a moment check my phone, scanning the overnight onslaught of spam, social media updates, and oneurgentemail from my agent.
I frown as I read the subject line.
YOU’RE NEEDED IN ICELAND, ASAP.
I thumb it open and read through it quickly. They want me on the next flight to Reykjavik. Some streaming service with more money than sense wants a docuseries about traveling through the country.
And they want me to work on the project with them.
“You’re shitting me right now,” I say to the phone.
Miles glares, waves a hand, as if my mumble just interrupted his phone call.
I watch as he paces the length of the deck, talking fast and looking more and more irritated.
“I’m in Florida right now,” he grits out. “I can’t bein New York right now. You know that, and you should be able to—” He stops, obviously having been cut off. His face turns red. “I understand that you feel like you’re out of your wheelhouse.”
I sip my coffee, my eyes drifting to the pale blue skies, wishing that I could go back in time and erase yesterday. Ihatethe way Robert just stormed in and tore Georgia apart. She tried to be strong—and shewas—but it’s still deeply affecting her.
