Jace (Kings of Country 1)

Travis shrugged. “He didn’t want breakfast. I asked what’s up. He said he ‘feels like hell.’”

Checking on this would be bad. Denial or not, some of her behavior could possibly, probably, fall in to the stringing-him-along category. But it wasn’t intentional. She tried to keep her distance, she did. But one look from him, one crooked smile, or the brush of his hand, and she was kissing him—then running away.

She stared out the front windows, the buses lined up along the outside of the parking lot. “I should check on him.”

“No. You shouldn’t.” Emmy Lou shook her head. “You told me to keep you away from him, remember? You can’t get mad at me.”

“You told her to remind you of what?” Travis asked. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

When it came to Jace, she had the best of intentions but zero willpower. Krystal slipped out of the booth. “Page seventy-eight will give you a laundry list to pick from.” She went to the counter, ordered three bear claws and two black coffees, smiled at the starstruck waitress, and hurried to the boys’ bus.

Hardy, the driver, opened the door and thanked her for the bear claw and coffee she’d brought.

“Breakfast?” she called out softly.

She walked to the back of the bus. Unlike her and Emmy’s top-of-the-line model, this one was more basic. She and Emmy had their own rooms, snug but private. There was one sleeping compartment at the back of this one, but it was reserved for her father. Jace and Travis had the not-so-private sleeping bunks built into either side of the bus. When they weren’t in use, the bunk folded up and out of the way. Efficient, her father called it. Uncomfortable, Travis countered, pointing out the inequality in the buses whenever he had the chance.

Jace was sleeping, hard. His face was turned away, sheet rumpled across his chest. She swallowed, marveling at that chest. Jace was…well, his body was impressive. Not just the muscles, all of him. She sighed, hating how much she ached for this man.

One arm was draped out, his hand hanging off the edge of his bunk. A pencil lay on the ground, dropped, on top of sheet music. Sheet music she had no right to read. A glimpse down the hall told her there was no one around to know if she’d read it. And she and Jace had worked on several songs together, so there was a chance he’d share this one, too.

And she really, really wanted to read it.

She kicked off her shoes and sat on the other bunk, picking up the sheet music with care.

“Let Me Love You.” She stared over the edge of the page at him, sound asleep. Her heart thumped so hard and heavy against her chest. What would she do if he ever said something like that to her? Stop with the daydreaming. Her eyes skimmed over the words, paused, then read them again—slowly—the music playing out in her head. “You say your heart is hard and there’s no hope. Your world split wide and you can’t cope. Words are empty and nothing more. Finding strength, a daily chore. I say, stop fighting to stand alone. 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.” The words were blurring. “Through the dark of night and the light of day, I will love your troubles away. When you’re cold and you’ve lost your way, I will love you home to stay. See me standing here and let me love you. Because I do. I love you.”

She wiped the tears from her face and finished reading the song. His writing was loopier at the end, almost too small to read. It was brilliant. He was brilliant.

She stared at him, sound asleep, his cheeks red. I love you.

She put the page back and knelt, resting a hand on his forehead. He was flushed. Maybe he was sick?

He jolted awake, sleep-filled eyes blinking as he turned to look at her. “Krystal?” He sat up, running a hand over his face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She held up the bag and coffee. “Travis said you weren’t feeling well. Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Didn’t sleep much last night,” he explained, yawning. “New song…” He looked around his bed, then over the edge. “Here.” He picked it up and placed it on the bed beside him, facedown.

Interesting. Not sharing then. Guilt kicked in. “I read it. It was there and I couldn’t not read it.”

He grinned. “And?”

“And it’s amazing.” She nibbled on her lip. “A perfect duet.”

“Sort of what I was thinking.” He stared at the pages. “This bit right here. It needs something.”

“Maybe we can look at it later? If you want?”

His gaze met hers. “I do.”

The longer he looked at her, the tighter her lungs felt. It was down

right unnerving. “I just wanted to make sure you were feeling okay.” She stood. “We’ve got all those press things tomorrow.”

“That’s why you’re checking in?” He shook his head. “Thanks. I’ll be ready for tomorrow.”

Which wasn’t what she meant at all. “No.” She set the bag on his bed.