Jace, page 18
Her mother smiled. “I thought I’d get the ball rollin’.”
“Food.” Jace held out a large cardboard box of bagels. “And coffee.”
“Are you really okay with this whole switching-places thing?” Travis jumped right back in. “What’s the point, anyway?”
Her father leveled a hard stare at his wife. “CiCi—”
“If I left everything to you, you’d sugarcoat it. They need to know,” her mother interrupted. “About your new album and your song and Jace’s career—she needs to know her little stunt has put us all in a serious predicament.”
“Mrs. King.” Jace stepped forward. “I appreciate your concern, but I feel confident this will all be forgotten in a day or two.”
“Jace, honey, you haven’t been at this all that long.” Her mother smiled. “Hank and I have been doing this since before you were born. There’s so much more going on here than you realize.”
“CiCi.” Her father shook his head. “We’ve got this. Steve is going to take you to the airport. We’ll be in Austin in a few days.”
“I appreciate that, sugar, but I have a stake in this, too. This is my family. My business.” Her mother stood her ground, eyes slightly narrowed—voice tight.
“Fine.” Her father shrugged. “We hammered out the details on the way here. All we need is Krystal on board and we’re good.”
“On board with what?” Travis was slathering cream cheese on a bagel. “An out-of-body experience that made her attack you? She was drunk? Someone slipped something into her water? She fell on you, lips first, and you caught her?”
“We’re a couple and we’re tired of hiding it.” Jace was looking at her. “Out front, in public. It can’t hurt when the single drops. And, when we decide, we’ll break it off.”
“He’ll dump you,” her father said. “So you’re the wronged one—but it’ll be a mutual thing versus what one of you did to the other.”
She looked back and forth between the two of them. “I’m confused. I thought being involved with him was a bad thing.”
“It is, if it’s presented in the wrong light. But you two, bringing your relationship out in the open, all hearts and doves and love songs?” Luke nodded. “You’ll have to really sell this to make it work.”
She frowned. “What does that mean?”
“You’ll have to smile a little more at me. And scowl a little less.” Jace winked, grinning. Because he was enjoying himself. He was getting exactly what he wanted—and loving every minute of it.
It took a lot not to laugh.
“I’m supposed to act like I…I love you?” The words seemed to hang there.
“Shouldn’t be too hard.” Travis took a bite. “I have a whole bunch of pictures you can use.”
“Pictures?” Luke asked.
“Of those two crazy kids.” He shot her a look. “Young and in love.”
“Are you okay with this?” Krystal ignored her brother, knowing how Jace felt about lying.
“Not ten minutes ago you were telling me he’d have a problem lying.” Her mother wasn’t happy. “Don’t you think this seems a little risky?”
Her father was studying the two of them. “No.”
“Wheelhouse is okay with this?” Her mother’s eyes narrowed.
He nodded.
“Well, I have a serious problem with this.” Her mother grabbed her purse. “It’s going to backfire. When it does, you remember I told you so. Steve.” She didn’t stop to give goodbye hugs and kisses as she climbed down the bus steps and out onto the concrete parking lot.
“I’ll be back.” Steve trailed behind her.
“You’re sure about this?” Emmy asked Krystal, beyond concerned. “You’ve never been the…hearts and doves and love songs type.”
As far as Krystal knew, she hadn’t agreed to a thing. Yet.
“What’s the problem?” Travis asked. “You two get to keep doing what you’re doing anyway—only you don’t have to hide it anymore.”
Which was exactly why Jace looked like the cat that ate the canary.
“Good.” Her father glanced at his watch. “The Good Morning USA people should be here in about fifteen minutes, so get yourselves pulled together.”
“What?” This was all happening a little too fast. “Now?”
“Before this story gets too much of the wrong kind of traction.” Luke glanced at his watch. “The sooner the better.”
“Come on.” Emmy Lou pulled Krystal up. “You need to get dressed.”
“Not too much.” Her daddy smiled. “This doesn’t need to look like a show. This needs to look real.”
But she saw the concern on her father’s face. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Wheelhouse isn’t fine with it.” Her father pulled her up from her chair. “No one likes lying, baby girl. You do this, you give it your all. If fans find out, it’d be a bad thing.”
“Do you really have a new album in the works?” she asked.
He shrugged. “We’ll see how it goes.”
Which was the only answer she was going to get.
Fifteen minutes later, she and Jace sat on the stage, facing Molly Harper and her crew from Good Morning USA.
The makeup and wardrobe people had done their best to make her appear soft and sweet without making the Emmy Lou resemblance too strong. Black lace sleeveless top, distressed jeans, and her trademark sparkling boots. Her hair was brushed soft and free, glossy lips, not red. She wore crystal-covered hoops, a crystal heart pendant, and a leather and crystal wrist cuff so there was no confusion about who she was. Crystals were her thing.
Jace? He was in black from head to toe and looked good enough to eat. His long legs were encased in painted-on black jeans and his hat sat at just the right angle. She eyed the black snap-front shirt with interest and caught him smiling at her.
“I remembered you like snaps.” He leaned her way, sliding his chair as close to hers as possible and whispering, “Nervous?”
She nodded, taking the hand he offered her. Couples held hands. If her daddy thought this was the way to handle it, she’d do it. They were a couple. And, dammit, holding his hand helped. “You’re enjoying this too much.”
He grinned, eyebrows raised. “So?”
She rolled her eyes, too tense to come up with a quick retort.
“I’ve got an idea.” His thumb trailed across the back of her hand.
“What?” she whispered back.
His hand was soft against her cheek, almost as soft as the brush of his lips against hers. He lingered, pressing another kiss—and another—until she was leaning into him.
“I hate to interrupt.” Molly laughed. “We’re on in about thirty seconds.”
Jace tucked her arm through his, his fingers threading with hers. She could do this. They could do this. All she had to do was act like she…loved him. Even though she had no idea what being in love was like. She’d written more than a dozen songs about it—might as well tap into them now.
Someone counted down from ten.
“Good morning. Last night a very interesting video was leaked from the Three Kings Concert here in San Francisco.” Molly smiled at the camera. “I’m here, live, to set the record straight with country music sensation Krystal King and heartthrob Jace Black.”
Krystal was so nervous she almost giggled.
“You two look pretty close,” Molly began. “Does that mean the video was, in fact, of you two?”
Jace looked at her.
She was still in danger of dissolving into giggles. What was wrong with her?
“It’s true.” He nodded. “We’ve been trying to keep it quiet but, well, you can’t fight something like this.” His light brown eyes met hers.
Her heart slammed into her chest. “Why would you want to?” she asked softly. It was the question she asked herself every time he looked her way.
He smiled that bone-melting smile. “Exactly.”
“I guess, after your recent breakup, there were some concerns?” Molly asked her.
“Yes.” Krystal forced herself to look at Molly. “You might have heard that things didn’t end well with Mickey.” She smiled. “But, honestly, Mickey and I only went on four dates, and I think people wanted us to be a couple, so they took it hard when we weren’t a good fit.”
“Mickey was one of those people,” Jace said.
“You were quick to defend Krystal on Guy James’s late-night show.” She paused. “Are you saying he’s lied about the breakup?”
Jace nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
Krystal squeezed his hand. “I’d rather not talk about Mickey, if that’s okay?”
Jace tugged her hand into his lap. “Here’s the thing about Krystal. She doesn’t talk about people. Good or bad, she’s private. It’s one of the things I respect about her. So, yeah, I get a little defensive because he’s made stuff up, and since she won’t lower herself to his level, people assume he’s telling the truth.”
Molly appeared to be listening sincerely. “Why do you think Mickey Graham has said some of the things he’s said? He’s painted a pretty unflattering picture of you, Krystal.”
Krystal nodded. “I know. I think, sometimes, it’s easier to blame someone else when things don’t work out. Instead of owning your part in it.” Which was true. It was also true that Mickey Graham was just an attention-seeking bastard, but she’d keep that part to herself.
Jace pressed a kiss against the back of her hand. It would be easy to fall in love with Jace Black, if she were the sort of person who could do that.
“Viewers, I wish you could have seen them before the cameras were rolling. These two can hardly keep their hands off each other.” Molly shook her head, smiling. “But, you know, a lot of your fans are worried about you, Jace.” Krystal knew what was coming. “Most of the country was devastated when they heard your story. Your wife, Nikki, and your son, Ben. It must be hard to move on.”
Jace held Krystal’s hand in both of his, clearing his throat. “Yes, ma’am.”
Her heart ached for him. “He has this way of looking at things. Finding the best. Kind and…supportive. He’s a gentleman,” Krystal said. “I tease him a little—Gentleman Jace—because I’ve never met anyone like him.” More truths. Maybe this wouldn’t be that hard after all.
“When we met, I felt like I knew her. I could probably recite most of the songs she’s written—they helped me get through losing my grandmother. And my wife and son.” He shook his head. “Singing with her is special.”
“I’ve heard the two of you.” Molly nodded. “Your chemistry comes through. Why do you think you two clicked, Krystal?”
“Well…” She took a deep breath. “He wouldn’t give up, for one thing. I was worried, like his fans, about hurting him. I mean, he’s him. He has the biggest heart.” She looked at their joined hands. “He is the only person who sees me for who I am and believes in me.”
“He won you over?” Molly asked.
Krystal nodded, wishing this interview were over. It was a little too honest, felt a little too real. Because everything she was saying and feeling was real.
“Jace, are you excited to be performing at the Austin Country Music Festival? This is a pretty big deal for you.”
He nodded.
“Being onstage with some of country music’s biggest names. You’ll be singing your duet, won’t you?”
Which was news to her. She’d been planning on ducking out of the event. An impossibility if they were singing together.
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered.
“It has to be overwhelming, coming face-to-face with so many music legends.”
“Having coffee and donuts with Hank King?” He shook his head. “Kissing her?” He chuckled. “Not sure I’ll ever get used to it.”
He was so much better at this than she was. More comfortable.
“There’s a lot of buzz about Tiger Whitman’s award, a man so instrumental in so many performers’ lives.” She paused. “What do you think of his new protégé, Becca Sinclair? People are talking about how talented she is, for someone so young. Have you heard her?”
Krystal spent most of the time trying not to think about Tig. And, for a while, he’d laid low. But she’d never thought about this. He was mentoring a new singer? Her blood went cold. For a few seconds, her brain shut down. No hearing or thinking, just a terrible heavy coldness sinking into her bones. She’d let this happen.
“What do you think?” Jace asked, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
She blinked. Jace’s kiss helped pull her back to the present.
“We’d love to hear part of the single,” Molly said.
“Sure.” She forced a smile, doing her best not to panic when Jace let go of her hand. She had to fight against the panic, the crushing weight against her chest, until they weren’t in front of the cameras.
Jace was handed his guitar.
He turned his chair to face her. “Good?” He knew something was up.
She nodded.
They sang the first verse through, singing the chorus twice before Molly started clapping.
“I have to say, I wish you both the very best. It’s nice to see the two of you so happy.” She shook their hands. “I have a feeling you guys have a bona fide hit on your hands.”
A few seconds later, the cameras cut, and they stood to have their mics removed.
“Thanks for inviting me,” Molly said. “I was sure it was all a stunt until I saw you two together. It’s refreshing, honestly. I hope it all works out.”
Krystal let Jace do the talking, doing her best to nod or smile or act like she was listening. When her father joined them—after offering Molly tickets to the evening’s show and escorting her and her crew from the coliseum—Krystal wanted to go, but her feet were too leaden to move.
“What’s up?” Jace smoothed her hair from her shoulders.
She stared up at him.
“What’s wrong?” His hands caught hers. “Your hands are like ice, Krystal.”
“Nothing.” Everything. She was pretending to be a normal woman in a normal relationship—neither of which was true. Her personal nightmare had appeared again, but this time, he was targeting someone else. “We did good, right?” she asked, trying to hold it together, but her mind wouldn’t stop. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe he’d changed? There was no guarantee he’d try that again. He’d never touched Emmy Lou. It was possible he’d learned his lesson, right?
Jace was rubbing her hands. “You don’t need to worry.”
“Good.” She nodded.
“You ready?” It was her father, his warm arm around her shoulders. “Jace, let’s give her a hand.”
Something about his touch hit a nerve. Because he knew—she could see it on his face. He was thinking what she was thinking. “Daddy.” She stared up at him, nausea and regret choking her.
“I know.” His jaw set. “Come on, now. Let’s get you some water.”
Maybe it was the sympathy on her father’s face. Maybe it was Jace’s confusion. Maybe it was the self-loathing that she’d never thought about her choices beyond her family. Whatever the cause, a surge of anger had her shaking them off. “I’m fine.” She sighed, forcing a smile. “I’m fine.” It was a lie; chances were they both knew it. But she didn’t care. She had to get to her bus. Somewhere alone, where she could find the strength to do what needed to be done—confront her fears.
* * *
Jace sat in the window seat of the bus, the fluorescent streetlights casting flashing patches of light as they passed. Tomorrow, they’d reach Austin and a few days of rest. Heather would be flying in for the weekend; he’d already got a weekend pass to ACMF for her. She was more excited to see the Kings again than the festival—but he figured that would change when she saw the lineup.
She was thrilled about his relationship with Krystal.
Krystal.
Since this morning, he’d been trying to figure out the common denominator between the back-and-forth about ACMF and Krystal’s fast escape after the interview. CiCi had never come right out with it, but he’d filled in the blanks. Tig Whitman. Once Travis had crashed in the recliner and Hank had taken one of the bunks in the back of the bus, he’d been scrolling through articles that mentioned Tiger Whitman. Or Uncle Tig, to his friends.
The man was a legend.
He was a big guy. Barrel-chested with a great smile. Balding on top. Fond of cigars and vintage cars. There were plenty of pictures of the man. The pictures of him with celebrities were even more impressive. He seemed to know just about everyone. He had been especially close to the Kings—until ten years ago. He was the one who’d discovered Hank in a little honky-tonk on the Texas/Oklahoma border.
There were pictures of him at concerts. Pictures of him with the King kids. Pictures of him shaking hands with the heads of Wheelhouse Records on the day the King children became the Three Kings. And pictures of him with Hank when he won one of his many awards.
He’d been a fixture in their home—downright chummy with CiCi. And then he wasn’t.
The bus slowed and Jace peered out at the brightly illuminated gas station.
“We stopping?” Travis tipped his hat back.
“Looks like it.” Jace powered off the tablet and set it aside.
Travis stood and stretched. “Where are we?”
“Middle of nowhere.” Jace ran a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes. “Guess we’re getting gas.”
“I could stretch my legs.” Travis rolled his head. “Get some snacks. You in?”
Jace nodded.
The bus parked and he and Travis climbed down. Other than a few big rig trucks and one church youth bus, there were only a handful of cars.
“Guess the girls are sleeping.” Travis nodded. Their bus was here, their driver was pumping gas, but no sign of Emmy Lou or Krystal.
Inside, Jace hunted down some Red Vines, sour gummy bears, a box of chocolate-caramel chews, and two cherry colas. And a bag of dog treats. If she was asleep, he’d leave it for her to find in the morning.
“Food.” Jace held out a large cardboard box of bagels. “And coffee.”
“Are you really okay with this whole switching-places thing?” Travis jumped right back in. “What’s the point, anyway?”
Her father leveled a hard stare at his wife. “CiCi—”
“If I left everything to you, you’d sugarcoat it. They need to know,” her mother interrupted. “About your new album and your song and Jace’s career—she needs to know her little stunt has put us all in a serious predicament.”
“Mrs. King.” Jace stepped forward. “I appreciate your concern, but I feel confident this will all be forgotten in a day or two.”
“Jace, honey, you haven’t been at this all that long.” Her mother smiled. “Hank and I have been doing this since before you were born. There’s so much more going on here than you realize.”
“CiCi.” Her father shook his head. “We’ve got this. Steve is going to take you to the airport. We’ll be in Austin in a few days.”
“I appreciate that, sugar, but I have a stake in this, too. This is my family. My business.” Her mother stood her ground, eyes slightly narrowed—voice tight.
“Fine.” Her father shrugged. “We hammered out the details on the way here. All we need is Krystal on board and we’re good.”
“On board with what?” Travis was slathering cream cheese on a bagel. “An out-of-body experience that made her attack you? She was drunk? Someone slipped something into her water? She fell on you, lips first, and you caught her?”
“We’re a couple and we’re tired of hiding it.” Jace was looking at her. “Out front, in public. It can’t hurt when the single drops. And, when we decide, we’ll break it off.”
“He’ll dump you,” her father said. “So you’re the wronged one—but it’ll be a mutual thing versus what one of you did to the other.”
She looked back and forth between the two of them. “I’m confused. I thought being involved with him was a bad thing.”
“It is, if it’s presented in the wrong light. But you two, bringing your relationship out in the open, all hearts and doves and love songs?” Luke nodded. “You’ll have to really sell this to make it work.”
She frowned. “What does that mean?”
“You’ll have to smile a little more at me. And scowl a little less.” Jace winked, grinning. Because he was enjoying himself. He was getting exactly what he wanted—and loving every minute of it.
It took a lot not to laugh.
“I’m supposed to act like I…I love you?” The words seemed to hang there.
“Shouldn’t be too hard.” Travis took a bite. “I have a whole bunch of pictures you can use.”
“Pictures?” Luke asked.
“Of those two crazy kids.” He shot her a look. “Young and in love.”
“Are you okay with this?” Krystal ignored her brother, knowing how Jace felt about lying.
“Not ten minutes ago you were telling me he’d have a problem lying.” Her mother wasn’t happy. “Don’t you think this seems a little risky?”
Her father was studying the two of them. “No.”
“Wheelhouse is okay with this?” Her mother’s eyes narrowed.
He nodded.
“Well, I have a serious problem with this.” Her mother grabbed her purse. “It’s going to backfire. When it does, you remember I told you so. Steve.” She didn’t stop to give goodbye hugs and kisses as she climbed down the bus steps and out onto the concrete parking lot.
“I’ll be back.” Steve trailed behind her.
“You’re sure about this?” Emmy asked Krystal, beyond concerned. “You’ve never been the…hearts and doves and love songs type.”
As far as Krystal knew, she hadn’t agreed to a thing. Yet.
“What’s the problem?” Travis asked. “You two get to keep doing what you’re doing anyway—only you don’t have to hide it anymore.”
Which was exactly why Jace looked like the cat that ate the canary.
“Good.” Her father glanced at his watch. “The Good Morning USA people should be here in about fifteen minutes, so get yourselves pulled together.”
“What?” This was all happening a little too fast. “Now?”
“Before this story gets too much of the wrong kind of traction.” Luke glanced at his watch. “The sooner the better.”
“Come on.” Emmy Lou pulled Krystal up. “You need to get dressed.”
“Not too much.” Her daddy smiled. “This doesn’t need to look like a show. This needs to look real.”
But she saw the concern on her father’s face. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Wheelhouse isn’t fine with it.” Her father pulled her up from her chair. “No one likes lying, baby girl. You do this, you give it your all. If fans find out, it’d be a bad thing.”
“Do you really have a new album in the works?” she asked.
He shrugged. “We’ll see how it goes.”
Which was the only answer she was going to get.
Fifteen minutes later, she and Jace sat on the stage, facing Molly Harper and her crew from Good Morning USA.
The makeup and wardrobe people had done their best to make her appear soft and sweet without making the Emmy Lou resemblance too strong. Black lace sleeveless top, distressed jeans, and her trademark sparkling boots. Her hair was brushed soft and free, glossy lips, not red. She wore crystal-covered hoops, a crystal heart pendant, and a leather and crystal wrist cuff so there was no confusion about who she was. Crystals were her thing.
Jace? He was in black from head to toe and looked good enough to eat. His long legs were encased in painted-on black jeans and his hat sat at just the right angle. She eyed the black snap-front shirt with interest and caught him smiling at her.
“I remembered you like snaps.” He leaned her way, sliding his chair as close to hers as possible and whispering, “Nervous?”
She nodded, taking the hand he offered her. Couples held hands. If her daddy thought this was the way to handle it, she’d do it. They were a couple. And, dammit, holding his hand helped. “You’re enjoying this too much.”
He grinned, eyebrows raised. “So?”
She rolled her eyes, too tense to come up with a quick retort.
“I’ve got an idea.” His thumb trailed across the back of her hand.
“What?” she whispered back.
His hand was soft against her cheek, almost as soft as the brush of his lips against hers. He lingered, pressing another kiss—and another—until she was leaning into him.
“I hate to interrupt.” Molly laughed. “We’re on in about thirty seconds.”
Jace tucked her arm through his, his fingers threading with hers. She could do this. They could do this. All she had to do was act like she…loved him. Even though she had no idea what being in love was like. She’d written more than a dozen songs about it—might as well tap into them now.
Someone counted down from ten.
“Good morning. Last night a very interesting video was leaked from the Three Kings Concert here in San Francisco.” Molly smiled at the camera. “I’m here, live, to set the record straight with country music sensation Krystal King and heartthrob Jace Black.”
Krystal was so nervous she almost giggled.
“You two look pretty close,” Molly began. “Does that mean the video was, in fact, of you two?”
Jace looked at her.
She was still in danger of dissolving into giggles. What was wrong with her?
“It’s true.” He nodded. “We’ve been trying to keep it quiet but, well, you can’t fight something like this.” His light brown eyes met hers.
Her heart slammed into her chest. “Why would you want to?” she asked softly. It was the question she asked herself every time he looked her way.
He smiled that bone-melting smile. “Exactly.”
“I guess, after your recent breakup, there were some concerns?” Molly asked her.
“Yes.” Krystal forced herself to look at Molly. “You might have heard that things didn’t end well with Mickey.” She smiled. “But, honestly, Mickey and I only went on four dates, and I think people wanted us to be a couple, so they took it hard when we weren’t a good fit.”
“Mickey was one of those people,” Jace said.
“You were quick to defend Krystal on Guy James’s late-night show.” She paused. “Are you saying he’s lied about the breakup?”
Jace nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
Krystal squeezed his hand. “I’d rather not talk about Mickey, if that’s okay?”
Jace tugged her hand into his lap. “Here’s the thing about Krystal. She doesn’t talk about people. Good or bad, she’s private. It’s one of the things I respect about her. So, yeah, I get a little defensive because he’s made stuff up, and since she won’t lower herself to his level, people assume he’s telling the truth.”
Molly appeared to be listening sincerely. “Why do you think Mickey Graham has said some of the things he’s said? He’s painted a pretty unflattering picture of you, Krystal.”
Krystal nodded. “I know. I think, sometimes, it’s easier to blame someone else when things don’t work out. Instead of owning your part in it.” Which was true. It was also true that Mickey Graham was just an attention-seeking bastard, but she’d keep that part to herself.
Jace pressed a kiss against the back of her hand. It would be easy to fall in love with Jace Black, if she were the sort of person who could do that.
“Viewers, I wish you could have seen them before the cameras were rolling. These two can hardly keep their hands off each other.” Molly shook her head, smiling. “But, you know, a lot of your fans are worried about you, Jace.” Krystal knew what was coming. “Most of the country was devastated when they heard your story. Your wife, Nikki, and your son, Ben. It must be hard to move on.”
Jace held Krystal’s hand in both of his, clearing his throat. “Yes, ma’am.”
Her heart ached for him. “He has this way of looking at things. Finding the best. Kind and…supportive. He’s a gentleman,” Krystal said. “I tease him a little—Gentleman Jace—because I’ve never met anyone like him.” More truths. Maybe this wouldn’t be that hard after all.
“When we met, I felt like I knew her. I could probably recite most of the songs she’s written—they helped me get through losing my grandmother. And my wife and son.” He shook his head. “Singing with her is special.”
“I’ve heard the two of you.” Molly nodded. “Your chemistry comes through. Why do you think you two clicked, Krystal?”
“Well…” She took a deep breath. “He wouldn’t give up, for one thing. I was worried, like his fans, about hurting him. I mean, he’s him. He has the biggest heart.” She looked at their joined hands. “He is the only person who sees me for who I am and believes in me.”
“He won you over?” Molly asked.
Krystal nodded, wishing this interview were over. It was a little too honest, felt a little too real. Because everything she was saying and feeling was real.
“Jace, are you excited to be performing at the Austin Country Music Festival? This is a pretty big deal for you.”
He nodded.
“Being onstage with some of country music’s biggest names. You’ll be singing your duet, won’t you?”
Which was news to her. She’d been planning on ducking out of the event. An impossibility if they were singing together.
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered.
“It has to be overwhelming, coming face-to-face with so many music legends.”
“Having coffee and donuts with Hank King?” He shook his head. “Kissing her?” He chuckled. “Not sure I’ll ever get used to it.”
He was so much better at this than she was. More comfortable.
“There’s a lot of buzz about Tiger Whitman’s award, a man so instrumental in so many performers’ lives.” She paused. “What do you think of his new protégé, Becca Sinclair? People are talking about how talented she is, for someone so young. Have you heard her?”
Krystal spent most of the time trying not to think about Tig. And, for a while, he’d laid low. But she’d never thought about this. He was mentoring a new singer? Her blood went cold. For a few seconds, her brain shut down. No hearing or thinking, just a terrible heavy coldness sinking into her bones. She’d let this happen.
“What do you think?” Jace asked, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
She blinked. Jace’s kiss helped pull her back to the present.
“We’d love to hear part of the single,” Molly said.
“Sure.” She forced a smile, doing her best not to panic when Jace let go of her hand. She had to fight against the panic, the crushing weight against her chest, until they weren’t in front of the cameras.
Jace was handed his guitar.
He turned his chair to face her. “Good?” He knew something was up.
She nodded.
They sang the first verse through, singing the chorus twice before Molly started clapping.
“I have to say, I wish you both the very best. It’s nice to see the two of you so happy.” She shook their hands. “I have a feeling you guys have a bona fide hit on your hands.”
A few seconds later, the cameras cut, and they stood to have their mics removed.
“Thanks for inviting me,” Molly said. “I was sure it was all a stunt until I saw you two together. It’s refreshing, honestly. I hope it all works out.”
Krystal let Jace do the talking, doing her best to nod or smile or act like she was listening. When her father joined them—after offering Molly tickets to the evening’s show and escorting her and her crew from the coliseum—Krystal wanted to go, but her feet were too leaden to move.
“What’s up?” Jace smoothed her hair from her shoulders.
She stared up at him.
“What’s wrong?” His hands caught hers. “Your hands are like ice, Krystal.”
“Nothing.” Everything. She was pretending to be a normal woman in a normal relationship—neither of which was true. Her personal nightmare had appeared again, but this time, he was targeting someone else. “We did good, right?” she asked, trying to hold it together, but her mind wouldn’t stop. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe he’d changed? There was no guarantee he’d try that again. He’d never touched Emmy Lou. It was possible he’d learned his lesson, right?
Jace was rubbing her hands. “You don’t need to worry.”
“Good.” She nodded.
“You ready?” It was her father, his warm arm around her shoulders. “Jace, let’s give her a hand.”
Something about his touch hit a nerve. Because he knew—she could see it on his face. He was thinking what she was thinking. “Daddy.” She stared up at him, nausea and regret choking her.
“I know.” His jaw set. “Come on, now. Let’s get you some water.”
Maybe it was the sympathy on her father’s face. Maybe it was Jace’s confusion. Maybe it was the self-loathing that she’d never thought about her choices beyond her family. Whatever the cause, a surge of anger had her shaking them off. “I’m fine.” She sighed, forcing a smile. “I’m fine.” It was a lie; chances were they both knew it. But she didn’t care. She had to get to her bus. Somewhere alone, where she could find the strength to do what needed to be done—confront her fears.
* * *
Jace sat in the window seat of the bus, the fluorescent streetlights casting flashing patches of light as they passed. Tomorrow, they’d reach Austin and a few days of rest. Heather would be flying in for the weekend; he’d already got a weekend pass to ACMF for her. She was more excited to see the Kings again than the festival—but he figured that would change when she saw the lineup.
She was thrilled about his relationship with Krystal.
Krystal.
Since this morning, he’d been trying to figure out the common denominator between the back-and-forth about ACMF and Krystal’s fast escape after the interview. CiCi had never come right out with it, but he’d filled in the blanks. Tig Whitman. Once Travis had crashed in the recliner and Hank had taken one of the bunks in the back of the bus, he’d been scrolling through articles that mentioned Tiger Whitman. Or Uncle Tig, to his friends.
The man was a legend.
He was a big guy. Barrel-chested with a great smile. Balding on top. Fond of cigars and vintage cars. There were plenty of pictures of the man. The pictures of him with celebrities were even more impressive. He seemed to know just about everyone. He had been especially close to the Kings—until ten years ago. He was the one who’d discovered Hank in a little honky-tonk on the Texas/Oklahoma border.
There were pictures of him at concerts. Pictures of him with the King kids. Pictures of him shaking hands with the heads of Wheelhouse Records on the day the King children became the Three Kings. And pictures of him with Hank when he won one of his many awards.
He’d been a fixture in their home—downright chummy with CiCi. And then he wasn’t.
The bus slowed and Jace peered out at the brightly illuminated gas station.
“We stopping?” Travis tipped his hat back.
“Looks like it.” Jace powered off the tablet and set it aside.
Travis stood and stretched. “Where are we?”
“Middle of nowhere.” Jace ran a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes. “Guess we’re getting gas.”
“I could stretch my legs.” Travis rolled his head. “Get some snacks. You in?”
Jace nodded.
The bus parked and he and Travis climbed down. Other than a few big rig trucks and one church youth bus, there were only a handful of cars.
“Guess the girls are sleeping.” Travis nodded. Their bus was here, their driver was pumping gas, but no sign of Emmy Lou or Krystal.
Inside, Jace hunted down some Red Vines, sour gummy bears, a box of chocolate-caramel chews, and two cherry colas. And a bag of dog treats. If she was asleep, he’d leave it for her to find in the morning.
