Jace, page 12
Jace laughed. She was growing far too fond of that laugh.
“My ice cream is melting.” Travis pointed at what appeared to be whipped cream piled high on a large ice cream shake.
“Then you’d better answer.” She pushed. “We win as is, or we play through?”
“You win,” Travis grumbled softly.
“Sorry, man, even I’m going to have to ask you to repeat that.” Jace shook his head.
“Really?” Travis sighed. “Fine. You. Win. But we’re kicking your ass next time.”
Krystal flopped into the chair beside Heather, smiling as Clem jumped into her lap and planted two doggy kisses on her chin. “Are you proud of your mommy, Clem? Putting Uncle Trav in his place like that.”
“Give it a rest.” Travis shoved a handful of cheesy fries into his mouth. “Mm, good.”
Jace sat beside Krystal, reaching over to give Clementine a gentle scratch. “Hey, Clem.”
Clem’s little tail went fast motion.
“Clementine,” she pretend whispered. “A lady should pretend to play hard to get.”
Jace shook his head. “I prefer a straightforward woman myself.” His gaze met hers. “No games.”
“Chocolate shake. Your fave.” Heather slid the milkshake toward her brother and yawned. “Do you guys do this sort of thing often?”
Emmy Lou glanced at the clock on the back wall. “Is it really three?”
“I don’t think we’ve ever bowled at three in the morning.” Krystal took a fry from the plate Jace offered. “Thank you.”
“Guess we’re getting special treatment, Heather.” Jace winked at his sister and took a sip of his shake. “Damn, that is good.” He ran his tongue along his lower lip and took another sip. “Want some?” He held the cup out, the straw sliding around, tip toward Krystal.
The idea of putting her lips on the very place his had just been kick-started a pulse in the base of her belly. She shook her head.
“You’re missing out.”
She reconsidered the whole climbing into his lap thing but got ahold of herself before she did something she’d seriously regret.
Jace offered the tall glass to his sister. “Heather?”
They passed the mountain of food around, sharing bites and relaxing. Krystal ate one piece of cheese pizza, a handful of cheesy fries, and the better part of her vanilla milkshake before exhaustion hit her. While Travis had launched into one of his never-ending monologues on the importance of a four-by-four off-roading package for any self-respecting truck owner, she was sliding down in her chair.
She didn’t know when Jace had moved closer. Or when he’d slid his arm around her so she could rest against his shoulder. If Travis hadn’t yelled, “Rematch?” and jolted her awake, she probably would have stayed blissfully asleep. Against Jace. Again.
But this time she only had her arm draped across his waist. She sat up quickly, her head smacking into Jace’s chin with an audible clack.
“Ow,” she hissed, rubbing her head.
“Yeah.” Jace was rubbing his jaw.
“Hard headed. I told you.” Travis laughed.
“Sorry,” she murmured, still rubbing her head.
Jace wiggled his jaw back and forth. “You okay?” His fingers slid through her hair to feel for a knot.
She shivered. He was warm, his touch, his gaze—all of him. She wanted his warmth. Badly. If there hadn’t been an audience, she would have crawled into his lap right then and there. Between the heavy stubble on his jaw, his heavy-lidded gaze, and his scent still clinging to her hair and cheek, she was ready to throw in the towel and surrender to this wildfire hold he had on her.
But they did have an audience. Her siblings. And his little sister. Heather was watching with wide eyes.
She leaned away from him. “I’m fine. Thanks.”
“Travis.” Emmy shook her head, but she was smiling. “That was mean.”
“It’s a brother’s prerogative.” Travis was staring at Krystal, looking like the cat that ate the canary. “More pics to add to my ever-growing collection.”
“Who’s playing?” Emmy asked.
“Go ahead.” Krystal waved her away.
“This is sort of like a dream.” Heather continued to stroke a softly snoring Clementine. “I mean, no one would believe this. This sort of thing doesn’t happen to normal people.” Her brown eyes widened. “Not that you’re not normal. You are way…better than normal. What am I doing? I so need to stop talking… Sorry.”
Krystal smiled, stirring the remains of her perfect vanilla shake with a long red-striped straw. “Don’t be. I get it.” She shrugged. “Honestly? I’d be okay living a normal life.”
Heather frowned. “Why? I mean…why? When you have this?” She pointed at Travis, Jace, and Emmy, staring at the illuminated scoreboard over their lane of the deserted bowling alley. “You guys rented out a bowling alley. After hours. And the kitchen opened.” She nodded at the table, covered in pizza crust, cheesy fries, empty burger wrappers, and a variety of soda and ice cream shake cups.
Krystal felt bad about this. The bowling alley had been closing up when they got there, but Travis had knocked on the door, and, suddenly, the whole place was at their beck and call. Money was a powerful incentive. And the bragging rights. They had taken a handful of pics with the owners—a small thank-you for the immense accommodation considering the late hours and cleanup the owners would be facing after they left. “Travis tends to get his way when he turns on the charm.”
“I don’t think they mind.” Heather smiled at the older couple watching them, smiling, from the counter that ran the length of the bowling alley.
Krystal was too busy watching Jace bend forward to pick up his ball to answer. No doubt about it, tonight had turned her into a bowling fan.
Jace turned, winked at Heather, and smiled at Krystal.
“My brother likes you.” For the first time all night, Heather’s smile wobbled.
Krystal wasn’t sure what was more worrisome: Heather’s observation or her vanishing smile. What was she supposed to say? What was there to say?
“It’s just that, after everything he’s been through, I’m a little overprotective of him.” Heather shrugged. “The television show sort of dragged it all up again. They thought his story made for good drama.” She shook her head. “Like it was a story? And just when he was starting to get over it. Well, maybe not over it—I don’t think he’ll ever be over it.” She blew out a long breath, her brown eyes locking on her brother’s back. “But, you know, it was everywhere.”
Krystal had no idea what she was talking about. Maybe if she’d watched the tapes her father had sent her, she’d know what the show had brought up and what Jace was starting to get over. “You lost me.”
Heather frowned, studying her long and hard before her expression cleared. “You have no idea my brother was married?”
“No.” It made sense. Jace was a good guy; she was beginning to believe that. “What happened?” If the rest of the world knew, it didn’t seem like too invasive a question. Besides, what sort of woman would let Jace Black go?
“They died.” Heather’s voice dropped, wavering.
The air in her lungs grew thick and heavy, and heat crawled up the sides of her neck and into her face. White-hot. All the ice cream and pizza and french fries were a bad idea. She didn’t want to know. She didn’t. “They?” It was a whisper.
“My nephew.” Heather sniffed. “Ben. He was almost two.”
Krystal stood up. She didn’t know where she was going or why, but she had to move. That wasn’t the answer she’d expected. His wife and her boyfriend maybe? That would have been good drama. His wife and son? That wasn’t a story. That was a tragedy. A nightmare. One there was no waking up from. “I’m so sorry, Heather.” Jace had lost a wife and son. Heather had lost a sister-in-law and nephew. “I had no idea.”
Heather nodded, watching her. “I guess I thought the whole world knew by now.”
She shook her head, trying, and failing, not to look Jace’s way. “I feel… I’ve been so hard on him. Teasing him.” Relentlessly. If she wasn’t glaring or throwing verbal grenades his way, there was the other thing—the visceral, near-electric arc connecting the two of them and threatening nuclear meltdown.
“Maybe that’s why he likes you so much. You treat him normally.”
He must have known she was staring at him because he turned to look their way. A quick double take between her and Heather almost had him heading over, but Travis stopped him, pointing at the scoreboard and pulling him back into the game.
“I know you like him too. And I’m glad. I mean, hello, he might be my brother, but I know he’s one of the good guys and he deserves like a really, really good woman. Who will love him more than anyone or anything else, you know?” Heather cleared her throat. “If that’s you, and I think it might be, just know that about him. That he’s been through a lot. Like a lot, a lot. And it wouldn’t be fair for him to go through something like that again. Right?”
Krystal nodded. Heather was a sweet kid but she couldn’t be more wrong. It’s not me. The heat in her face was drying her throat until the urge to cough was overwhelming. She picked up her shake and finished it off, closing her eyes against the telltale sting.
“Come on, Heather,” Emmy Lou called out. “Girls against the boys.”
Heather sat Clementine on the cushion at her side, watching as the dog yawned, stretched, and curled into a ball before dropping back into a deep sleep. She cast a nervous glance at Krystal. “Should I have told you? He really likes you, is all. I mean, really. But, I mean, you’re Krystal King. Famous and beautiful, and well, he’s just my brother. A normal guy who’s had his heart broken.” She paused. “Jace always said your songs said the things he couldn’t, that your words made him hurt a little less. Like, maybe you could understand what he’s been through?”
Krystal couldn’t answer. Not yet. Jace had lost his wife and son. She’d only lost…herself.
“Writing a song about something doesn’t make you an expert on it.” Her father had said it time and again. “Living life—that’s the best way to make your music real.” That was why she didn’t write happy love songs. She didn’t know what that meant, and contrary to what her mother said, lying didn’t come easily to her. All she knew about love was pain and hurt and betrayal and loss.
Jace Black deserved a better song, and a better love, than that.
Heather’s gaze fell from hers. “I definitely should have stopped talking like fifteen minutes ago.”
Anxiety laced the girl’s words, so somehow, Krystal was saying, “I’m glad you told me.” She was. Sort of. Now she needed time to process it. Alone, preferably. “You go play…er, bowl. I’ll be back.” She did her best to smile as she hurried to the restroom.
Washing her hands in ice-cold water helped. But coming eye to eye with her reflection had her gripping the sink.
“It’s not always about you.” It was something her momma had said over and over. “Other people have feelings, too. You need to think about what you say and do, about how your words and actions will affect everyone involved—not just you.”
“You’re right, Momma,” Krystal whispered.
Whatever this was between her and Jace didn’t matter. It wouldn’t last, so why waste time starting something that would wind up causing them both pain? This was about him, about the break he deserved and the life he could have. She wasn’t going to get in his way. The best way to do that was to stay out of his way—better yet, stay away. She and Jace had to spend time together onstage but, from now on, that was the only time they’d spend together.
* * *
“Try this one.” Calvin Laramie had a close-trimmed beard, a brightly colored plaid button-up shirt, and spray-painted-on jeans with shredding on one thigh—something the man hadn’t earned from a day’s hard labor. His jeans were tucked into ostrich boots that cost as much as Jace had spent on his last truck. This was the stylist CiCi King had hired to “give Jace a look that would set him apart.” Luke had about fallen over when he’d heard the news. CiCi, Luke said, was a genius when it came to this industry. She knew the right people and stayed ahead of the trends—hell, she’d started a few. If she thought Calvin was the man to help Jace make his mark, Luke was on board.
But even Luke was eyeing the jacket with suspicion.
Jace stared at the metal-studded black leather jacket the man held out for him to try on. In what world would he wear that? “Pass.”
“I do know what I’m doing.” Calvin shook the jacket. “It’s my business to create a star.”
Jace didn’t answer. He wasn’t one to complain, but the afternoon was wearing on his patience. Leather pants? Damn no. Boots with a silver-tapped four-inch heel? What the hell was that? Jeans with fancy designs and shiny crap? Was CiCi King out to make a fool out of him? Or did she honestly believe this was what was needed to “take him to the next level.”
He was pretty sure spending ten hours a day with his band was the best way to take him to the next level, but he wasn’t going to argue with the woman. The sooner this ordeal was over, the better. He’d probably change back into his own clothes, anyway.
“This?” With a sigh, Calvin pulled a black snap-front button-up from the rack.
It was a traditional black cowboy-cut shirt with pearl snaps. No embroidery. No leather. No shiny beads to make his eyes cross. Still, the glossy sheen on the pearl snaps were not his style.
“Come on, Jace,” Luke encouraged. Poor guy was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He wanted to take care of Jace, but he also wanted to stay in CiCi King’s good graces. Jace was pretty sure a choice was going to have to be made and, possibly, Jace would wind up looking for a new agent.
“Fine.” He tugged his worn grey T-shirt over his head and tossed it onto the dressing room table.
A quick knock and the dressing room door opened.
“Travis?” Krystal leaned in.
His eyes met hers in the mirror and the air arced electric, giving his heart a jolt.
In the four days since Heather’s visit, Krystal had all but run at the very sight of him. Onstage, she sang her heart out. The connection she was fighting was there, stronger than ever, binding them together, and driving him crazy because he knew she felt it too. He saw it every time she stared into his eyes and leaned in close to share the microphone. And every time, he wished the song was a little longer. Once the lights dimmed, she was gone. He’d reached for her, called her name, even followed her from the stage, but she’d managed to elude him. It wasn’t like he could stand onstage and demand answers in the middle of a concert. Hell, he had no right to demand a damn thing from her anyway.
It didn’t stop him from wondering what had happened to turn something that felt like the start of something good into the end of something that never was.
Not that he was ready to give up. That wasn’t who he was. He was stubborn.
Emmy Lou waved. “Hey, Calvin. Getting Jace ready for tonight?”
There might be a conversation going on around him, but all Jace saw was Krystal. Standing, staring, on the verge of flight.
“Trying.” Calvin didn’t even try to mask his irritation. “He’s not nearly as easy to work with as you two.”
“Well, you’ve still got…two hours?” Emmy smiled. “Though less is more with Jace, Calvin. He’s more like my daddy when it comes to fashion. Don’t you think?” She turned to Krystal.
“I guess.” Krystal blinked, her gaze darting around the room as she murmured, “Oh…looking for Trav…” Her gaze bounced to his chest. “Sorry.” She grabbed Emmy’s arm and pulled.
“What? Are we leaving?” Emmy asked.
Krystal slammed the door shut and whatever was said next was muffled by the cinder block walls of the stadium.
“Shirt.” Calvin held out the shirt. “I would definitely say this is less than everything else I’ve suggested.”
Jace grabbed the shirt. “Dammit.” He pulled open the door and ran out.
Krystal was a few feet away, leaning against the wall, eyes pressed shut and hands fisted at her sides.
“You need to talk to him,” Emmy was saying.
If the “him” was him, Jace totally agreed. If she didn’t want to talk, maybe she’d listen. He had a lot to say. But the sound of his boots on the concrete hall had her eyes fly open and her feet moving—away from him.
“Wait,” he called out. “Please.”
Emmy Lou smiled. “Hey, Jace.”
Krystal hesitated, then spun on her heel, the tilt of her chin giving him all the warning he needed. “What?” Her gaze slid over his bare chest. Was she blushing? Krystal King? He rattled her and he liked it. He more than liked it. “We’re busy.”
“Krystal.” Emmy Lou sounded more like a disapproving mother than a twin sister.
He couldn’t help but grin. “I know it.”
Krystal shifted from foot to foot, drawing attention to her pink zebra-striped tennis shoes. “Jace—”
“I could use a little coaching.” He paused, including Emmy in the conversation. “Tonight, I’ll be up there alone, and I’ll admit, it’s got my guts all twisted up. It’s one thing singing with someone.” He shrugged. “But solo?” It wasn’t a lie. Eight to ten songs, time depending. Forty minutes of just him. Forty never-ending minutes of him singing on a stage—with no Krystal or the Kings there to make it effortless. He could make a damn fool of himself. “And there’s this.” He held out the shirt, pearl snaps and all.
Krystal looked at the shirt as if seeing it for the first time. “That’s not right—that’s not your…style. Your brand.”
He nodded.
“What was wrong with what you wore to the photo shoot?” Emmy asked, taking the shirt and giving it a once-over. “I mean, this isn’t bad but… Try it on.”
“It’s not good, either,” Krystal finished. “Do what you want. Wear what you want. Make sure it’s something you like because that’s what people will expect to see you in from now on.”
“My ice cream is melting.” Travis pointed at what appeared to be whipped cream piled high on a large ice cream shake.
“Then you’d better answer.” She pushed. “We win as is, or we play through?”
“You win,” Travis grumbled softly.
“Sorry, man, even I’m going to have to ask you to repeat that.” Jace shook his head.
“Really?” Travis sighed. “Fine. You. Win. But we’re kicking your ass next time.”
Krystal flopped into the chair beside Heather, smiling as Clem jumped into her lap and planted two doggy kisses on her chin. “Are you proud of your mommy, Clem? Putting Uncle Trav in his place like that.”
“Give it a rest.” Travis shoved a handful of cheesy fries into his mouth. “Mm, good.”
Jace sat beside Krystal, reaching over to give Clementine a gentle scratch. “Hey, Clem.”
Clem’s little tail went fast motion.
“Clementine,” she pretend whispered. “A lady should pretend to play hard to get.”
Jace shook his head. “I prefer a straightforward woman myself.” His gaze met hers. “No games.”
“Chocolate shake. Your fave.” Heather slid the milkshake toward her brother and yawned. “Do you guys do this sort of thing often?”
Emmy Lou glanced at the clock on the back wall. “Is it really three?”
“I don’t think we’ve ever bowled at three in the morning.” Krystal took a fry from the plate Jace offered. “Thank you.”
“Guess we’re getting special treatment, Heather.” Jace winked at his sister and took a sip of his shake. “Damn, that is good.” He ran his tongue along his lower lip and took another sip. “Want some?” He held the cup out, the straw sliding around, tip toward Krystal.
The idea of putting her lips on the very place his had just been kick-started a pulse in the base of her belly. She shook her head.
“You’re missing out.”
She reconsidered the whole climbing into his lap thing but got ahold of herself before she did something she’d seriously regret.
Jace offered the tall glass to his sister. “Heather?”
They passed the mountain of food around, sharing bites and relaxing. Krystal ate one piece of cheese pizza, a handful of cheesy fries, and the better part of her vanilla milkshake before exhaustion hit her. While Travis had launched into one of his never-ending monologues on the importance of a four-by-four off-roading package for any self-respecting truck owner, she was sliding down in her chair.
She didn’t know when Jace had moved closer. Or when he’d slid his arm around her so she could rest against his shoulder. If Travis hadn’t yelled, “Rematch?” and jolted her awake, she probably would have stayed blissfully asleep. Against Jace. Again.
But this time she only had her arm draped across his waist. She sat up quickly, her head smacking into Jace’s chin with an audible clack.
“Ow,” she hissed, rubbing her head.
“Yeah.” Jace was rubbing his jaw.
“Hard headed. I told you.” Travis laughed.
“Sorry,” she murmured, still rubbing her head.
Jace wiggled his jaw back and forth. “You okay?” His fingers slid through her hair to feel for a knot.
She shivered. He was warm, his touch, his gaze—all of him. She wanted his warmth. Badly. If there hadn’t been an audience, she would have crawled into his lap right then and there. Between the heavy stubble on his jaw, his heavy-lidded gaze, and his scent still clinging to her hair and cheek, she was ready to throw in the towel and surrender to this wildfire hold he had on her.
But they did have an audience. Her siblings. And his little sister. Heather was watching with wide eyes.
She leaned away from him. “I’m fine. Thanks.”
“Travis.” Emmy shook her head, but she was smiling. “That was mean.”
“It’s a brother’s prerogative.” Travis was staring at Krystal, looking like the cat that ate the canary. “More pics to add to my ever-growing collection.”
“Who’s playing?” Emmy asked.
“Go ahead.” Krystal waved her away.
“This is sort of like a dream.” Heather continued to stroke a softly snoring Clementine. “I mean, no one would believe this. This sort of thing doesn’t happen to normal people.” Her brown eyes widened. “Not that you’re not normal. You are way…better than normal. What am I doing? I so need to stop talking… Sorry.”
Krystal smiled, stirring the remains of her perfect vanilla shake with a long red-striped straw. “Don’t be. I get it.” She shrugged. “Honestly? I’d be okay living a normal life.”
Heather frowned. “Why? I mean…why? When you have this?” She pointed at Travis, Jace, and Emmy, staring at the illuminated scoreboard over their lane of the deserted bowling alley. “You guys rented out a bowling alley. After hours. And the kitchen opened.” She nodded at the table, covered in pizza crust, cheesy fries, empty burger wrappers, and a variety of soda and ice cream shake cups.
Krystal felt bad about this. The bowling alley had been closing up when they got there, but Travis had knocked on the door, and, suddenly, the whole place was at their beck and call. Money was a powerful incentive. And the bragging rights. They had taken a handful of pics with the owners—a small thank-you for the immense accommodation considering the late hours and cleanup the owners would be facing after they left. “Travis tends to get his way when he turns on the charm.”
“I don’t think they mind.” Heather smiled at the older couple watching them, smiling, from the counter that ran the length of the bowling alley.
Krystal was too busy watching Jace bend forward to pick up his ball to answer. No doubt about it, tonight had turned her into a bowling fan.
Jace turned, winked at Heather, and smiled at Krystal.
“My brother likes you.” For the first time all night, Heather’s smile wobbled.
Krystal wasn’t sure what was more worrisome: Heather’s observation or her vanishing smile. What was she supposed to say? What was there to say?
“It’s just that, after everything he’s been through, I’m a little overprotective of him.” Heather shrugged. “The television show sort of dragged it all up again. They thought his story made for good drama.” She shook her head. “Like it was a story? And just when he was starting to get over it. Well, maybe not over it—I don’t think he’ll ever be over it.” She blew out a long breath, her brown eyes locking on her brother’s back. “But, you know, it was everywhere.”
Krystal had no idea what she was talking about. Maybe if she’d watched the tapes her father had sent her, she’d know what the show had brought up and what Jace was starting to get over. “You lost me.”
Heather frowned, studying her long and hard before her expression cleared. “You have no idea my brother was married?”
“No.” It made sense. Jace was a good guy; she was beginning to believe that. “What happened?” If the rest of the world knew, it didn’t seem like too invasive a question. Besides, what sort of woman would let Jace Black go?
“They died.” Heather’s voice dropped, wavering.
The air in her lungs grew thick and heavy, and heat crawled up the sides of her neck and into her face. White-hot. All the ice cream and pizza and french fries were a bad idea. She didn’t want to know. She didn’t. “They?” It was a whisper.
“My nephew.” Heather sniffed. “Ben. He was almost two.”
Krystal stood up. She didn’t know where she was going or why, but she had to move. That wasn’t the answer she’d expected. His wife and her boyfriend maybe? That would have been good drama. His wife and son? That wasn’t a story. That was a tragedy. A nightmare. One there was no waking up from. “I’m so sorry, Heather.” Jace had lost a wife and son. Heather had lost a sister-in-law and nephew. “I had no idea.”
Heather nodded, watching her. “I guess I thought the whole world knew by now.”
She shook her head, trying, and failing, not to look Jace’s way. “I feel… I’ve been so hard on him. Teasing him.” Relentlessly. If she wasn’t glaring or throwing verbal grenades his way, there was the other thing—the visceral, near-electric arc connecting the two of them and threatening nuclear meltdown.
“Maybe that’s why he likes you so much. You treat him normally.”
He must have known she was staring at him because he turned to look their way. A quick double take between her and Heather almost had him heading over, but Travis stopped him, pointing at the scoreboard and pulling him back into the game.
“I know you like him too. And I’m glad. I mean, hello, he might be my brother, but I know he’s one of the good guys and he deserves like a really, really good woman. Who will love him more than anyone or anything else, you know?” Heather cleared her throat. “If that’s you, and I think it might be, just know that about him. That he’s been through a lot. Like a lot, a lot. And it wouldn’t be fair for him to go through something like that again. Right?”
Krystal nodded. Heather was a sweet kid but she couldn’t be more wrong. It’s not me. The heat in her face was drying her throat until the urge to cough was overwhelming. She picked up her shake and finished it off, closing her eyes against the telltale sting.
“Come on, Heather,” Emmy Lou called out. “Girls against the boys.”
Heather sat Clementine on the cushion at her side, watching as the dog yawned, stretched, and curled into a ball before dropping back into a deep sleep. She cast a nervous glance at Krystal. “Should I have told you? He really likes you, is all. I mean, really. But, I mean, you’re Krystal King. Famous and beautiful, and well, he’s just my brother. A normal guy who’s had his heart broken.” She paused. “Jace always said your songs said the things he couldn’t, that your words made him hurt a little less. Like, maybe you could understand what he’s been through?”
Krystal couldn’t answer. Not yet. Jace had lost his wife and son. She’d only lost…herself.
“Writing a song about something doesn’t make you an expert on it.” Her father had said it time and again. “Living life—that’s the best way to make your music real.” That was why she didn’t write happy love songs. She didn’t know what that meant, and contrary to what her mother said, lying didn’t come easily to her. All she knew about love was pain and hurt and betrayal and loss.
Jace Black deserved a better song, and a better love, than that.
Heather’s gaze fell from hers. “I definitely should have stopped talking like fifteen minutes ago.”
Anxiety laced the girl’s words, so somehow, Krystal was saying, “I’m glad you told me.” She was. Sort of. Now she needed time to process it. Alone, preferably. “You go play…er, bowl. I’ll be back.” She did her best to smile as she hurried to the restroom.
Washing her hands in ice-cold water helped. But coming eye to eye with her reflection had her gripping the sink.
“It’s not always about you.” It was something her momma had said over and over. “Other people have feelings, too. You need to think about what you say and do, about how your words and actions will affect everyone involved—not just you.”
“You’re right, Momma,” Krystal whispered.
Whatever this was between her and Jace didn’t matter. It wouldn’t last, so why waste time starting something that would wind up causing them both pain? This was about him, about the break he deserved and the life he could have. She wasn’t going to get in his way. The best way to do that was to stay out of his way—better yet, stay away. She and Jace had to spend time together onstage but, from now on, that was the only time they’d spend together.
* * *
“Try this one.” Calvin Laramie had a close-trimmed beard, a brightly colored plaid button-up shirt, and spray-painted-on jeans with shredding on one thigh—something the man hadn’t earned from a day’s hard labor. His jeans were tucked into ostrich boots that cost as much as Jace had spent on his last truck. This was the stylist CiCi King had hired to “give Jace a look that would set him apart.” Luke had about fallen over when he’d heard the news. CiCi, Luke said, was a genius when it came to this industry. She knew the right people and stayed ahead of the trends—hell, she’d started a few. If she thought Calvin was the man to help Jace make his mark, Luke was on board.
But even Luke was eyeing the jacket with suspicion.
Jace stared at the metal-studded black leather jacket the man held out for him to try on. In what world would he wear that? “Pass.”
“I do know what I’m doing.” Calvin shook the jacket. “It’s my business to create a star.”
Jace didn’t answer. He wasn’t one to complain, but the afternoon was wearing on his patience. Leather pants? Damn no. Boots with a silver-tapped four-inch heel? What the hell was that? Jeans with fancy designs and shiny crap? Was CiCi King out to make a fool out of him? Or did she honestly believe this was what was needed to “take him to the next level.”
He was pretty sure spending ten hours a day with his band was the best way to take him to the next level, but he wasn’t going to argue with the woman. The sooner this ordeal was over, the better. He’d probably change back into his own clothes, anyway.
“This?” With a sigh, Calvin pulled a black snap-front button-up from the rack.
It was a traditional black cowboy-cut shirt with pearl snaps. No embroidery. No leather. No shiny beads to make his eyes cross. Still, the glossy sheen on the pearl snaps were not his style.
“Come on, Jace,” Luke encouraged. Poor guy was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He wanted to take care of Jace, but he also wanted to stay in CiCi King’s good graces. Jace was pretty sure a choice was going to have to be made and, possibly, Jace would wind up looking for a new agent.
“Fine.” He tugged his worn grey T-shirt over his head and tossed it onto the dressing room table.
A quick knock and the dressing room door opened.
“Travis?” Krystal leaned in.
His eyes met hers in the mirror and the air arced electric, giving his heart a jolt.
In the four days since Heather’s visit, Krystal had all but run at the very sight of him. Onstage, she sang her heart out. The connection she was fighting was there, stronger than ever, binding them together, and driving him crazy because he knew she felt it too. He saw it every time she stared into his eyes and leaned in close to share the microphone. And every time, he wished the song was a little longer. Once the lights dimmed, she was gone. He’d reached for her, called her name, even followed her from the stage, but she’d managed to elude him. It wasn’t like he could stand onstage and demand answers in the middle of a concert. Hell, he had no right to demand a damn thing from her anyway.
It didn’t stop him from wondering what had happened to turn something that felt like the start of something good into the end of something that never was.
Not that he was ready to give up. That wasn’t who he was. He was stubborn.
Emmy Lou waved. “Hey, Calvin. Getting Jace ready for tonight?”
There might be a conversation going on around him, but all Jace saw was Krystal. Standing, staring, on the verge of flight.
“Trying.” Calvin didn’t even try to mask his irritation. “He’s not nearly as easy to work with as you two.”
“Well, you’ve still got…two hours?” Emmy smiled. “Though less is more with Jace, Calvin. He’s more like my daddy when it comes to fashion. Don’t you think?” She turned to Krystal.
“I guess.” Krystal blinked, her gaze darting around the room as she murmured, “Oh…looking for Trav…” Her gaze bounced to his chest. “Sorry.” She grabbed Emmy’s arm and pulled.
“What? Are we leaving?” Emmy asked.
Krystal slammed the door shut and whatever was said next was muffled by the cinder block walls of the stadium.
“Shirt.” Calvin held out the shirt. “I would definitely say this is less than everything else I’ve suggested.”
Jace grabbed the shirt. “Dammit.” He pulled open the door and ran out.
Krystal was a few feet away, leaning against the wall, eyes pressed shut and hands fisted at her sides.
“You need to talk to him,” Emmy was saying.
If the “him” was him, Jace totally agreed. If she didn’t want to talk, maybe she’d listen. He had a lot to say. But the sound of his boots on the concrete hall had her eyes fly open and her feet moving—away from him.
“Wait,” he called out. “Please.”
Emmy Lou smiled. “Hey, Jace.”
Krystal hesitated, then spun on her heel, the tilt of her chin giving him all the warning he needed. “What?” Her gaze slid over his bare chest. Was she blushing? Krystal King? He rattled her and he liked it. He more than liked it. “We’re busy.”
“Krystal.” Emmy Lou sounded more like a disapproving mother than a twin sister.
He couldn’t help but grin. “I know it.”
Krystal shifted from foot to foot, drawing attention to her pink zebra-striped tennis shoes. “Jace—”
“I could use a little coaching.” He paused, including Emmy in the conversation. “Tonight, I’ll be up there alone, and I’ll admit, it’s got my guts all twisted up. It’s one thing singing with someone.” He shrugged. “But solo?” It wasn’t a lie. Eight to ten songs, time depending. Forty minutes of just him. Forty never-ending minutes of him singing on a stage—with no Krystal or the Kings there to make it effortless. He could make a damn fool of himself. “And there’s this.” He held out the shirt, pearl snaps and all.
Krystal looked at the shirt as if seeing it for the first time. “That’s not right—that’s not your…style. Your brand.”
He nodded.
“What was wrong with what you wore to the photo shoot?” Emmy asked, taking the shirt and giving it a once-over. “I mean, this isn’t bad but… Try it on.”
“It’s not good, either,” Krystal finished. “Do what you want. Wear what you want. Make sure it’s something you like because that’s what people will expect to see you in from now on.”
