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Travis sat forward. “Funny you should say that, Dad—”
Emmy stomped on his toe, hard, under the table. Sharing things with her siblings was one thing. But dragging Daddy into this, when there was nothing but speculation, felt wrong. She was still struggling with misplaced guilt—according to her first session with her therapist—for burdening her family with her eating disorder. “There are bagels if you’re hungry.”
“That’s an awful lot of carbs to start the day.” Momma sighed.
“I love me some carbs in the morning.” Travis stood, stretched, and carried his cup to the counter. “Are we up for a King family meeting? War council? World domination? What? After I have two or three bagels, with a side of extra carbs.” He was all smiles.
“Poke all you want, Travis. You’re not getting a rise out of me.” Momma stood, her arms crossed over her waist. “Daddy and I figured we’d check on you all before we started driving.”
“Well now, that’s…” Travis paused, taking a massive bite out of his bagel. “Mighty unusual.” He grinned.
Emmy turned all her attention on Watson. If she didn’t, she’d laugh. Momma might tolerate all sorts of teasing and shenanigans from Travis, but one thing she would not tolerate was laughter at her expense. Watson was all too happy to roll over for a belly rub.
“Everything okay?” Krystal asked, her gaze fixed on Daddy.
“Everything is fine.” Daddy nodded, looking at Emmy’s breakfast. “Just checking in.”
Emmy swallowed another bite. “On me?” Once the carton was empty, she held it up. “All good?”
Daddy nodded but Momma stood, placing a hand on Daddy’s arm. “I need a minute, Emmy.” She glanced pointedly around the room. “It won’t take long. I know we need to get back on the road.”
Emmy held her breath until they were in her room, bracing herself for who knows what.
“I owe you an apology.” Momma cleared her throat. “I acted poorly.”
Emmy pushed her brush aside to sit on the edge of her bed. “Why, Momma?”
Momma picked up her brush. “Let me?” Emmy nodded, turning so Momma could brush her hair. “I used to do this for hours when you were little. You remember? You’d let me braid and clip and give you fancy twists. You’ve always had the softest hair.” She kept brushing Emmy’s hair. “A sweet smile and a big heart, too. You give people the benefit of the doubt, even when they don’t deserve it.” There was a sheen in Momma’s eyes. “But not him—not again. I talked to him at the field and again last night, did you know that? He’s so jealous of you and your success. It’s almost like he’s come back wanting to hurt you. And he has, leading you on this way.” She kept brushing. “If his agent hadn’t called to thank me, I’d never have known how important this Bremmy thing is for him. It’s already changed his life. He just signed a seven-figure deal with Alpha Menswear—after all this went viral. That’s why he came to the concert.” She stopped brushing Emmy’s hair and crouched by her side. “I get upset and I get all momma bear. But I am trying harder. I’m just so worried about you. Daddy, too. We love you so much, baby girl. This not eating thing…” She drew in a deep breath. “That comes first. You being healthy. I can’t lose you, too, Emmy.” She took her hand. “Yes, I’m trying to protect you. I always will… All I can think about is what happens if he hurts you again. You took it so hard last time.” Momma burst into tears. “You’re not strong enough, Emmy.”
Emmy pulled her close, crying, too. “Momma, don’t cry.” Barbed wire seemed to wrap itself around her lungs.
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bsp; “Can you forgive me?” Her arms tightened around her. “Can you understand? You’re my whole world, Emmy Lou. My baby girl. I have to do what’s best for you.” She peered up at Emmy, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Even if, sometimes, it hurts.”
It was easier to hug Momma again and hold her tight than it was to look her in the eye and lie. As earnest as her mother appeared, a sliver of doubt remained. She needed answers, and the only person who could give them to her was Brock.
* * *
Brock pulled off his worn leather gloves and threw them into the cab of the ranch truck. He ran the back of his hand across his forehead, tucked his keys into his pocket, and climbed up the front steps of the ranch house.
“Get it all done?” Aunt Mo asked, sitting on the front porch with a bag of snap peas in her lap and a bowl on the swing beside her.
“Yes, ma’am. If we get an early storm, they can pen the herd in the north shed. Heat lamps are working, and I went ahead and replaced the bottom strand of wire. Didn’t like the look of it.” He leaned against the porch railing, watching Aunt Mo’s quick work.
Brock’s phone was ringing from inside the house.
“That phone has been ringing since you left.” She shot him a look. “If I knew how to turn it off, I would have. Can hardly hear myself think with all that racket.”
“Sorry, Aunt Mo.” He smiled, but he didn’t move.
“Don’t sit there. Answer it or turn it off.” Aunt Mo frowned. “But from all the ringing, I’m thinking you should go on and answer it.”
He pushed off the railing and headed inside. There was a reason he’d left his phone here. It had been a long time since he’d been this wound up, but he knew he wasn’t fit for conversation.
Until he saw who was calling. “Connie.” He barked her name.
“Sounds like someone is having a rough day?”
