AllFreeNovel
Share Us
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.
Chapter 13
“Maybe a cup of tea will help?” Emmy asked Watson, who meowed in response. After tossing and turning most of the night, she’d need more than one cup of tea to get through the day. But she’d manage it; she always did. While Watson scampered off, Emmy cradled her teacup and slipped into the leather-upholstered café booth, custom designed for the Kings’ Coach II. Her and Krystal’s tour bus had all the bells and whistles, a fact Travis reminded everyone of whenever he had the chance. Chances were, he’d show up soon so she’d laid out all the makings for coffee—complete with his favorite USA Good Morning anchor Molly Harper coffee mug.
Watson came running across the room, leapt high, and pounced on her slippered feet. “Are you defeating the evil pom-poms?” She turned her phone over, ignoring the constant alerts. Hashtag #Bremmy was still going strong. She’d turned it off last night, hoping a little peace and quiet would let her sleep. Since she’d turned it on, it hadn’t stopped pinging and vibrating. Instagram. Snapchat. TikTok. She and Brock. Last night had only added to the speculation. Their hug. Her staring at his chest. His face when he hugged her. Them smiling at each other. Momma was right. “About everything?” she asked Watson, blowing out a shaky breath.
Watson jumped onto the table, sniffing her cup.
