Emmy Lou held the mic closer to Krystal, watching her sister’s fingers slide along the strings in time with Jace. With four shows under their belt, the two of them had turned the guitar solo into a guitar duel—and the fans loved it. As the roar of the crowd climbed higher, she and Travis exchanged a smile. Touring was exhausting, sure. And no matter how many hours of rehearsals and performances they put in, glitches happened. But as long as they kept the music going and their energy high, the fans were game for anything.
When Krystal and Jace paused, Travis said, “Finally,” and a ripple of laughter joined in the steady clapping. A smile passed among them as they started singing the chorus together.
Now, baby, when you kiss me, ooh-hoo.
Oh, I like the way you kiss me.
Once we start, don’t want to stop. Ooh-hoo-hoo.
And all I know is here we go. Ooh-hoo.
Back to the start, straight to my heart. Ooh-hoo-hoo.
No fighting this. No stopping fate.
Third time’s a charm. My heart can’t wait.
Even though this was their second encore of the night, the energy in the Coastal Shoals Civic Center hadn’t waned. Emmy, on the other hand, was wiped out. “Thank you, Raleigh, North Carolina,” Emmy Lou said, waving. “Y’all be safe going home tonight.”
The four of them took a bow and waved. But instead of leaving the stage with her siblings, Emmy Lou paused at a little girl who was waving a bright-pink guitar at her. She was sitting on her mother’s shoulders, smiling and hopeful. Emmy Lou made a beeline in their direction. As resistant as she’d been to her rhinestone-covered silver jumpsuit, it did take the fear out of crouching down on the edge of the stage.
“Hi, sweetie,” she said to the little girl. “What do you have there?”
The little girl was holding an inflatable pink guitar over her head. “It’s a guitar. Like Krystal’s.” She held it up, her smile revealing two missing front teeth. “It’s for you.”
Emmy Lou stared at the little girl, truly touched. “For me? Are you sure?”
The little girl’s mother nodded. “It was her idea. She wanted it because it was pink, and pink is your favorite color.”
Emmy Lou’s eyes were stinging. “I love surprise presents. And this one is extra special. What’s your name?”
“Valencia.” She smiled.
“Well, Valencia, I’d really love a picture with you, if that’s okay?” Emmy Lou asked Valencia’s mother.
Sawyer came out to help, lifting Valencia onto the stage with ease. He stood by, stony faced, until the pictures were done and carefully lowered her back to the concrete floor.
“Thank you.” Valencia’s mom smiled. “I know you hear this a lot but it’s real nice for young girls to have a role model like you. They’re hard to come by these days.”
“I appreciate that.” Emmy Lou waved goodbye. “And thank you, Valencia. It was nice meeting you.” But when she stood, the stage seemed to tilt, and her head was spinning so fast she wound up grabbing on to Sawyer’s arm.
“You good?” Sawyer asked, taking the inflatable guitar and leading her swiftly from the stage. “Em? You okay?”
It wasn’t the first time. “I just stood up too fast.” It wasn’t a big deal.
“You normally get dizzy from standing up too fast?” He wasn’t amused. “Come on.”
“Sometimes, yes. I’m a little dehydrated.” She patted his arm.
He paused outside the dressing room. “I’m probably overstepping here, but I know this isn’t dehydration.” He sighed. “When did you eat last?”
She was too wobbly to argue. At the moment, all she wanted was a chair and some water or juice. “Sawyer—”
“You spend all your time worrying about looking and acting perfect, keeping the peace, and being a good role model. What do you do for yourself?”
It was hard to make eye contact with him. “Sawyer, you’re worrying over nothing.”
“That’s bullshit.” He was scowling now, dropping the inflatable guitar and gently grasping her upper arms. “You’re making yourself sick for the approval of a woman you’ll never make happy.”
All she could do was stare now. “Momma’s never—”
“I shouldn’t have said that.” His jaw muscle tightened. “You are harming yourself, Emmy Lou. I can’t stand by and do nothing. I won’t.” There was surprising tenderness in his blue-green eyes. “My…job is to protect you from harm.”
“Emmy Lou?” Her daddy was headed their way. He didn’t look happy. “What’s going on?”
Sawyer’s hands slid free of her arms and he stepped back, all traces of emotion wiped away.
“One of you better start talking.” Daddy’s voice was razor-sharp. “Now.”
“I got dizzy.” That was true. But the rest of it stuck in her throat. Old habits die hard. Denying she had a problem, hiding the truth, was an old habit. She knew lying wouldn’t make this better. Then again, neither would telling the truth. “He helped me off the stage.”
By now, Jace, Krystal, and Travis had almost reached them, but their pace slowed when they heard their father. Daddy’s anger was a rare occurrence.
“That’s what the two of you were talking about? I don’t buy it.” Daddy’s voice rose. “I don’t want to lose you, son. I appreciate how hard you work and your loyalty; you know that. But I can’t have lines getting blurred here.”
The muscle in Sawyer’s jaw tightened. For anyone else, it wouldn’t have been noticeable. But for Sawyer and his stoicism, that muscle twitch said more than words.
“I need to know what the hell is going on, Emmy Lou. I won’t have any more secrets in my house.” Daddy met Sawyer’s gaze. “Otherwise, you’ll have to find yourself a new job.”
Sawyer’s gaze dropped.
“Daddy.” She wouldn’t lose her brother over this. She’d lost too much already. “He was doing his job. He noticed I… I’m not… I don’t eat. He told me to take care of myself.” She spit the words out. “I try, I do, but…he didn’t do a thing wrong. I did.”
Daddy was staring at her, confusion and sadness creasing his forehead and tugging down the corners of his mouth. “What are you saying, baby girl?”
“Oh, Daddy.” She shook her head, sucking in a wavering breath. “I know you’re upset, but this isn’t the right time or place for this.” Another breath. “It’s probably best to talk this through tomorrow. When we’ve had some sleep and no one’s waiting on us. Please.”
Daddy shook his head. “I don’t give a damn about the people waiting. You and your brother and sister—nothing matters more to me. You hear me, Emmy Lou? Nothing. You three are my pride and joy.” He cleared his throat, his gaze searching hers. “Your whole life, you’ve never broken a promise. So I’m asking you to promise me we’ll work this out together. Whatever it takes to get you help, get you eating. Promise me?”
Emmy Lou had big, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. “I promise.” It was a whisper. “But I do care about the people waiting. You know I can’t let them down.”
He pulled her in again, holding her and patting her back. “I know. I know. All right. Tomorrow, then.” He sighed, his hold tightening. “It’s going to be fine. We’ll figure this out.”
She clung to him. “I know, Daddy.”
Daddy cleared his throat. “Sawyer.” He eased his hold on Emmy Lou and stepped forward, holding out his hand. “I’m sorry, son. All you’ve ever done was take care of my family and I jumped down your throat for it.”
“She’s your daughter.” Sawyer’s gaze met Daddy’s. “This is my job. Protecting her.”
Daddy nodded, shaking Sawyer’s hand, then pulling him in for a quick one-armed hug that ended just as soon as it began. It only lasted a second, but Emmy Lou saw the flash of longing on Sawyer’s face. She ached for him—for them both.
“I’ll find Melanie so she can get you what you need.” Sawyer headed down the hall.
“I’ll stall them a minute. You go sit, take your time, and come on down when you’re ready.” Daddy patted her cheek. “You good?”
She nodded.
That was when her father realized they had an audience.
Krystal hugged him, pressed a kiss to his cheek, and said, “I’ll go with you. Jace, too. We’re so damn charming, they might not even miss Emmy Lou.” She winked at Emmy.
“I’ll stay with Emmy,” Travis said. For the first time in months, Travis looked at Daddy without hostility.
“You hear all that?” Daddy’s voice was thick.
Travis nodded.
Daddy nodded, took Krystal’s hand, and headed to the meet-and-greet around the corner.
“You don’t have to stay.” Emmy Lou pushed open her dressing room door. “I’m fine.” She took the pink guitar he handed her and cradled it against her chest. “Thank you. Present. It was a great show.”
“Yeah, sure.” He nodded, pure condescension. “Does that mean you think I’m going to pretend what just happened didn’t happen?”
Emmy Lou shook her head. “Trav—” She hadn’t expected him to wrap her up in his arms. Travis’s hugs lasted five seconds and were followed by lots of dismissive teasing. But he wasn’t letting her go. He didn’t let go until Sawyer came in with Melanie in tow.
“Gatorade and a banana.” Melanie waited for Travis to step aside before putting the half-peeled banana in her hand.
“All of it,” Travis said, crossing his arms and leaning against the vanity counter.
Sawyer stood beside Travis in exactly the same pose, opening the bottle of Gatorade. Side by side, it was hard to miss the resemblance. Then again, the idea of some secret half brother somewhere out there had never crossed her mind. She smiled, taking a bite of banana.
“What?” Travis asked, frowning.
Sawyer frowned, too.
“You two… Never mind.” She laughed, taking another bite.
“If you’re still hungry, these arrived for you.” Melanie nodded at the two boxes sitting on the vanity counter. “I didn’t read the card, but I think we can all guess who it’s from.”
“Who?” Travis asked, then winked, elbowing Sawyer in the side. Sawyer glared back at him.
In the week since the charity ball, they’d exchanged a handful of texts. She sent Brock pics of her and Watson. Brock sent her updates on his dad, Aunt Mo, and the Bremmy updates his agent sent him for clarification. It felt like the start of something. She picked up the boxes, opening the card first. “‘I’ll bring the tags with me to tomorrow’s show. Please put your ankle up and eat something. But maybe save me one of these, too. Brock.’”
She finished the banana and opened the box. Inside was a pale green kitten collar covered in sparkly metallic music notes. “Look. It’s so cute.” She held it out for their inspection. “For Watson.”
“Really? It’s not for you?” But Travis was smiling.
She shot him a look and opened the other box. A dozen carrot cake cupcakes.
“Your favorite.” Melanie smiled. “That’s so thoughtful of him.”
“Maybe.” Travis nodded, eyeing the cupcakes. “Or maybe he’s just buying her gifts and buttering her up so she’ll lose the nun’s habit for a night of s—”
She launched the cupcake without thought. But the look on Travis’s face when it smacked him square in the middle of his forehead was more than worth it. Sawyer’s laughter was the cherry on top.
* * *
Brock wasn’t sure where Emmy’s energy came from. He’d been mingling and shaking hands for over an hour now, and the constant chatter was wearing on him. He couldn’t imagine how Emmy Lou did it. Yes, he worked out for hours a day, but he didn’t have to do it wearing a smile and shoes that couldn’t be good for her ankle—after singing and dancing for two hours straight. There were over fifty thousand people in attendance, and somehow, they’d made the audience part of the show.
As they’d sung their last song, all he could think about was getting to Emmy Lou. Now she was in the same room, her gaze searching him out again and again, and it was hell not doing what he wanted to. But kissing her breathless couldn’t happen. Not yet, anyway.
“You keep staring at my sister that way and the whole Bremmy thing will never go away.” Krystal’s brows rose, her eyes assessing.
That obvious? He didn’t bother denying it. “I thought hashtags and Twitter and crap were good?”
Krystal laughed, then shrugged. “Crap, huh? Yeah, I don’t get it, either. But it’s the measuring stick for stardom these days.” Her eyes narrowed. In all the time he’d known the Kings, he’d never once thought Krystal and Emmy Lou looked like identical twins. The difference was in the way they moved, their posture, and their facial expressions. Krystal had the “fuck you” thing down. She was only as approachable as her smile. Emmy Lou had her own gravitational pull, welcoming everyone with one look. With one smile, she’d steal your heart.
“Now you’re staring.” He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what she was thinking. But he had a feeling he was going to find out soon enough, whether he liked it or not.
Her gaze sharpened as her smile faded. “I’m also trying to figure out why you’re here.”
“You could ask.” He shrugged. “Straight talk, straight answers.”
Her sigh was all exasperation. “You broke her once in a way that made me hate you. Now I see her light up over you again and I can’t help but remember that.” She glanced at Emmy. “I want you to leave her alone, Brock. I want you to go away and stay gone.” A deep V formed between her brows as her gaze searched his. “But Emmy’s cared more about making other people happy than being happy herself for too long. She deserves to be happy. And if you’ll stay and make her happy, that’s what I want for her… How’s that for straight talk?”
Every one of Krystal’s words made an impact. Was she saying Emmy Lou was unhappy? But this, all of this, was the life she’d wanted. All she wanted. And how the hell had he broken her? That was a punch to the throat. “You might want to check your facts. Most of what you just said isn’t true.” He didn’t want to open old wounds, but he had to set Krystal straight. His gaze met hers. “Krystal, you have to know I would never—”
“You two look far too serious.” Emmy Lou’s gaze bounced between the two of them, lingering on his mouth just long enough to make him smile. Her gaze fell away, her cheeks flushed pink.
All he could do was stare.
“What sort of reunion is this?” Krystal asked, nudging her sister. “You know everyone in the room is expecting more. Like you, Brock, say, ‘Hi, Emmy, you’re beautiful.’ Then Emmy, you’d say, ‘Thanks, Brock, hug me in your tree-trunk arms.’”
Brock had to laugh. Emmy did, too.
“She has a point,” Emmy said, breathless.
“My arms are tree trunks?” He teased.
She laughed. “Maybe we should…hug.” She swallowed, her cheeks more red than pink now. “If people are expecting—”
“Don’t want to let the fans down.” He took her hand. But once he’d pulled her into his arms, he almost groaned from the feel of her against him. He got lost in the slide of her arms around his neck, the way she rested her head against his chest…and the sweetest sigh he’d ever heard slipping from her mouth. Like maybe this was what she’d been waiting for, too.
“That should cover it,” Krystal said. “Really. Probably good now. Anytime.”
His arms fell away and Emmy stepped back, but her green eyes had a hold on him, so he stood there staring for the whole damn room to see.
“Well, shit.” Krystal was focused on something over Emmy’s shoulder. “Momma’s headed this way.” She grabbed Emmy’s hand. “That’s my cue to leave. Sorry, but you’ll have to face her alone.” She squeezed her sister’s arm and walked off.
Even though they walked past one another, close enough to touch, Krystal and CiCi avoided making eye contact. “Problem?” he asked, glancing Emmy’s way.
“Family stuff.” Emmy’s smile wavered. “What did you think?” She’d gone back to nibbling the inside of her lip, staring at his arm—his chest.
“Of the concert? Or the reunion?” He chuckled. “You need to ask?”
She glanced his way. “I’m glad you came.” There was the smile he loved.
His pulse picked up. “Me, too.” There was no place else he’d rather be.
Until CiCi King joined them. “You two lovebirds over here telling secrets?” Her voice was high enough to be heard by anyone listening. From where he stood, a good portion of the room did seem to be listening. Not that he cared. He did care about the warning bells that CiCi King’s grin triggered. “Do I want to know what the two of you are talking about?”
“The concert.” He nodded. “It was something.”
“Something?” CiCi’s brows rose. “I’m glad you think so.” She draped an arm around Emmy’s waist, lowering her voice. “After we get a few pictures of you two, go mingle, Emmy. You know how this works. If we’re going to keep this #Bremmy hashtag trending, we need to keep everyone guessing about you two.”
How this works? He swallowed. We? He risked a look Emmy’s way, but she was staring at a basketball photo on the far wall, her smile flat. Something hard and cold settled in the pit of his stomach.
“Your agent is sharp as a tack and full of ideas,” CiCi kept going. “You’d almost think that whole kitten business was a setup from it working out so well,” she whispered, patting his arm. “Don’t worry, Connie told me all about your big plans, Brock. On and off the field. And if all of this will fast-track your comeback, you know we’re happy to help.” She hugged Emmy. “Hank and Emmy have always had a soft spot for you.”
A buzzing started in his ears. What the fuck is she saying? That she and Connie had cooked up this whole Bremmy thing? That this was all for PR? For headlines? That’s bullshit. Connie would never reach out to this woman. For one thing, his agent was a control freak. Trying to imagine her and CiCi working together… No way. The rest of it? Was all of this a media stunt? Emmy’s smile? That was real… The cold was bone deep now. At least it helped numb the painful throb of his heart.
“Hank, sugar.” CiCi waved Hank over about the same time a photographer showed up. “Big smiles, y’all.”
He was pretty sure he didn’t smile. Not with CiCi’s words cycling through, over and over. She was a liar. But was it all a lie? He and Emmy… The only truth between them was attraction. Him hoping for anything more was only setting himself up for hurt—like this right here. After everything he’d been through, he knew better. He knew to keep Emmy Lou and the rest of the Kings at arm’s distance. But all it took was one look from her, one damn smile, and he willingly headed into a guaranteed clusterfuck of heartache.
Aunt Mo’s start fresh advice? A joke. Worse? He was the joke.
“Weren’t there some people Emmy needed to talk to, Hank?” CiCi was all softness and smiles for her husband. “Guitar people?”
“Fender.” Hank King nodded, smiling with excitement. “What do you think about a King Limited Edition Fender, baby girl?”
“Wow.” Emmy’s monotone delivery was off. She was white as a sheet, hands shaking, and green eyes huge in her pale face. Something was wrong.
“Em?” He reached for her hand.
She recoiled, startling all of them. “I mean it.” She blinked, turning to her father. “Really, Daddy, that’s amazing.” But her excitement was forced.
“Emmy?” Hank tilted her face back. “You feeling okay? You… eat the dinner the nutritionist recommended for you?”
Her parents knew about Emmy’s eating disorder? That was a relief. Or was it? If they’d known about it, shouldn’t they be doing more to help? As beautiful as she was, she’d lost more weight since the last time he’d seen her—weight she couldn’t afford to lose.
“Hank.” CiCi’s voice was a hiss. “People might hear you.”
“I don’t give a damn.” Hank hooked his arm through Emmy’s.
The snap in Hank’s voice was a shock. So was the resentment on CiCi’s face. And Krystal earlier… Was the Kings’ close-knit family just one more illusion?
Emmy leaned into her father and nodded. “I ate it, Daddy. Every bite.” Her smile returned, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “A promise is a promise. Now, let’s go see what this King Limited Edition guitar will look like. Better hurry before Krystal has it covered in crystals.” Emmy was already trying to tug her father away.
Hank chuckled. “After, how about we go get ice cream?”
“What’s wrong with carrot sticks?” CiCi sighed.
And just like that, Emmy seemed to withdraw. “Carrots sound good.”
“Not to me.” Hank ignored his wife’s frustrated sigh. “Brock, glad you came to the show.” Hank shook his hand. “Join us for ice cream?”
For ice cream? Or more publicity? He and Emmy sharing an ice cream sundae would be Bremmy gold. It took effort, but he managed to swallow his bitterness and disappointment.
“I’m sure he has more important things to do, Hank.” CiCi regarded her husband with what appeared to be genuine affection. “Though you are welcome to stay, of course.”
“But thanks for coming, Brock.” Emmy’s gaze looked right through him. “Take care.”
Her quick dismissal emptied his lungs—a balloon with a slow leak. “You too.”
With a parting nod, Hank led Emmy Lou back into the crowd of fans.
“Well, Bremmy lives to trend another day. Job well done.” CiCi waved at someone walking by. “You’ve learned how to play the game.”
A game. It made sense. Everything about CiCi King was calculated. Like tonight. Everything she’d said, true or not, was deliberate. This wasn’t about Emmy, what she felt or wanted. This was about CiCi keeping all her pieces on her chessboard, making the moves she wanted them to make.
“This isn’t a game to me, CiCi. It never was.” He searched the room for Emmy but wound up locking eyes with Krystal. She was watching him, watching her mother, like a hawk. “I’d never use Emmy to boost my career.” Just saying it stuck in his throat.
“You can’t say that anymore, Brock. You’re here, aren’t you? Why else would you be here?” Her eyes went wide, shocked. It was the first authentic reaction she’d given since she’d come crashing in on his evening. “Oh, honey, no. Not again. Now you know—none of this is real.” She patted his arm. “It’s done with anyway. After tonight. It’s not like the two of you will be seeing each other much now. You take care of yourself, Brock.” With a toss of platinum hair and the shimmer of red beads, she crossed the room to join her family.
She wanted him gone, he got that. And soon. For reasons he didn’t understand, she was determined to keep him and Emmy apart. She was right about one thing, none of tonight was real. Something was off. More than that. He couldn’t shake the feeling that she was hiding something. Nothing else made sense. Something about him. And Emmy. Something that might threaten the hold CiCi had on her daughter. He just wished he knew what it was.