Song for a Cowboy

by Sasha Summers

  There was a lengthy silence, each of them taking the time to work through Momma’s note. Travis ate three slices of pizza. Daddy stared into his cup of coffee. And Jace headed down the hall after Krystal.

  “So,” Travis said.

  Sawyer sat beside Travis then, reaching for a piece of pizza.

  “I’ve got a new song I want you to look over, Travis. Maybe tomorrow? After Emmy’s Good Morning USA spot?” Daddy asked, standing to refill his coffee cup.

  “You’re not all going, are you?” She wasn’t sure which was worse, facing Brock on her own or having her entire family scowling at him throughout their ten-minute interview.

  “Well, you know I’m all in favor of front-row drama.” Travis smiled. “Hell, I’ll make enough popcorn for the whole studio audience.”

  Emmy Lou laughed in spite of herself.

  “We’re going, baby girl.” Her daddy shook his head. “I’ll try to be on my best behavior, but I’ll be happy to let Brock Watson know that hurting you is not acceptable, if need be.” He stared around the table. “And that goes for all of you.”

  “Unless it’s Jace.” Travis shook his head. “I mean, we’d take Jace’s side over Krystal’s, right? I mean, we need to keep him around.”

  Emmy shook her head, but she was laughing.

  “Then why are you smiling?” Travis was laughing. “Because you know I’m right?”

  “I know it’s late,” Daddy said. “And I’m beat.”

  “Come on, Watson.” Emmy scooped up the kitten. “We’re turning in. You’ll be comfortable on the couches?”

  “Even your couches are more comfortable than the things called mattresses on my bus.” Travis used his pizza crust to point at Daddy. “You know I’m right, too.”

  Daddy chuckled. “Might be time to make some updates.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Travis glanced her way. “Night, Emmy.”

  Emmy carried Watson to her room, only to find Krystal sitting on the edge of her bed, Clementine in her lap. “Hi,” Emmy said.

  “Clementine was missing Watson.” Krystal sat Clementine on the ground. “And I figured you could catch me up on anything important I might have missed?”

  “Not really.” She sat beside her sister. “Momma checked herself back into rehab.”

  Krystal shot her a look of pure disbelief.

  “It could be true, Sis.” She sighed, wrapping her arm around Krystal. “I hope it is.”

  Krystal rested her head on her shoulder and hugged her close. “Emmy Lou? Do you think I’d be a good mother?”

  Emmy Lou sat back, staring at her sister. “What?”

  Krystal sat back on the bed, pulling one of Emmy’s pillows into her lap. “You heard me.”

  “Where did that question come from?” It’s not that Emmy Lou had never pictured Krystal as a mom; she’d expected all of them to have kids eventually. But until now, Krystal had never mentioned kids—or her mothering ability.

  Krystal shrugged, running her hands back and forth across the mermaid-scale pillow.

  Emmy caught her hand. “Seriously, Krystal, why are you asking me that? It’s sort of a really big question. Don’t you think?”

  “You were sitting at that table, weren’t you? If Momma is saying she’s a bad mother because of the way she was raised, maybe we shouldn’t have kids.” The flicker of doubt and fear on her face made Emmy hug her tight.

  “You will be the most amazing mother ever. I promise,” Emmy whispered, holding her close. “You’re not capable of giving anything less than your best. And when you love someone, you love them with your whole heart—just as they are.”

  Krystal didn’t let go. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.” She pressed a kiss to her cheek. “And I will be an amazing aunt. However, we will have to shield the baby from Uncle Travis. For obvious reasons.”

  “That is true.” Krystal laughed.

  Emmy Lou nodded. “That’s the only reason you asked? Because of Momma?”

  Krystal’s green gaze locked with hers. “Partly.”

  “And the other part?” Emmy Lou did her best not to squeeze her sister’s hand too hard. “Like…you are going to have a baby?” she whispered. “You, my beautiful twin sister, and her sweet beau, are going to have a gorgeous and beyond talented little angel baby?”

  Krystal smiled. “Maybe.”

  Emmy Lou was hugging her again. “Really? Really?” She was crying then. “When will you know?”

  “Next week. Doctor’s appointment.” Krystal started crying, too. “I guess I always thought you would go first.” She nodded. “I mean, I needed you to go first so I could call you for advice and cry on you and know that you’d have the answers because you always do.”

  “Looks like you get to do that for me.” Emmy hugged her sister again. “It’s about time we had something to celebrate, don’t you think? I’m so happy for you.” She’d hold on to that happiness for as long as she could.

  * * *

  Brock kept his gaze focused on the framed print of the Alamo on the set of Good Morning USA. His mic was on. The lights were beating down on him. And Emmy Lou had just taken her seat beside him, sitting as far away from him as she possibly could.

  He’d been picturing this all morning. Not reacting. Not looking at her. Not wishing she’d give him a chance to explain. Was it frustrating that she believe he was capable of doing this to her? Yes. But with such damning pictures, he understood. Even if she would talk to him, he could only say so much. And it wasn’t enough to make her understand.

  The host, Molly Harper, smoothed her red hair over her shoulder and smiled at them both. “It’s so good to see you, Emmy Lou. You look great. How’s the family?”

  “We’re good.” Emmy smiled. “How about you? I saw that piece you did on insurance scams. That was scary stuff.”

  “You’re telling me.” Molly nodded. “The terrible things people are capable of never fails to amaze me.”

  Brock might have imagined Emmy’s glance his way. But he was pretty sure he hadn’t.

  One of the camera crew pointed at Molly.

  “Okay, we’re counting down.” Molly smiled. “Ready? Five, four, three…” She turned toward the camera. “Good morning, USA. We are right here in Austin, Texas, to talk to country music darling Emmy Lou King and football heartthrob Brock Watson. That’s right, we have Bremmy in the house.”

  The studio audience clapped enthusiastically.

  Brock felt sweat running down the middle of his back.

  “It’s so nice to have you both here with us this morning.” Molly paused. “Can I just say, Emmy Lou, you are even more beautiful in person. Just wow.”

  “Molly, that’s very sweet of you.” Emmy Lou’s voice faltered, drawing Brock’s gaze. She was blushing. All pink cheeked and so damn pretty he couldn’t look away. “Thank you for having us,” Emmy Lou chirped, undeniably cheerful.

  He forced his gaze back to the Alamo print. “Good to be here, Molly.” He smiled. I can do this.

  “You two are here today to share the Drug Free Like Me program, is that correct?” Molly asked. “Brock, you’ve been working with the organization for some time. Can you share what you like best about working with the group?”

  If he focused on the charity, the answers were easy enough. He and Emmy Lou had done enough interviews to present an entertaining volley of answers. Emmy was having a hard time looking at him, but she was so damn charming, chances were he was the only one who noticed anything was off between them. Molly did ask about tomorrow’s home game and what he thought their chances were.

  “Are we going to win?” He smiled. “Yes. Of course. Without a doubt.”

  “Kind of hard to doubt you with that kind of confidence.” Molly laughed. “And, Emmy Lou, you’re singing at this halftime?”

  She nodded. “The Ameri
can Football League asked me to, yes. It’s to honor the passing of one of their legendary coaches. I’m proud to do it. And as everyone knows, I’m a Roughnecks fan.”

  Brock glanced her way—about the same time she looked at him.

  “I guess we will see how the game goes. Good luck out there, you two. Hopefully there won’t be any more kittens getting in the way.” Molly smiled. “But if there are, we know the two of you have things covered.”

  The audience laughed, severing the connection between Brock and Emmy Lou. His chest hurt, the pressure continuing to build as the cameras cut away and a stage tech removed his mic.

  If he didn’t move, he’d probably make an ass of himself right there.

  It didn’t help that Emmy Lou had them pose for a selfie. He did it, knowing full well it would be posted and tweeted all over. Hopefully it would draw attention to Drug Free Like Me—and distract from the whole Vanessa and Mark Hammond drama.

  Emmy Lou, and the King family, made a point of ignoring him. And since his hands were tied, there was no point sticking around. He stormed down the hall, pushed through the door, and headed for his truck. He was home within ten minutes. He shoved his next meal into the oven and turned on his stationary bike. Burning off steam was a necessity.

  He was sitting down to his meal when the doorbell rang.

  Sawyer stood there, arms crossed, his emotionless-as-fuck expression irritating the shit out of Brock.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Brock snapped. The front gate guy needed to start looking for a new job.

  “Can I come in?” Sawyer asked. “I really don’t want to do this on your front porch.”

  “Sure, why the hell not?” He stepped aside, rolling his neck. “I don’t know what this is about, but I can tell you now, for the first time in my life, I’d be okay throwing a few punches.”

  “Duly noted.” Sawyer nodded. “I know who took the pictures.”

  Brock stared at him. “What?”

  “CiCi King’s personal bodyguard was fired a few days ago. I feel confident it was over those pictures. I’m not sure if he wanted hush money or what, but it looks like he ended up selling copies to Entertainment Monthly.” Sawyer stared around him. “If CiCi King isn’t careful, he’ll sell a whole lot of information, regardless of the NDA we all have to sign.”

  Brock blew out a slow deep breath. “You’re telling me CiCi King sent her bodyguard here to watch me, then fired him over those fucking pictures?”

  Sawyer nodded.

  “He told you this?”

  “He was pretty upset over losing his job. I took him out for a few drinks, asked the right questions, learned what I needed to learn.” He stared at Brock. “I don’t think she’d ever planned on them going public. She probably was going to send them to you to warn you away or to Emmy Lou.”

  “For fuck’s sake.” He ran his hands through his hair. “What the hell does she have against me? No. Forget that. I don’t give a damn about CiCi King.” He sat, staring at the rug. “But Emmy Lou needs to get out of there. You’re supposed to protect her, right? Well, that place isn’t safe. I want her safe.”

  Sawyer nodded, his gaze narrowing. “I figured as much.”

  “Why are you here?” He sat back.

  Sawyer sat, eyeing the mountain of food on the table. “There are a few things I thought you’d want to know.”

  “More?” He shook his head. “I’m not sure I’m ready for this.”

  “Emmy never got your letters. She wasn’t the one who sent them back.” Sawyer was watching him closely. “And her mom kept Emmy’s letters so you never got hers.”

  “Motherfucker.” The words were a harsh whisper. It was amazing how quickly those old wounds began to heal.

  “When you came over, nobody else knew.” Sawyer’s jaw stiffened. “That was CiCi making sure she’d cut the last threads between the two of you.”

  “Which she did.” He stood, pacing. “How do you know all of this?”

  “It’s my job.” Sawyer shrugged, his eyes narrowing. “What does Vanessa have on you?”

  Brock spun to face him. “What?”

  “Why else wouldn’t you go after Emmy? Vanessa has something on you. Something bad.”

  Brock shook his head. “No.”

  “Then why are you letting this happen again?” Sawyer stood.

  “I’m all for employee loyalty, here. But why are you so invested in Emmy Lou’s happiness?” He paused. “I see how protective you are of her—but I’m getting that it’s not your standard security-guard protocol.”

  Sawyer’s face didn’t twitch. “I have my reasons.”

  “I have mine.” Brock sighed, so tired everything hurt. “Are we done here?”

  Sawyer pushed out of the chair. “I guess. I was expecting more. I don’t think you realize how long she’s loved you.”

  “Probably as long as I’ve loved her.” My whole damned life.

  “Then you’d be a damn fool not to fight for her. You sit here and say you want her protected—is that my job? Or yours?” Sawyer gave him a head-to-toe once-over. “Good luck tomorrow.”

  When Sawyer left, Brock felt more unsettled than ever.

  Emmy had been pissed when she’d admitted it, but she had admitted she’d never stopped loving him. She had written to him—like he’d written to her. She’d waited, hoping…questioning and doubting and wondering what had gone wrong.

  CiCi King had set the perfect trap. The story the pictures told was a lie, but the pictures were real. So was the suspicion and hurt they’d caused.

  It was a stark contrast to the memories he had of his time in the King household. He’d always felt welcome. Even with a wall covered in gold and platinum albums, they’d been good people. Hank King had always been supportive and focused.

  But thinking back, he realized CiCi had rarely been around. If she had, maybe he wouldn’t remember things so fondly.

  Sawyer’s parting dig had him more than a little riled up. Loving Emmy wasn’t a job or a burden; it was a gift. She was a gift. Knowing that the woman who’d brought Emmy into this world, the woman who should put her children above all else, could hurt her so? Yet CiCi had done just that. She’d twisted something good and pure to keep Emmy under her thumb and riddled with self-doubt.

  He wasn’t one for hating, but CiCi King stirred something powerfully close to it. Still, she was Emmy’s mother. Hating the woman wouldn’t do any of them any good.

  He packed up an overnight bag. Tonight, he’d stay at the hospital with his father. Tomorrow, after the game, he and Aunt Mo would move his dad back into Green Gardens Alzheimer’s clinic. Now that his father was on the right meds, there was a chance his mental clarity would last a little longer. With everything else going on in his life, Brock needed his family more than ever.

  With any luck, Aunt Mo or his father would have some pearls of wisdom to help him sort out how to win Emmy back.

  Chapter 20

  “Please, please, please give me tea.” Emmy Lou was wiping the sleep from her eyes. “What time is it?” Even Watson looked perturbed by Krystal and Jace’s sudden invasion.

  “It’s nine.” Krystal flopped onto the bed beside her. “Open your eyes. You’re going to want to see this.”

  “Tea, please?” She smothered a yawn.

  “Jace?” Krystal called out. “Can you make Emmy some—”

  Jace came in, a cup of tea in his hands. “I have no idea what I’m doing, so sorry if it’s bad.”

  “Thank you, Jace.” Ever since Krystal had shared her possible pregnancy, Emmy couldn’t help but see everything he did differently. If Krystal was pregnant, her sister was going to have the best father for her baby. And he’d take such good care of Krystal—he already did.

  “Scooch,” Krystal said, making room for Clementine on the bed.

  Emmy propped
herself up on the pillows, took the tea, and smiled as Watson curled back into a little ball on her stomach. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the tea in bed, but what’s the big development this morning?”

  Jace chuckled. “Well, now, funny you should put it that way.”

  Krystal turned on the television mounted on the wall of Emmy’s bedroom. “Jace.” Krystal patted the bed beside her.

  “Wouldn’t want to crowd the four of you.” He shook his head.

  “Jace, you know she’s not going to stop until you do what she says.” Emmy took a sip of her very strong tea.

  Jace sat beside Krystal, and Krystal pressed a button.

  “I appreciate you being here tonight,” Guy James was saying.

  “This was recorded last night,” Krystal whispered.

  Vanessa Trentham looked amazing. “I’m assuming there is a reason I’m being tortured this morning?” Long, dark hair. Long legs. Long eyelashes. “She’s so gorgeous,” Emmy Lou mumbled. With her puffy eyes and bedhead, the last thing she wanted to do was watch the woman she’d lost Brock to.

  “Give me the remote.” Jace took it and fast-forwarded. “Right here.”

  “You’re saying these were taken out of context?” Guy asked. “I’m not sure how you can take these photos—of you two hugging and you wearing his clothing—out of context.”

  “That’s because people see what they want to see, Guy.” Vanessa was shaking her head. “What you don’t see is the truth. And because Brock Watson is the sort of man who keeps his word, even when his character is being dragged through the mud, he wasn’t going to rat me out. But I can’t stand by and let him suffer because of me.” She drew in a deep breath. “I’ve always been too scared to say what I’m about to say out loud, but my problems are hurting good people, so…here we go.”

  “You’ve certainly piqued my interest.” Guy leaned forward.

  “I’m a drug addict. Recovering. I’ve used on and off since I was sixteen—maybe earlier. You have to keep stick thin to walk the runway. Cocaine and heroin were best for that. Sometimes it was a little; other times, a lot. Brock and I had this whirlwind courtship; it was a mess of a marriage from the get-go. His injury only added to my little pharmaceutical collection. We both spiraled out of control—”