Becca nodded, looking more anxious than excited. “I’ve never sung in a place this big.”
Krystal couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t performing for a crowd. Even before they’d officially become the Three Kings, she and her siblings were singing. County fairs and craft shows. A few local rodeos, then a few worth noticing. She’d only been fourteen when Three Kings was born.
“Helps if you can focus on something,” Jace offered. “Or someone. When I was on Next Top American Voice, I’d find my sister and if I got jittery, seeing her would calm me down. Same with singing with Krystal. One look at her, and I know we’re good.”
Becca blinked. “I don’t have anyone.”
Krystal hurt. As much as she hated to, she asked, “Where’s Tig?”
“A meeting? I think.” She shrugged. “It’s just a rehearsal.” But it wasn’t just a rehearsal—not to Becca. Beads of sweat lined her upper lip and forehead. Her face was so white, her lipstick was almost clown-like.
“I’ll stay.” Krystal smiled, squeezing Jace’s hand. “I’ve been wanting to hear you sing.”
Becca shook her head. “No. No, you really don’t have to.”
“I know.” She shrugged. Pressuring the poor girl wasn’t going to help. “But I’d like to?”
Becca shifted from one booted foot to the other, undecided. “I’m fine.”
“You sure?” Krystal asked. “Try closing your eyes. People think you’re lost in the music, but it gives your mind a break from the noise. Or stare over everyone, not at them.”
Becca nodded, sniffing. “Okay. I can try that.” Her smile was wobbly. “See you two later.”
They weren’t down the steps of the stage before Jace asked, “I’m guessing we’re staying?”
“Oh really?” She was a fan of the cap thing. He could pull it off. “You think you’ve got me all figured out?”
He reached the wood-chip-covered ground and turned to face her. “Hell no. Not in the least.” The corner of his mouth curved up. “Doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying.”
“But we are staying.” She paused. “Or y’all can go on and I’ll catch up. It shouldn’t take long.”
He rubbed his cap back and forth on his head, his eyes warm on her face. “I’m where I want to be.”
They headed into the amphitheater seating. Jace headed toward his sister and her family, but Krystal sat up front, where Becca could see her.
Becca was a wreck, staring wildly around, her hands shaking so hard around the mic that it picked up the noise. Krystal sat, willing the girl to look at her, so she’d know someone was rooting for her. When Becca’s dark gaze bounced right over her, Krystal worried the girl was too worked up to notice. But she had. And when Becca looked at her, all surprise and relief, Krystal knew she’d made the right choice.
The band counted to five and Becca started singing, eyes closed.
“Momma said don’t waste your wishes on flowers and coins…” Her voice was deeper than expected. Deep but smooth. “Four-leaf clovers wilt and shooting stars burn out…” It was a sing-along kind of song. A song that would get stuck in folks’ head, to hum along to. Becca kept on singing, her eyes opened and she blinked, searching, then smiling at Krystal.
Krystal winked.
“But I’d plant clover and dandelions, collect every coin, and buy a telescope so I could wish every wish on you-oo-hoo-oo. All for you-oo-hoo-oo.” Her posture was easing, one foot tapping along.
The girl could sing. And this song was radio gold.
“She’s something, isn’t she?” Tig Whitman said.
She hadn’t heard him sit behind her; she’d been too focused on Becca. Becca—who needed her to stay put.
“She reminds me a lot of you. A lot of heart. Eager to please.” He chuckled. “Damn talented.”
She leaned forward, not wanting his voice in her ear or his breath on her skin.
The song ended and Krystal was up, running toward the stage. “You did great, Becca.”
Becca cradled the mic to her chest, beaming. “I know I said you didn’t have to stay but thank you, so much. It meant a lot. So much.”