And then Krystal was hugging her back, tight, a wave of compassion and understanding almost drowning her. This woman, sunny and together, was broken inside, too. It hit her then…had she said enough? Not just for herself, but for Molly—others? “I’m so sorry.”
“Me too. For you. You are awesome.” She stepped back, all smiles. “I’d really like to continue to cover this, if you’re okay with it? Do some investigative work? You know, reporting?”
“Yes.” Krystal nodded. She’d only find truth. How could that be a bad thing?
The tech was unhooking them when the door opened and her mother walked in.
“Shit,” she whispered.
Molly turned. “I’m guessing this is the parent who didn’t listen?”
Krystal wasn’t going to throw her parents under the bus. This wasn’t about them. This was about Tig. Her father was truly haunted by his actions; she didn’t have it in her to hold his mistakes against him. But her mother? Tempting as it was, she wouldn’t out her mother for the queen manipulator she was.
“Molly,” her mother gushed. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet you.”
“Mrs. King.” Molly shook her hand. “It was so incredibly kind of you to open your amazing home to me and my crew.”
“I only wish it were under less horrific circumstances.” Her mother’s sympathy was almost as good as her surprise. Krystal often wondered how much time her mother spent in front of her mirror practicing her emotional repertoire. Knowing her mother, a lot. She was a perfectionist when it came to delivery. If she was going for sympathy, Krystal wasn’t buying it. Then again, she knew her mother all too well.
“Yes.” Molly nodded. “Still, you have to be proud of your daughter for taking a stand. It’s sad that there’s still such a stigma attached to sexual abuse.”
“Hank and I were just discussing that.” Her mother nodded. “Please say you’ll stay for some iced tea and a walk around the house and grounds?”
“Tea sounds lovely.” Molly nodded. “Unfortunately, we have to head to ACMF soon.”
“Of course.” Her mother smiled. “Duty calls. Us career girls have to keep our eye on the prize always.”
Over the years, Krystal had come to terms with her mother’s career choice. Keeping the Three Kings on top, her family together, and her father relevant on the music charts was, apparently, a full-time job—with lots of overtime. How did CiCi King manage it all? Through whatever means were necessary. She was ruthless in her efficiency.
“They’re all waiting for us in the kitchen,” her mother said. “Feel free to bring a camera, of course.”
Of course.
“Are you sure?” Molly asked, excited.
“Certainly.”
The three of them, cameraman in tow, strolled from the music room and down the hall to the large family kitchen. Her family was gathered around the massive farm table in the kitchen, Jace and Heather included. From the looks on their faces, her mother’s invitation had not been a family decision.
“Let’s show our guest some Texas hospitality.” Her mother smiled.
Travis hopped up. “Miss Harper.” He pulled the chair back, smiling what he thought of as his smolder face.
Krystal sig
hed, her gaze instinctively bouncing to Jace.
He winked. And her heart thumped. Dammit. This, being a couple in front of Molly and her camera, was going to be a challenge.
Emmy and Krystal made sure everyone, cameraman included, had a tall glass of sweet iced tea. Homemade ginger, oatmeal raisin, and pecan sandy cookies were put on the table and, slowly, the strain of the whole surprise eased. Molly shared some of her favorite assignments while Travis hung on every word. Her father, still not quite himself, tried to engage. While Heather was too nervous to do more than give one-word responses about college and her brother’s career.
Krystal was fully aware of Jace’s arm draped along the back of her chair. Since they had an audience, it made sense to lean against him. She could breathe now. The interview was over, her nightmare ready to be shared with the world. It was horrible and real and done. She could breathe. For now.
But the minute the cameraman was done with his cookies and he’d begun filming, her mother was on.
“I wanted to thank you for coming out, Molly.” Her mother assumed her concerned expression. Not too much of a furrow—her Botox wouldn’t allow that. “We are just heartsick over this whole ordeal.”
Jace’s arm tightened, his other hand taking Krystal’s. She held on. That’s what you did. Held hands, sat close…