“Emmy?” He immediately reached for her. “Are you okay?”
She sidestepped his touch, and from the corner of his eye, he saw Sawyer take a couple of steps closer. But she held up her hand—shook her head. And Sawyer went back into statue mode.
An ice-cold current flooded his veins. He froze, his hands falling to his sides. “Just tell me everyone is okay?”
For a split second, her green eyes collided with his. “Eventually.” Her gaze fell. “I need to say a few things. I only have a few minutes, so I’ll be quick.” She cleared her throat. “I’d appreciate it if you’d let me talk without interrupting. Okay?”
He nodded; everything about this was setting off warning bells. What the fuck is going on?
“My momma has a lot of flaws. There is no way to deny that. She manipulates people, lies to get her way, and generally messes with people until they don’t know which way is up. I know this. It’s how I grew up. To be honest, I didn’t realize that her tactics were abnormal until this whole thing with Krystal blew up. I’ve lived my whole life as a puppet, not realizing it, of course. But…” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Em—”
“Brock.” Again, her eyes shifted to him—then at the concrete at her feet. “We have never talked about the future.”
“I want to.” He swallowed, stepping closer. Her immediate step back made him stop. “We need to.”
“Not really.” There was a sad smile on her face. “Basically, I wanted to thank you. I’ve always sort of given everyone the benefit of the doubt. I wanted to believe in the good, even when there was no reason. I honestly believed there was some way you and I could make this work. But between you and my mother, I’ve finally realized that I need to wake up.” She shook her head. “I can count all the people I truly trust on one hand. And you are not one of them.” Her breath hitched.
He couldn’t breathe—couldn’t think.
“I don’t know what happened six years ago. You could have told me the truth. It might have been unpleasant, but it would have been over without leaving me to wonder what I did to make you leave. It would have been the decent thing to do. I hope, at least, you burned my letters. If you haven’t, please do?” She shook her head. “I loved you too much.” Her voice was wavering now. “I guess I always will.”
She was talking too fast for him to keep up. One thing was clear, though: she was saying goodbye—and he had to stop her. “Emmy, wait please—”
“No.” She shook her head. “I’ve spent too much time waiting on you. I didn’t even realize I was until I saw you in the parking lot. But I’m not going to love you anymore.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “What I don’t understand is why you couldn’t be straight with me this time. Better yet, just leave me alone. Why? What possible reason could you have for intentionally lying to me again?” Her voice was stronger—angrier. “I’m not going to let anyone else use me, Brock. Not you or my mother. And I’m definitely not going to settle for being someone’s second choice…or their backup option.” Her gaze met his, flashing with pure fire.
“I wanted to talk to you about all of this.” He ran a hand along the back of his neck, searching for the right words. “You should have heard this from me—”
“Yes. I should have.” She stared at his chest. “Not from my brothers and sister. Not from the television or the internet.”
“What?”
She did look at him then. “You and Vanessa? The pictures.” Her gaze traveled over his face. “It doesn’t matter. I’m done. We, whatever this was, is done.”
He didn’t know what she was talking about. Vanessa? What pictures? Emmy was all that mattered. It took everything he had to stay calm. “Will you let me say something?”
She shook her head. “The thing is, when it comes to you, I can’t trust myself. I listen to my heart when my head is warning me to walk away.” She kept shaking her head. “I’m walking away. Now.”
Panic kicked in and he grabbed her hand as she brushed past him. “Emmy, I didn’t want you to find out this way.” He groaned, beyond frustrated. “There are things I can’t tell you.”
She nodded. “That’s fine. I don’t want to hear them anyway.” She tugged her hand away and walked, quickly, from the dressing room.
He started to go after her, but Sawyer was blocking his path.
“Leave her alone, man.” It was an order—a threat.
“You don’t want to do this with me.” It wasn’t a threat. It was a statement. Sawyer thought he was a badass—he probably was. But now wasn’t the time to issue a challenge.
“You’re right. I don’t.” Sawyer frowned. “I don’t want to hurt her by hurting you. I think she’s suffered enough. You have no idea.”
It was enough to stop him.
Sawyer turned and followed Emmy Lou
down the hall—out of sight. But the roar of the crowd, the screams of “Emmy Lou” and “I love you,” told him she was going on with the show. While he stood there, reeling.
He had to do something. He had to make this right. She was hurting—but she didn’t know the truth. If she knew, she’d understand. If he could talk to her, he could explain… What? What could he say?