Song for a Cowboy (Kings of Country 2)

“Just like Krystal, I’ve been struggling with something horrible…things beyond my control. Maybe my story can help someone.” She nodded. “It’s all here. Meeting your father. Being disowned by your granddad. The accident. You kids…and after.” Her breath hitched. “None of this is my fault. You know that. I’d do anything to protect you kids, anything.” She shook her head. “How many times do I need to apologize to her for my addiction?”

Her, meaning Krystal. Had Momma ever apologized? Did an apology count if the “I’m sorry” was followed by a “but”? Emmy Lou didn’t think so. And Momma’s apologies always came with a “but.” If she published this? Aired all their secrets for the world? Emmy felt sick.

“Food,” Travis said, carrying a large pastry box. “And coffee.”

Krystal followed, handing Emmy Lou her special meal bef

ore sitting with Travis at the bar.

“Tell me you’re eating something besides donuts?” Momma sighed. “You can’t keep your energy up if you’re full of sugar. Or keep your waistline under control for that matter.”

Even buried in Emmy’s purse, there was no missing her ringtone. “Sorry, I meant to silence that,” Emmy said. It wasn’t Melanie’s or Daddy’s ringtone; it could wait.

“I’ll get it,” Travis said, shoving an entire donut into his mouth.

“It’s okay, Travis.” Emmy waved him away from her purse.

“Want me to answer it? Or see who’s calling?” He winked at her. “Might be important.”

“No,” Emmy said. He was going to bait her about Brock with their mother in the room? She smiled when Krystal reached over and pinched their brother, hard. “It can go to voicemail.”

“What if it’s Daddy?” Momma said, turning. “Bring it here, Travis.”

It happened so quickly, there was no time to react.

One second, Travis was smiling like an idiot with her purse in his hands. The next, he tripped and fell. He caught himself, but her bag upended on the way to the ground, scattering its contents all over the hotel suite floor. Sunglasses. A compact. Two tubes of lipstick. Her phone and a comb. And at least ten red condom wrappers decorated with gold soldiers.

Her mother’s shock was one thing, but having Daddy and Sawyer walk in, right then, made it ten times worse. Tension flooded the silence, enough to make Emmy’s palms sweat.

“Really?” Travis started laughing. “Come on. Where’s your sense of humor? It’s a joke.”

All heads, including hers, swiveled his way. What?

“A joke?” Daddy ran a hand over his face. “You put a bunch of prophylactics in your sister’s purse as a joke?”

“Travis Wayne.” Momma was not amused. “What were you thinking?”

“What sort of joke is that?” Daddy added.

“Not a very good one, obviously. Since no one is laughing.” He pointed at Emmy, looking almost sad. “Condoms. Emmy. That’s funny. Hell, I think it’s hilarious.”

Emmy Lou was staring at her brother, dumbfounded. Travis was quick. As wrong as it was, it was also sort of impressive. Were they really buying this?

“You’re the only one laughing. Clean that up.” Daddy pointed at the ground, sighing. “What is wrong with you?”

Daddy might not see the impact his words had on Travis, but she and Krystal did. Her big brother was covering for her and it had cost him their father’s approval. Travis must have seen the worry on her face because he gave her a wink and mouthed, You owe me.

She smiled and nodded.

“What’s all that?” Daddy asked, pointing at Momma’s hastily collected pages.

“Oh, nothing.” Momma smiled. “Nothing at all.”

Emmy stared at her breakfast, her stomach in knots. This was her family, the people she loved most…and they were all keeping secrets and telling lies. Now she’d added to that. Was it selfish to want to guard the beginning of whatever was happening between her and Brock? Maybe. But her secret could only hurt herself. That was a risk she was willing to take.

* * *

It had been a long time since Brock had enjoyed watching Monday night football. But tonight, he enjoyed it. The best part of it was hearing his father pick apart plays and argue with the sports commentators—like he used to. He missed his father, missed their shared passion for the game…missed looking in his eyes and knowing his father knew who he was. About midway through the third quarter, his father had dozed off. Brock kept the television on but packed up the snacks, cleaned up their trash, and washed his hands in the sink.