“Emmy Lou.”
She jumped.
Sawyer’s hands rested on her shoulder, turning her slowly to face him. He whispered something that sounded a lot like, “What is wrong with them?” For the first time, he wasn’t trying to hide his pain—or sympathy. He hurt. For her. He wasn’t looking at her like he was her bodyguard; he was looking at her like he was her brother. “You cry.” He pulled her into his arms and held her tight. “I’ve got you.”
* * *
Brock glanced at the clock. Emmy Lou was home for one night and he’d made big plans. In a couple of hours, he and Emmy Lou were meeting at Aunt Mo’s, then making the drive to Lady Bird Lake. He’d rented out a paddlewheel boat for the evening. First, they’d watch the bats, sail until it was dark, then head to the little honky-tonk that had been one of their favorite spots in high school. And, if things went the way he hoped they did, the night might end with a ring on Emmy’s finger. He’d seen it and known it was hers. An emerald, like her eyes, surrounded by diamonds.
He was shaving when his phone started ringing. “Hello?”
“Brock.” A sob. “Brock, I’m so sorry to bother you.” It was Vanessa.
“V, I can’t—”
“He kicked me out, Brock.” She sniffed. “Mark found out about the money and my mom and said he couldn’t live with someone who lied.”
After she’d left, his conscience wouldn’t let him rest. If things had been reversed? If it were for Aunt Mo? The only solution was to drive with her to the mortgage lenders, transfer the money to her there, and watch her write the check out. He’d told her not to keep it a secret… But it didn’t sound like she’d listened to that part.
“I’m sorry, Vanessa.” He meant it. While he understood where her fiancé was coming from, he didn’t understand the dynamics of their relationship. Not my business.
“All I have is my phone. I don’t have my purse or money or any place to go.”
He leaned against the bathroom counter. “Did you call Janine?”
“She’s on her way back from Dallas. They just left.”
Meaning it would be four hours before Vanessa would have help. She needed it now.
“You’re the only one I can call.” She sniffed. “That doesn’t use, I mean. I can’t go somewhere where that is an option right now.”
She knew her limits. Good. “What about your mom?” There had to be an alternative.
“Antiquing in Fredericksburg. I’m not sure sitting in her empty house is a good idea. I can’t be alone. I’m sorry, Brock. You’ve already helped me so much—with everything.” She sucked in an unsteady breath. “But…I don’t trust myself right now. I’ve got no one else to call.”
He’d been clean and sober for four years. Vanessa had slipped twice. How could he turn his back on her? Fuck. He couldn’t. He slammed his razor on the counter. “Where are you?”
Once he had directions, he hung up, wiped off his face, grabbed his keys, and climbed into his truck. He called Emmy Lou, but it went straight to voi
cemail.
“Fuck.” He slammed his hand against the steering wheel and waited for the beep. “I hope you haven’t left yet, Em. I can’t make it. I’m sorry. If it wasn’t important, you know I’d be there. See you soon.” He ended the call and turned the radio on high, bass thumping.
Vanessa was pacing outside the front of a Super Snak and Corner Gas station. Her makeup was smeared down her face and she was wearing silky pajamas with a suit jacket over the top. Not exactly the safest getup for this part of town. “You should have waited inside, V.”
“There’s alcohol in there.” She climbed into the truck and put on her seat belt.
“I thought you didn’t have a purse?” He pulled back onto the highway.
“I don’t. It’s amazing what a guy will do for a pretty girl who smiles and says thank you.” There was bitterness in her voice.
Weird clothing and streaked makeup aside, Vanessa was gorgeous. She’d known her limits and hadn’t tested them. “I’m proud of you for not going in.”
She looked at him, smiled, then dissolved into tears. “Why am I so stupid?”
He reached over, opened his glove box, and pulled out a napkin. “Here.”
“You still do that?” she asked, reaching for a napkin. “You’re the only guy I know who hoards drive-through napkins in their glove box.”