“I know you have like one minute. That’s all I need.” She practically ran to him. “I am so sorry.”
He frowned. “For what?”
“For thinking the worst. For giving credence to voices other than yours.” She shook her head. “If you can forgive me, and I really hope you will, then I want you to know that I…have loved you since the day I met you and I always will.” She swallowed. “If you can’t forgive me, I understand. But I still want you to know that I did write you—every day. I sent them, but they never reached you. I needed you to know that, too.”
He was staring at her, his heart full to bursting. “Anything else?”
She shook her head, nibbling the inside of her lower lip.
“Sawyer told me.” He stepped closer, wishing for the time to say all the things that needed to be said. “Everything. Your mother sent mine back without you knowing it.”
She was smiling. “You wrote to me?”
“I said I would.” He took another step.
“Wait? Sawyer?” She could not have been more stunned.
“Sort of my reaction
when he showed up at my place. He has an awful strong attachment for you.” Brock shook his head. “I get it, sort of, but he was determined to tell me what a fool I was for not fighting for you.”
“He’s my brother,” she whispered.
That was the last thing he’d expected to hear. “What?” Her brother? “That explains a lot.”
She nodded. “And he is getting the biggest hug ever when I see him next. Whether he likes it or not.”
“We’ll get back to that.” He itched to touch her. “As to what you were saying about loving me…”
“Miss King, your time is up.” McCoy was red faced, waving Brock forward. “Get your ass out there, Brock. Now.”
“Dammit.” She winced. “I’m sorry. Go.”
“That’s some strong language, Emmy Lou King.” Brock put on his helmet, grinning like a fool and not caring in the least. “And when I get back, we can talk about that, too.” He ran out of the tunnel and onto the field, the roar of the crowd rising up to greet the players.
His focus was crystal clear, holding the opposing team at a standstill and laying those who tried to break through on their back. They were winning at the half. Spirits were high—but none higher than Brock’s.
Emmy was here.
She loved him.
She wanted to try again.
What else did he need to know? Nothing. He headed into the locker room, listened to Coach rip apart their offense and point out their near miss in the second quarter, and then turned to the board for a few last-minute strategy points.
While the rest of the team was cooling down, he dug through his gym bag for the ring he’d bought the night Vanessa had called him. All those plans…all the misunderstanding. No more. From here on out, Emmy would always know where she stood with him. He headed out onto the field.
Emmy Lou was on the stage, singing her heart out. She was standing, head thrown back, her long, blond hair swaying as she belted out “Your Loss.” The crowd went crazy when she finished.
“Y’all have been a great audience. I’ve got one more for you. It’s new. But you’ll probably figure out who I’m singing it to. I’m hoping he’ll hear it—but I guess we’ll see.” She closed her eyes and sang.
One step, what can go wrong? What’s left for me to lose?
Each day, a fresh start, stronger, if that’s what I choose.
One hope, rising inside me, that you’ll hear my song.
Each night, I close my eyes and hope I wasn’t wrong.