He nodded.
“Bathroom? I need to wash this mess.” She pointed at her face, then looked down at her shirt. “Great.” Drops of mascara covered the silky front of her pajamas.
“I’ve got something you can wear. Hold up.” From his room, he grabbed a T-shirt and some athletic pants with a tie waist and brought them back.
“Is it okay if I take a shower? I feel like shit.” She shrugged. “Is that okay?”
“The guest bathroom’s down here. Doesn’t get used much.” He led the way. “The handle sticks, so be careful or you’ll end up burning yourself.” He leaned into the shower. “Just jiggle it like this.”
She peeked around him. “Got it.” She sighed. “Brock, thank you. This is my fault, all of it. I’m not mad at Mark; I’m mad at myself. You told me to tell him, but I was too scared he’d think I was a gold digger. Keeping it a secret only made it look like I am.”
Brock shrugged. “Maybe he’ll cool down long enough for you to talk. To really talk—about everything.”
“You are honestly the most decent man I think I’ve ever met.” She hugged him again.
He gave her a quick pat on the back and pulled the door shut behind him. Luckily, he remembered how Vanessa loved home remodeling shows and there was a whole channel devoted to that sort of thing. Once he’d found it, he headed into the kitchen to make some popcorn.
“That is the cutest picture I have ever seen.” Vanessa was smiling at a picture of Emmy and Watson.
He’d printed a couple, stuck one on the refrigerator, and framed another for his bedside table. Whenever he looked at them, he smiled.
“How is that going?” Vanessa asked, sliding onto the kitchen counter. With her face scrubbed clean and her hair twisted into a messy knot on the back of her head, she looked too young and innocent to have injection scars between her toes.
“It’s going.” He smiled.
“Another good thing about you—you don’t kiss and tell.” She nodded, glancing around the kitchen. “I appreciate you keeping my secrets. All of them. Tonight included.”
While Brock watched game film on his laptop, Vanessa argued with the people on the home renovation shows. She fell asleep after two hours of television. Three hours in, Janine called to say they were running behind.
He didn’t hear from Emmy. He thought about calling her. But he wasn’t sure what sort of explanation he could offer up, and since lying wasn’t an option, he didn’t call.
He’d only spent two nights with her, but he missed not having her beside him. It was too early to start thinking long-term, he knew that, but there were times it felt like they were picking up right where they left off. He’d be okay with that. More than okay.
At five in the morning, Janine showed up.
Brock walked Vanessa out. “You’ve got this, V.”
Vanessa gave him a hard hug. “I’m going to be okay.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you—for everything.”
As they pulled away, Brock ran a hand over his face. He was damn lucky. Vanessa’s support network consisted of her sponsor and her ex-husband. She kept her addiction a secret because she was too afraid of what people would think. Dealing with recovery was hard enough. Keeping it a secret while trying to live a normal life? Seemed like it would only add to her burden.
When he got to the stadium, he cleared his head. He’d learned early on that focus was a game changer. Focus—even when his teammates covered the locker room with enlarged posters of his brand-new Alpha underwear ads. Ads enlarged and decorated with permanent markers.
“Who knew you guys could be so creative?” He pulled a poster off the front of his locker. This one had a crudely sketched smiling snake poking above the waistband of the underwear. “At least it’s a friendly snake.”
“I’m not sure I’m going to be able to drive in every morning when there’s a sixty-foot picture of your ass on the side of the road.” RJ shook his head. “Nice or not, that is one big ass.”
McCoy came in and started yanking down posters. He glared at Brock and called them all onto the field to practice. Brock ignored Ricky’s shit-talking, drilled until Russell was happy, and gave one hundred and ten percent until Coach McCoy blew the final whistle.
Coach McCoy told them all to shut up and listen. “Get your gear on the bus. We’re leaving in an hour. You miss the bus, your ass is on the bench.”
Tonight, they were heading out for this weekend’s away game. Emmy would be in New York and he’d be in Oklahoma. It wouldn’t be so bad if they’d had their date. Hell, if he’d seen her once in the last week. This was bullshit. Somehow, they needed to make more time for each other. Somehow. Next season would be worse. He’d be back in Houston and she’d be here.
He didn’t want to think about next season yet.
The easiest thing to do was go public with their relationship. Knock off the Bremmy teasing and pull out the big guns. Dates and hand-holding and removing any doubt they were together. He didn’t relish the idea of being hounded by photographers and reporters. But if it meant he could be with her, whenever and wherever he wanted, he’d deal with the publicity.
He showered, dressed, and ran from the dressing room with his duffel bag in hand. McCoy made a point of checking his watch as he walked around the end of the bus to the passenger door.
Emmy Lou was there—animatedly using her hands as she talked to Russell.
Her hair was up in a ponytail, blowing in the light fall breeze. Looking at her now, wearing her pink plaid top, jeans, and worn-in leather boots—the sense of déjà vu was overwhelming. In high school, Emmy Lou had always come to see him off for away games. Always. Now, here she was. Like it was no big deal. Even though it was. Damn, he was smiling like a damn fool.
As soon as she saw him, her green eyes locked with his. But beneath the smile, he felt her hesitation. Wariness even. If only he could know what she was thinking.
“Hey.” He wanted to touch her and hold her so damn bad.
“Hi yourself.” She shoved her hands into her pockets, her gaze never wavering. Like she was looking for something. “I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
His gaze darted to his coaches, openly watching. “I’m sorry about last night. Something came up.”
“But everything is okay?” she asked, a tightness to her voice.
“Not really.” He didn’t want to keep secrets from her—she had enough of those in her life. But this wasn’t his secret and, dammit, he was in no position to tell Vanessa’s story. “I had big plans for us last night. There’s never enough time with you.”
“If something’s important, you make time.” She swallowed. “Right?”
He nodded. “Like making time to see me off?”
“How do you know I’m not here for something else?”
“I don’t.” He shook his head. “But I guess I’m hoping that’s why you’re here.” Something was wrong; he could see it on her face. He spied Coach from the corner of his eye—arms crossed, impatiently shifting from one foot to the other. Worse, every single player on the team was probably watching from the bus. They can wait. “What’s wrong, Em?” Another step. Too close? Hell. Not close enough. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.” Just don’t break my heart.
“I needed to see your face.” But she didn’t sound happy about it.
McCoy made a huge production out of clearing his throat.
“I don’t like leaving this way…” He cleared his throat. “When I get back, we need to talk.”
Her eyes widened. “Okay.” But it sounded like a question. “Be safe. Win.” She turned and headed toward the waiting black Suburban—leaving an ache in the middle of his chest.
“You good?” McCoy asked. “Damn shame we are all here getting in the way of your personal life.”
He climbed up the steps onto the chartered bus. An explosion of pa
per balls launched at him by pretty much the entire team.
“That was sad, man.” RJ leaned back against the seat, closing his eyes. “Sad.”
“I’m with RJ. Talk about a missed opportunity.” Gene Byrd shot him a look of pure disappointment.
Brock sat next to a window, scanning the parking lot. Emmy was gone, but the ache in his chest wasn’t going anywhere.
Chapter 18
Emmy held the mic closer, clapping out the rhythm against her thigh, as Travis plucked out the final lead-in notes.
Krystal leaned in, and they sang the last few lines together.
But here’s the truth, listen closely, cuz there ain’t no way.
I’m looking for Mr. Forever, not you—Mr. For Today.
The last effect, four cannons full of metallic confetti, exploded with the final drumbeat. As confetti rained down on the audience, the crowd went crazy.
“Thank you and good night, Pennsylvania,” Krystal called out. “Be safe going home.”
Emmy and her siblings took another bow before waving Jace onstage to join them. The show had been high energy—nothing like a vocal crowd to make them want to give their best performance.
Jace tipped his black hat, the women screamed, and they all bowed again.
“That was incredible.” Melanie offered Emmy her water bottle and towel, following along. “More than usual, that is.”
Emmy patted her face, still on a high. “I think they enjoyed it.”
“They?” Travis shook his head. “The screaming fans? Yeah, I think they might have had an okay time.” He draped his arm over her shoulders.
“Gross, you’re all sweaty.” Krystal dodged when Travis tried to wrap the other arm around her.
“His sweat is better than mine?” he asked, pointing out the way Jace was draped all over Krystal.
“Yes. Way better.” Krystal smiled up at Jace.
“How’s the meet-and-greet look?” Emmy asked.
“Sold out.” Melanie nodded. “There’s quite a crowd waiting outside, too.”
“Does that make you all warm and fuzzy inside?” Travis asked, hugging her tighter.
She stuck her tongue out at him. “They’re here for you, too, you know.” She slid out from under his arm. “I’ll see you in five?”
They nodded and all headed to freshen up prior to rubbing elbows and taking pictures with the big spenders. She pushed open her dressing room door and smiled.
“Smoothie?” Melanie asked. “And I kicked the AC down, too.”
“Perfect, Melanie. Thank y—”
“Emmy Lou?” Sawyer stuck his head in. “Do you have a minute?”
She stopped sipping on her smoothie and waved him inside. “Of course.”
He nodded, stepping inside the room. “I thought I’d let you know that Brock is here.”
“He is? That’s a complete surprise.” A good surprise, wasn’t it? Maybe? “Where is he?”
Sawyer wasn’t smiling. “I had him wait.”
Her gaze met his in the mirror about the same time Krystal and Jace came into her dressing room.
“Emmy.” Krystal paused, glancing at Jace. “I don’t want to do this. I hate him. Hate him.” Krystal blinked, studying her. “Have you checked your phone?”
“I just sat down.” Emmy frowned, looking around. “I don’t have my phone.”
“I have it.” Melanie held it out. “I thought… I’m sorry. I figured you’d need support.”
Emmy took the phone but put it facedown in her lap. “Okay. You’re all here. Go for it.”
“Entertainment This Week has breaking news.” Jace used air quotes.
“Mark Hammond. The rich tech company guy?” Krystal paused. “The one engaged to Vanessa Trentham? Brock’s ex-wife. Well, the engagement was called off.”
Emmy sat her phone on the counter, instantly nauseous. “Oh.” There was more—there had to be. If there wasn’t, Krystal wouldn’t be so upset. But she was, so there was. She had to force out the word: “And?”
Krystal sucked in a shaky breath. “What Momma said, about the money? It’s true. It looks like Brock and Vanessa put a down payment on a little bungalow outside of Georgetown a few weeks ago.”
“Okay.” Keep breathing. He’d said he wanted to talk to her; now she knew why. “That’s why he’s here?” To tell her before she saw the news?
“He’s here?” Krystal turned dark red. “What can I do? Tell me, because right now, I just want to hurt him. It’s not just that he’s hurt you, again, but he proved Momma right.”
Emmy Lou’s laugh stuck in her throat. About the money. “I was the one who wanted to keep our relationship a secret, not him. Because of Momma—I didn’t want her to ruin things.”
“I bet he didn’t argue with you, did he?” Krystal shook her head.
“Sorry, sorry I’m late.” Travis came in, breathless. “Just got the 911 text.” He leaned against the wall, frowning. “What’s the plan? Sawyer and I can beat the shit out of him?”
Emmy held up her hands. “I can’t be mad at him, can I? I mean, we never said anything about not dating other people or…or… I can’t be mad at him.”
“You can too.” Krystal pushed up from the table. “The down payment was made before San Francisco, Em.”
San Francisco. When he’d acted like he cared and held her close and she’d believed him enough to bare her soul. That hurt.
“We figured you should know before someone asks you about it at tonight’s meet-and-greet.” Travis sighed. “Better prepared than blindsided, am I right?”
“I am mad,” she murmured, carrying her glass to the kitchen counter. She had to move, had to do something. “I’m also confused.” He’d said “us,” hadn’t he? Acted like there was the possibility of them becoming an “us.” But he’d been making long-term plans with Vanessa… She wasn’t sure what was worse: that the person he was willing to commit to wasn’t her or that he was willing to sleep with her when he was making a commitment to someone else. Buying a house was a commitment.
They were all staring at her, waiting.
Thoughts and questions rushed in on her. What was the point? “I know you’re always going on about sex, Travis, and now that I’ve actually had it, I kind of see where you’re coming from. But, for me, it was because it was Brock.” She tugged her robe together. “It mattered because I love him. I’ve always loved him.” Her throat closed off. “I thought… Well, it doesn’t matter what I thought. I was wrong. What is wrong with me?”
“Nothing, Emmy Lou.” Jace shook his head.
“What is wrong with him?” There was no hiding Krystal’s disgust.
“I’m really trying to be supportive here, I am.” Travis ran both hands over his face. “But did I hear you right, Em? You never slept with anyone before?”
“I swear, Travis, now is not the time.” Krystal looked ready to jump down Travis’s throat. “Can you try to be remotely sensitive to your sister?”
“I am. I don’t think I’ve ever felt like such a bastard. I gave you all sorts of shit about this. Sex is…well, it’s sex. To me. I didn’t realize how important it was to you.” He managed to look her in the eye. “And, Em, I have to admit, I have a whole hell of a lot of respect for you right now.”
Emmy Lou turned. “Why? I did it anyway. I caved. And jumped him.”
“I’m not prepared to hear you say those words ever.” Travis closed his eyes and shook his head. “I am, however, fully prepared to go remove his nuts.”
Emmy was so startled, she laughed.
Travis crossed the room and tugged her in for a hug. “He’s a fucker. A big mountain of shit. An asshole who doesn’t deserve you. He’s a—”
“I get it.” She buried her face against her brother’s shirtfront.
“I’m not saying I’ll do it. But Sawyer will,” Trav
is murmured against the top of her head. “Am I right, Sawyer?”
“Yeah.” It was one word—but it was enough.
“Thank you, Sawyer.” She turned her head to see Sawyer. He stood, tense, fully prepared to come to her defense. And she loved him for it.
“Just so you know, Momma made a sound I have never heard before.” Travis sighed, his arms easing. “She took one look at that article, saw those pictures, and screamed—basically. Sort of. It was like a scream-groan-cussword thing. Daddy about dropped his cup of coffee.”
“Pictures?” Emmy Lou looked up at her brother. “What pictures?”
“Really?” Travis glared at Krystal. “You could have warned me. ‘Hey, Travis, we haven’t mentioned the pictures yet. So, you know, hold off on that for a sec.’”
“We were getting there.” Krystal wrinkled up her nose. “They’re all over.”
Emmy Lou picked up her phone and scrolled through Twitter, then Instagram.
Pictures of Vanessa and Brock arriving at a house. Pictures of them embracing in a window. Pictures of Vanessa leaving the next morning in what were clearly Brock’s clothes. And the parting embrace. But what gutted her most was Brock, standing in his driveway, watching Vanessa drive away. That hurt so much she had to force herself to breathe.
Slow. Deep. Breaths. She wasn’t going to fall apart. Not this time. She wasn’t going to worry the people who did love her.
“Here.” Krystal gave her a glass of water.
Emmy sipped, scanning the details. “I feel so bad for Mark Hammond.” She shook her head. “I mean, I wasn’t engaged to Brock.” No promises had been exchanged.
She didn’t want to look at or read anything else, but she couldn’t stop. That’s when she noticed the date. The pictures were taken the night he’d canceled on her.
I wouldn’t cancel on you if it wasn’t important. Vanessa was important. It would have been kinder just to tell her he wasn’t coming, he didn’t want to see her anymore, and end it. Why hadn’t he? Why had he acted like he was happy to see her at the stadium?
“You said Momma reacted when she saw the pictures?” Krystal asked. “Reacted or overreacted?”
Song for a Cowboy Page 25