Emmy Lou understood what she was asking. “Does it matter who took them? It wouldn’t change what they’re of.” That was the part that hurt. He’d done this. He’d hurt her. And Momma had tried to warn her about it. Had she handled things well? No. But she’d had the best of intentions, hadn’t she?
Or had she?
Her head was reeling enough without adding her momma to the mix.
One thing at a time.
The silence extended until she thought she’d scream. They were all trying to help; she knew that. The truth was there was nothing any of them could do. She’d opened herself up for this. If there was anyone to blame, all she had to do was look in the mirror.
She’d had no idea he was involved with Vanessa. When Vanessa had shown up at the hospital, maybe she should have picked up on something. But he’d been holding her and kissing her…
Why? Why string her along when he had someone else he was planning a future with?
“You don’t have to do any more events with him, do you?” Jace asked.
“I can’t back out of Good Morning USA.” She sighed. “After that, you’re right.” She pushed out of her director’s chair. “I’m fine. I’m good. You go on to the meet-and-greet and I’ll follow.” She swallowed. “Melanie, can you bring Brock to me, please? I need to do this. And I need you all to let me.” She deserved closure. Tonight, she’d get it.
* * *
No matter how many times he saw the Three Kings perform, he was impressed. They’d had years of practice and working together, so it made sense that there was an inherent shift and anticipation among them when they performed. Kind of like him on the field, with his team. He knew the sort of discipline that took. For all Travis’s smart-ass comments, his performance showed how invested he was in the group.
Now the wide concrete halls were crowded with fans, the red-roped path leading toward the meet-and-greet space.
His phone vibrated. Connie. He’d call her back.
Tonight, no excuses, he and Emmy Lou were going to have an honest conversation, and he was nervous as hell. It would help if he felt a little more confident about the outcome. But there were risks in life worth taking. She was the one that meant the most.
“Brock?” Emmy’s wide-eyed assistant tapped his elbow. “She’s in her dressing room. I can take you to her.”
“That’d be great, thanks.” He followed her from the room, wincing from the volume of the fans lining the hallway waiting for a chance to see one of the Three Kings.
“Is it always like this?” he asked.
“Always.” Melanie nodded. They turned two more corners before Melanie said, “Here we are.”
Considering Sawyer was leaning against the opposite wall, not even bothering to hide his hostility, he figured this was the place. “Thanks.” He nodded, then opened the dressing room door with his heart in his throat and his lungs all but empty.
It was odd that Melanie propped the door open, but he didn’t care. As soon as he saw Emmy’s face, his pulse faltered.
“Emmy?” He immediately reached for her. “Are you okay?”
She sidestepped his touch, and from the corner of his eye, he saw Sawyer take a couple of steps closer. But she held up her hand—shook her head. And Sawyer went back into statue mode.
An ice-cold current flooded his veins. He froze, his hands falling to his sides. “Just tell me everyone is okay?”
For a split second, her green eyes collided with his. “Eventually.” Her gaze fell. “I need to say a few things. I only have a few minutes, so I’ll be quick.” She cleared her throat. “I’d appreciate it if you’d let me talk without interrupting. Okay?”
He nodded; everything about this was setting off warning bells. What the fuck is going on?
“My momma has a lot of flaws. There is no way to deny that. She manipulates people, lies to get her way, and generally messes with people until they don’t know which way is up. I know this. It’s how I grew up. To be honest, I didn’t realize that her tactics were abnormal until this whole thing with Krystal blew up. I’ve lived my whole life as a puppet, not realizing it, of course. But…” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Em—”
“Brock.” Again, her eyes shifted to him—then at the concrete at her feet. “We have never talked about the future.”
“I want to.” He swallowed, stepping closer. Her immediate step back made him stop. “We need to.”
“Not really.” There was a sad smile on her face. “Basically, I wanted to thank you. I’ve always sort of given everyone the benefit of the doubt. I wanted to believe in the good, even when there was no reason. I honestly believed there was some way you and I could make this work. But between you and my mother, I’ve finally realized that I need to wake up.” She shook her head. “I can count all the people I truly trust on one hand. And you are not one of them.” Her breath hitched.
He couldn’t breathe—couldn’t think.
“I don’t know what happened six years ago. You could have told me the truth. It might have been unpleasant, but it would have been over without leaving me to wonder what I did to make you leave. It would have been the decent thing to do. I hope, at least, you burned my letters. If you haven’t, please do?” She shook her head. “I loved you too much.” Her voice was wavering now. “I guess I always will.”
She was talking too fast for him to keep up. One thing was clear, though: she was saying goodbye—and he had to stop her. “Emmy, wait please—”
“No.” She shook her head. “I’ve spent too much time waiting on you. I didn’t even realize I was until I saw you in the parking lot. But I’m not going to love you anymore.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “What I don’t understand is why you couldn’t be straight with me this time. Better yet, just leave me alone. Why? What possible reason could you have for intentionally lying to me again?” Her voice was stronger—angrier. “I’m not going to let anyone else use me, Brock. Not you or my mother. And I’m definitely not going to settle for being someone’s second choice…or their backup option.” Her gaze met his, flashing with pure fire.
“I wanted to talk to you about all of this.” He ran a hand along the back of his neck, searching for the right words. “You should have heard this from me—”
“Yes. I should have.” She stared at his chest. “Not from my brothers and sister. Not from the television or the internet.”
“What?”
She did look at him then. “You and Vanessa? The pictures.” Her gaze traveled over his face. “It doesn’t matter. I’m done. We, whatever this was, is done.”
He didn’t know what she was talking about. Vanessa? What pictures? Emmy was all that mattered. It took everything he had to stay calm. “Will you let me say something?”
She shook her head. “The thing is, when it comes to you, I can’t trust myself. I listen to my heart when my head is warning me to walk away.” She kept shaking her head. “I’m walking away. Now.”
Panic kicked in and he grabbed her hand as she brushed past him. “Emmy, I didn’t want you to find out this way.” He groaned, beyond frustrated. “There are things I can’t tell you.”
She nodded. “That’s fine. I don’t want to hear them anyway.” She tugged her hand away and walked, quickly, from the dressing room.
He started to go after her, but Sawyer was blocking his path.
“Leave her alone, man.” It was an order—a threat.
“You don’t want to do this with me.” It wasn’t a threat. It was a statement. Sawyer thought he was a badass—he probably was. But now wasn’t the time to issue a challenge.
“You’re right. I don’t.” Sawyer frowned. “I don’t want to hurt her by hurting you. I think she’s suffered enough. You have no idea.”
It was enough to stop him.
Sawyer turned and followed Emmy Lou
down the hall—out of sight. But the roar of the crowd, the screams of “Emmy Lou” and “I love you,” told him she was going on with the show. While he stood there, reeling.
He had to do something. He had to make this right. She was hurting—but she didn’t know the truth. If she knew, she’d understand. If he could talk to her, he could explain… What? What could he say?
Not a fucking word.
As much as he loved Emmy Lou, his word meant something to him. When he’d damn near lost everything, his word was all he’d had left. And he’d given his word to Vanessa that her secrets were safe with him.
He was vaguely aware of his phone vibrating, vaguely aware of answering it.
“Brock.” Connie. “What is happening? Why didn’t you call me? I need to know what’s going on and I need to know now. We are talking major damage control here.”
Brock ran a hand along the back of his neck. “I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Well, you better tell me something.” She sighed. “Anything. Some rational explanation that assures me, Alpha, and the Roughnecks that you are not and will not get involved with the woman who almost destroyed you.”
“V didn’t do that.” He sighed, walking quickly from the dressing room toward the exits. “I did it. I’ve never blamed her for the mistakes I made.” It didn’t seem to matter how far away he got; he could still hear the fans screaming Emmy’s name. He needed air. Peace and quiet.
“Brock, this is serious.” Her voice was strung tight. “Serious serious.”
“I get that.” He sighed. Considering what had just happened… “What do I need to do?”
“We need a statement. A good one. And soon.” Another sigh. “I’ll send you a few options shortly. I’ll need a quick response. Quick, understand?”
“Yeah.” He hung up, his brain working through everything Emmy had said. And she’d said so damn much.
What letters? He’d never received one from her. Not one. He was the one who wrote one after the other, full of pleas for an explanation—a chance to talk through whatever had happened to change her mind and cut him out of her life. The only letters he’d received were the ones he’d sent to her. Every envelope unopened with “Return to Sender” stamped in big, red letters.
His phone was ringing again. This time it was Coach McCoy.
“Shit.” He climbed into his rental car, started the ignition, and answered the phone. “Yes, sir?”
“I’m guessing you know why I’m calling?”
“I’m beginning to figure it out.” He sighed. “Haven’t seen the details myself, though.”
“I’m not sure what that means, Brock?”
“Nothing.” He groaned.
“You need to listen to me, you hear? You’re one of our best players and I don’t want to lose you, so I’m telling it like it is.” McCoy cleared his throat. “The owner called. Ed was highly concerned about this.”
“Understood.” Brock nodded.
“Every player is an investment. The more time and energy invested, the more we expect of a player. I’d like to think you know and appreciate the level of investment this team has shown you—no matter what. Up until a point. And, Brock, you’re about to get to that point.”
“Yes, sir.” He shook his head. “This is my team. My family. My life. I don’t know what’s floating around out there, but I’m guessing it paints a not-so-pretty picture.” He stared out the front windshield. “I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize my career.”
There was a long pause. “That’s good to hear. Because that little shit Ricky Ames is standing by hoping you’ll screw up. And if I have to play him, my next heart attack will be on you.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m counting on you. Counting on your word. You hear me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Get some rest,” McCoy said. “Practice. Tomorrow. Early. Chances are, it won’t be pretty.”
He took a deep breath and opened the internet browser on his phone.
“Fuck.” The pictures weren’t pretty. Vanessa’s breakup didn’t help. Neither did the recount of their short-lived marriage and messy divorce.
But the thing that tore him up inside was Emmy Lou’s reaction. She’d seen these, believed it, and chosen to walk away. What else could she do? If he’d been in her shoes, he’d have done the same thing. But the rest of it? There were so many holes now he had to decide if he was going to try to set her straight or if, like her, he was going to walk away.
But like his dad always told him, he wasn’t the quitting type.
Chapter 19
Daddy hugged Emmy close, the gentle sway of the bus driving down the interstate almost rocking her against her father’s chest. “I’m so sorry, baby girl. For all of this.”
“It’s not your fault, Daddy.” There was nothing as comforting as one of her daddy’s hugs.
“I can’t believe that anymore. Not with the way things keep shaking out.” He let her go. “If that were the case, then none of this would have happened. None of it.” He faced Krystal then. “I hope you know, I won’t let you down again. Any of you.” He didn’t shy away from the hard look on Travis’s face. “I give you my word.”
“Where is Momma?” Travis asked.
Emmy curled up on the leather couch, Watson jumping up to wedge himself in the bend of her knees. “I didn’t see her tonight.”
“She’s taking some time. After the last few days…” He shook his head, his voice low and gruff. “It’s what’s best for now.”
Emmy Lou glanced at her siblings, their shocked expressions mirroring her own.
Emmy Lou captured his hand in hers. “It’ll be okay, Daddy.”
“There’s no point pretending things that aren’t true.” He sat forward. “Seems to me, we’ve been doing an awful lot of that. Some I didn’t even know about.”
“Fuck.” Travis’s one word said oh so much.
“Pretty much.” Daddy nodded. “I brought something.” On the table were two large pizza boxes, a shoebox tied with red string, and…
“Is that Momma’s book?” Emmy asked.
“Pass?” Travis said, standing up to grab the box of pizza. “On the book. Pretty sure I lived it. But I’ll never say no to pizza. Sawyer?”
Sawyer shook his head and stayed in his usual spot, close enough to listen but far enough apart to go unnoticed.
Krystal leaned into Jace, resting her head on his shoulder. “I doubt she’d want us to read that, Daddy.”
“You think I’d offer it behind her back?” Daddy took a deep breath, beyond hurt. “We talked about this. Your momma’s life wasn’t easy. I know you only know your grandpa as a man with a joke to tell and a big laugh. Truth was, he and your momma never got on. I didn’t help with that.” He shook his head and leaned back against the couch. “All I’m trying to say is, her life hasn’t been as easy as it appears. Not that it’s an excuse, mind you.”
“We all love her, Daddy,” Emmy Lou said.
“Even if it’s not always easy,” Travis replied.
Krystal sat silent—not because she didn’t love their mother, but because she didn’t want to.
“Are we burning the book or what?” Travis asked.
“I’m going to leave it here.” Daddy stared at the box. “In case you want to read it. A lot of things I wish I’d known. And some truths that need to be told and made right.” He leaned forward, picked up the shoebox, and gave it to Emmy Lou. “These are yours.”
Emmy took the box, sat it beside her on the couch, and opened it. “But…” Just when she thought she’d gotten a handle on her feelings, she had her legs knocked out from under her. There, in the shoebox, were all the letters she’d written to Brock. “I don’t understand.” And she didn’t.
Krystal peered over her shoulder. “What is that?”
“I can�
��t see,” Travis pointed out.
Emmy Lou sat the box on the table. “Letters I wrote to Brock.” She shook her head. Letters he never got.
Travis frowned. “That takes the whole breach-of-privacy thing to a new level of what the hell, doesn’t it?”
Krystal sighed, resting her elbow on the table and propping her chin up. “I don’t understand, Daddy. How you can live with someone who could hurt her children?”
“I have no excuse for allowing things to go on like this. It might be hard to believe this now, but I hate seeing you hurt.” His gaze bounced among the three of them. “At the end of the day, all a man has is his word. My vow to her was my word.”
Emmy Lou’s attention wandered back to the box of letters. Brock had never received them… It should have been a relief, not a disappointment. But he’d never known that she’d kept up her end of the bargain. Like Daddy, she honored her word.
It didn’t change the fact that he’d never reached out to her.
And none of this had anything to do with him and Vanessa.
“She did leave a note for me to read to you all.” Daddy pulled out a folded-up piece of paper from his pocket.
“There’s something wrong with your making amends on her behalf.” Krystal stood up. “Why would I listen to her if she can’t be bothered to be here herself? Putting you in the middle of this is wrong,” Krystal said. She stood on her tiptoes, kissed her dad’s cheek, and headed down the hall to her room.
Daddy didn’t try to stop her. “We good?”
Emmy and Travis nodded.
“‘I know that you all have problems with me. I am sorry I’m not the mother you kids wanted or needed. I can tell you that everything I have done was an attempt to keep me from losing you. You all are, without a doubt, the most important things in my life. But by doing what I have done, I have lost you kids and your daddy. I promise, I will try to do better. I think, for now, it’s best for me to return to the rehabilitation center. I didn’t dedicate my whole mind to what they were trying to teach me. That much is clear now. When I’m done, I hope you all will find a place for me in your lives. I love you all so much in my own messed-up way. Momma.”
Song for a Cowboy Page 26
