Jace, page 31
“Brock is divorced.”
Krystal stopped cracking eggs. “Oh.” She didn’t know what else to say. “Are we happy?”
“Of course I’m not happy.” She shook her head. “I want him to be happy. It didn’t work out, but at least he tried. You and Jace—”
“Em, you can’t honestly believe I could make him happy? I’m me. A mess.” Krystal sucked in a long, ragged breath. “I’m trying to come to terms with the fact that tomorrow might be the last time I ever really sing with him. That, after tomorrow, I won’t see him or his tattoos or his smile or get comfort from him just being…there. And you know what? I hate it. I hate that I feel all these things because I know…I know…”
“What?” Emmy pushed back.
“That it can’t be real.” She slapped the wooden spatula against the bowl, her frustration mounting.
“Why?” Jace’s voice. Because Jace was behind her. In the kitchen. Listening.
She froze, staring at her sister in horror. “Emmy Lou King,” she hissed.
Emmy’s little shrug was not in the least bit remorseful. “You love me.” She picked up her mug and practically ran from the kitchen.
Krystal risked a glance Jace’s way. “What are you doing here?”
“Your dad invited me.” His gaze never left her face, the muscle in his jaw flexed tight. “You keep holding out on me.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Holding out on us.”
“There is no us.” Her heart. Her damn, traitorous heart that loved him. Only him. All of him. There was no doubt. No hesitation. Only the inescapable acceptance of the truth. She loved him. No no no. This couldn’t happen. She couldn’t let this happen. “You’re you, Jace. I’m me. With everything my…stuff put us through, it felt real.” She swallowed. “Maybe too real?”
He shook his head and faced her. He was pissed. Arms crossed. Leaning against the counter. His head cocked at an angle. And his jaw clenching, the muscle pulled taut. “Because it is real, Krystal.”
Something in his tone tipped her off. “Jace…don’t do this.” She wouldn’t stop shaking her head. “We’re going to Australia. You’ve got your new tour. There’s no point. Don’t say something you can’t take back. Don’t say something you can’t mean.”
As much as she wanted to forget everything about the night of her attack, she couldn’t. Tig’s words were indelibly etched into her heart.
“That’s what scares you?” He closed the distance between them, staring down at her. “That I love you? You think it doesn’t scare the shit out of me?” He swallowed. “It does. But I do. Love you.”
He’d said it. The words were out and she was staring at him like an idiot. “No. No. You can’t.”
His brow rose. “I can.” He brushed a curl from her shoulder. “You can’t do a thing to stop me.”
She pressed a hand to his chest, frustrated. “Jace.” She broke off, pressing again. Why had he said it?
“I get you’ve been hurt. But I won’t hurt you.”
“I’ll hurt you.” Her voice shook. “My whole life, I’ve wound up hurting those I care about. You’ve already had your heart ripped out. Now you want me to believe that three words can make everything better?”
“If you let them. If you believe in what they mean.” He shook his head. “I see you. And I love what I see.” His fingers stroked along her cheek. “Don’t let fear stop this. You’re this brave, strong woman. Be brave for me.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it, pushing against his chest again. “I don’t know if I can.” The hurt on his face pushed her from the kitchen, down the hall, to the safety of her bedroom, mumbling something about answering some letters.
She waved away the call to dinner and Emmy’s invitation to come watch a movie. She couldn’t face him, couldn’t stand the hope and longing his words stirred.
About midnight, doubt kicked in. And regret. What if she was wrong? What if he really did love her? And his devotion wasn’t due to some overdeveloped sense of honor but honest-to-goodness love? How could someone like Jace love someone like her?
At two, she stopped pacing her room and went back to answering letters. If she couldn’t sleep, she’d do something useful. Some were fan letters. Others were long letters that had her sobbing.
“Krystal?” Her daddy knocked on the door. “Can I come in?”
“Yes.”
He surveyed the mass of letters all over her bed. “I figured you were avoiding things.” He sighed, holding out a plate. “Strawberry shortcake.”
Her stomach growled.
He chuckled and sat on the edge of the bed.
While she devoured her cake, he read over the cards.
“What do you say to them?” he asked, setting a card aside. “How do you even know what to say?”
She scraped the frosting from her plate. “I don’t have the answers, I start with that. But…” She set the plate down. “Some still feel like their attacker controls them, even months or years afterward. For those, I tell them living a full life, without fear, taking chances, is the only way to move on.” She shuffled through the letters. “Others have a hard time taking compliments, that it’s easier to believe the negative things—it makes what happened more logical. But listening to the people who really love you makes more sense that believing the person who hurt you.” She shrugged. “Like I said, I’m no expert.”
He smiled. “Sounds like you have a pretty good understanding of what you’re talking about.”
“Dinner go okay?”
“You were missed.” He nodded. “Jace and Emmy made the cake for you. His idea.”
She shook her head. “He’s…stubborn.”
“You wouldn’t know a thing about that.” He chuckled. “He loves you, I know that much.”
She kept right on shaking her head. “He can’t.”
“Krystal. You’re giving this wonderful advice to strangers. Telling them to live without fear, to take chances, to listen to the people who really love them—not the ones who hurt you.” He shook his head. “Why aren’t you doing those things? You write the most beautiful songs and I love hearing them. As your daddy, I’d rather you were living the most beautiful life—so I could see you truly happy.” He took her plate.
“I love you, Daddy.” She smiled. “You totally just pulled a Sixteen Candles move on me.”
“Sixteen Candles?” He paused by the door, thinking.
“You know, the scene in the movie where the father gives her the pep talk and makes it better?”
“Oh, right.” He smiled. “Well, damn, I did good. Get some rest, baby girl.”
“Thanks for the cake.” As soon as the door closed, she flopped back on the bed.
Clementine stirred from her bed.
“I can’t believe I’m taking relationship advice from my father.” She stared up at the ceiling. “The thing is, Clem, he’s right.” She covered her face with her hands. “I don’t want to lose him. I love him. And…” She swallowed, resisting the urge to squash all the happy. Instead, she let the joy bubble up and flow freely. “He loves me.” And it felt incredible.
* * *
Jace and Luke stood on the side of the stage, watching the Three Kings do their thing. He and Krystal’s duet was up next. After last night, he didn’t know what sort of reception he was going to get. He’d scared the crap out of her last night—but he didn’t regret it. He’d regret not telling her more. Life was too short to live with regrets.
“I still think you’re making a mistake.” Luke scrolled through the messages on his phone.
“I know.” Jace smiled. “I’m in a good place here. I’m happy.”
Luke looked at him then. “Well, man, that’s what life is about, right?” He smiled. “It’s not like you’re going back to the oilfields.”
Jace chuckled. “I am thankful for that.”
Emmy and Travis came offstage.
“You’re up.” Travis nodded. “She’s on high-energy mode.”
Emmy was all smiles.
“I don’t know what that means.” Jace gave them an odd look and carried his guitar out and onto the stage.
The lights came up and Krystal started playing, leaving him confused. He sat on his stool, the melody familiar but not “Ashes of My Heart.”
“Before we sing our song, there’s something I need to ask Jace.” She stared out over the audience. “If y’all are all right with that?”
He smiled at the roar of approval.
“That okay with you?” she asked.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes, ma’am.”
The crowd went crazy.
“I was hoping you’d say that. I know you said it wasn’t ready but…well, it really is. And I am. So, here it goes.” She faced him, took a deep breath, and sang, “I say my heart is hard and there’s no hope. My world split wide and I can’t cope. Words are empty and nothing more. Trying to find strength is a daily chore.”
He stared, blindsided. His words, her words. She knew—knew this was them. Knew what she was doing. Scared or not, she was putting herself out there. Being brave for him. He swallowed hard against the lump lodged in his throat.
“You say—”
He kissed her, surprising everyone—including himself. But he recovered and picked up where she left off. “I say stop fighting to stand alone,” he sang, smoothing the hair from her cheek. “Words can heal, hear my song. Don’t let the world defeat you. Don’t lock your heart away. See me standing here and let me love you.”
Tears were streaming down her face as the chorus spilled out of them both.
“Through the dark of night. Through the light of day, I will love your troubles away. When you’re cold and you’ve lost your way, I will love you back home to stay. See me standing here and let me love you.”
She pressed her fingers to his lips and sang the rest alone. “Because I do. I love you.”
He closed his eyes, smiling. “It’s about time.”
The audience laughed.
He didn’t care—he was kissing her again. He knew they had a show to do; no one seemed to mind their detour. Cameras were flashing; there were plenty of whistles.
“We’ve got to finish the set.” She was breathless.
He nodded.
After that, “Ashes of My Heart” was a blur. All he could think about was getting her backstage, alone. They finished the song, Krystal hopped into his lap, and the lights went down with her twined around him.
“This needs to be the fastest concert in history,” she said against his lips. “Wait for me?”
“I’m not going anywhere, Krystal.” He kissed her nose. “Except Australia. With you.” He dropped another kiss on her lips and left the stage before the lights went back up.
“Well, that got people talking.” Luke was laughing. “What the hell was that?”
Jace smiled. The best damn night of his life.
By the time Krystal burst into her dressing room, he’d been pacing for an hour.
“Hi.” She closed the door, leaning against it. “What’s this about Australia?”
“No, I think we’re starting with you loving me.” He grinned.
“I love you.” Her green eyes never wavered. “Chances are it’s never going to be easy.”
“You think I don’t know that? Nothing about you is.” He reached for her. “My choice to make.” His arms tightened around her, pulling her close.
Her head rested on his chest. “I didn’t have a choice when it came to loving you, Jace Black.”
His hand ran up and down her back. “I thank my lucky stars for that.”
“Your heart is on overdrive,” she murmured, looking up at him.
“It does that when you’re around.” Another long, slow stroke down her back. His hand was shaking—ever so slightly. She had no idea the effect she had on him.
She smiled. “It does?”
He nodded, kissing her temple. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. Natural and right.
“And you’re not leaving?” Those green eyes were blazing. “You’re going to Australia with us?”
“I’m going to Australia with you.” He shook his head. “I love you and want to be with you. Pretty straightforward stuff.”
“Good.” He’d never seen anything as beautiful as her smile. She whispered, “Because even though I’m still not sure I’m in love with your name, I am very much in love with you.”
“You keep on telling yourself that.” His lips brushed her nose.
Read on for a sneak peek at the next book in Sasha Summers’s Brock
Coming soon from Sourcebooks Casablanca
Chapter 1
“Open, dammit!” Emmy Lou pushed the button again, smacking the pink and white polka-dot umbrella against her thigh. It still wouldn’t open. The sky rumbled overhead.
“Ooh, language, Emmy.” Her twin sister, Krystal, laughed. “Next you’ll be saying shit or ass or fu—”
“No, I won’t.” Emmy spoke into the mic on the earbuds she had plugged into her left ear, while her sister continued to laugh. “But this might be a little easier if I wasn’t face-timing you right now.” Umbrella in one hand, phone in the other, she started walking.
Krystal held her phone closer, flipping her lower lip for a full-on pout. “But I miss you.”
“I miss you too.” Emmy said, blinking raindrops from her lashes. “Enough to walk through a parking lot, in the rain, with an umbrella that won’t open, and keep talking to you.” She kept pressing the button on the handle, but it didn’t help. Of course, the rain was falling faster now; big pelting drops.
“Where is Sawyer? Why isn’t our bulky, scowling bodyguard carrying a massive bulletproof umbrella over your head? Or have you wrapped in bulletproof bubble-wrap? Or, at least, driven you inside the coliseum versus dropping you off in the rain, in the back forty?” There was a hint of accusation in her sister’s voice. “I assumed he’d be Velcro-ed by your side since you’re his number one person to protect. And that’s his job.”
“Be nice to Sawyer.” Being a bodyguard for the Kings couldn’t be easy. This last year especially—with all the drama. But he’d stuck it out and stayed with them. Either he was super loyal or her daddy paid him really well. Maybe both. “He wanted to be here.” Emmy wiped the rain from her eyes. “He had to go pick up Travis down the road—because our brother ran out of gas.” She sighed, clicking the button on her umbrella again. “And I’m getting soaked because this thing is broken.”
“You’re probably just not doing it right.” Krystal was all innocence. “Are you pressing the button?”
“Are you serious?” Emmy Lou stared at her sister, coming to a stop.
“No.” She burst into laughter. “But you sort of set yourself up for that one.”
“I should hang up.” Emmy laughed, peering at the stadium through the rain. Rain that was getting heavier and faster.
“But you won’t.” Krystal leaned forward. “Then again…you are starting to look like a wet rat. Walk faster.”
Emmy stuck out her tongue at her sister, her steps quickening. “Where is Jace? Normally you two are glued at the hip.”
“You have no idea.” She bobbed her eyebrows and giggled.
“And I don’t want one, thank you very much.” She was jogging now, weaving around the parked cars.
“He’s doing an interview for an Australian magazine. They really love him here.” Krystal grinned. “What’s not to love?”
Emmy smiled. “He is pretty lovable.” She adored her sister’s boyfriend. Jace Black was a good guy and he loved her sister with the perfect mix of tender and fierce. And Krystal? Emmy had never seen her sister like this. Happy. Smiling. At peace, for the first time in so long.
“Isn’t he, though?” Krystal was gushing. She never gushed. Not before Jace, anyway.
“I’m glad you two are having such a good—”
The squeal of brakes had her jumping a good ten feet in the air. A truck, going way too fast in a parking lot—in a torrential downpour—skidded to a stop mere inches from where she stood. It happened too fast for her to move. Too fast to do anything but curl in on herself, dropping her umbrella and holding her other hand, and phone, out to protect herself. Which, considering the vehicle was massive and she was not, didn’t make any sense but… it was instinctual. She braced herself on the truck hood, her knees knocking so hard there was a high likelihood she’d collapse onto the slick concrete at any moment.
“Holy shit,” Krystal was saying, the phone now face down on the hood. “Emmy! Emmy? Can you hear me? Are you okay? Answer me.”
She could have been hit… Almost was. But wasn’t. Emmy flipped the phone over. “Here.” But she was gasping for breath. Her heart pumped madly, reaching what had to be the maximum beats per minute. “Fine.”
She was vaguely aware of the truck driver’s side door opening wide, followed by rapid footsteps plashing in newly formed puddles. But she was still grappling with the whole near-death experience to process the arrival of her almost assailant.
“Where is the driver? Are they getting out? Hold your phone up,” Krystal growled. “I want to see what this asshole has to say about nearly running you over.”
“Are you okay?” said the mountain of a man heading her way.
“I’m fine.” She answered, rubbing water from her eyes. Her hand shook. Her voice shook. But she was okay.
“You didn’t see me coming?” he asked, stepping closer. “My truck?”
“Seriously, Emmy Lou, hold up the phone,” Krystal snapped. “You couldn’t see her? In her bright-yellow and pink, daisy-covered raincoat? Because, honestly, she might as well be wrapped, head-to-toe, in reflective tape. Asshole.”
“Krystal,” Emmy whispered into the mic hanging from her earpiece.
