"Did you know?" I ask him under my breath.
"Nope."
I growl. "How the hell'd they find out about her? I never told anyone."
"I suspect the same way they knew Elise would want a revenge fuck over things that happened ten years ago, and that Tiff would fly off the handle on camera in a jealous rage."
This nearly makes me laugh. Colton's drama with all the women he juggles keeps our ratings at the top of our time slot.
"But to be fair, Lee, you were never all that subtle about it," he adds. "Pretty sure even Dad knew."
"But you didn't tell them?" I ask.
"Hell no."
I look over at his face, seeing the truth in his expression.
"This gonna be okay?" he asks me quietly.
"Is it gonna be okay that I have to pull my pants down and let Emmy Lewis check out my thigh two inches from my cock every goddamn day for a week?"
"Probably more than once a day, too." He laughs, shaking his head and helping me get both crutches beneath my arms when we're on deck. "I don't fucking know, Levi. This whole thing is a goddamn rollercoaster."
We line up on deck, cameras rolling as we pretend to be going over what we need to do before we can push off.
Emmy climbs aboard--so fucking pretty, still. Her eyes are too wide, a little wild, and I wonder if she feels the same way I did the first time I was around so many people and their cameras and mics I'd been instructed to ignore.
"Hey, guys," she says.
We all say our greetings--with various degrees of enthusiasm (Colton) and wariness (Finn). I land somewhere in the middle, but inside I feel the tight hum of anxiety.
I can see it now, how the episode plays it, putting her name up on the screen--Emmy L.--and, below it, a little bit about her. Nurse at Mount St. Mary's Hospital, Victoria. Will they even need to add, And the girl who starred in a majority of Levi's teenage fantasies, or will the expression on my face suffice?
Because I know for sure it's written all over me. Her hair is longer than it was in school, pulled into a smooth ponytail that hangs midway down her back. Her brown eyes are round with jitters, her cheeks pink in the wind. Fuck, that mouth. I know that mouth better than my own, I'd bet. She's wearing more makeup than I've ever seen on her, but I suspect that's thanks to the producers, and not anything she'd do on her own. Emmy was never that girl.
She was always quiet, but unlike me--gangly and geeky from day one--Emmy's beauty made it easy for her to pick and choose how much she wanted to join in on the school's small social scene and not take any heat for it. I'd reckon every guy in school was in love with her. But other than Jackson McDaniel for most of junior year, I never saw her with anyone. Her dad was the principal of our high school; her mom ran a local flower shop in Bamfield. Her two older sisters moved away as soon as they gradua
ted, but something about Emmy told me she'd always stay nearby. I always guessed she liked the calm of Bamfield, the peace of Barkley Sound.
And I'd been right, because here she is.
"Hey," she says to me, coming over. The wind whips her ponytail across her face, and I nearly reach out to help her disentangle it from her lip gloss. I'm positive the camera catches the tiny jerk of my arm, the focus of my eyes on her mouth. She grimaces, pulling it free. "Ack."
"Hey, Emmy," I say, shaking her hand. My legs feel weak, but it's got nothing to do with the stitches running down my thigh.
She blinks, her cheeks flushing pinker. "You remembered my name."
"Course I do." Can the mic pick up the heavy pulse of my heartbeat? "So you're here to look after me, then?"
She smiles, revealing the tiny dimple in her left cheek. "Hope that's okay."
Is she fucking kidding me?
"Yeah, I think I can manage." Even if I can't manage to wipe the grin off my face.
Finn clears his throat. "Maybe you two should ..." He waves to the cabin, where the bunks are, letting his words trail off.
"What?" I ask.