They’d started with her parents. Following the near catastrophe of her interview, her parents had one hell of a fight. Screaming, her mother; and doors slamming, her mother; and the shockingly calm suggestion that one of them leave for a while, her father, had ended with just that. Her mother decided now was the time to visit one of her sorority friends. In Italy. While the details of the fight hadn’t made it to the press, there was all sorts of speculation about CiCi’s sudden international trip—something she never did without her entire family. Was it over her drug addiction reveal? Was she still a drug addict off to some high-priced rehab center away from the public eye? Had she and Hank finally decided to divorce? Krystal didn’t worry too much over her mother, but she worried about her father. Normally, he’d laugh off whatever the papers printed about him. But now? He hadn’t been doing a lot of laughing lately.
And Travis? Well, a lot of that was just splashing pictures of his constant stream of rotating women. Not exactly news.
Emmy’s was the hardest. Why the Star Gazette thought it was necessary to run an article on Brock and how lucky he was not to have wound up a member of the King family was a mystery. The only thing that mattered was how devastated Emmy Lou had been. Again. Brock didn’t deserve that sort of love—he sure as heck didn’t deserve her sister. Emmy Lou was the one who’d lucked out, not Brock. If a man wound up winning her sister, what else could he ever need or want for?
And then there was Jace. Nothing was off-limits. They’d tracked down his wife’s relative who’d gone on and on about how deeply in love they’d been and how, after Nikki’s death, they’d all worried Jace would harm himself. Another article had printed pictures of Jace with his son, Ben. He’d looked so happy—so much like a proud father. Knowing what he’d been through, what he’d lost, gutted her. How did he go on? How had his heart survived?
It was so hard. She’d never been in love before. There was something powerful about having him just walk in the room. Just that, and everything felt…easier. Like now, with his hand on her thigh and his words of support, he made this easier.
And the tug in her heart stronger than ever.
“It’s never a bad idea to do the right thing?” Travis mumbled. “That was frigging deep.”
Krystal flipped him off again.
“Krystal.” Emmy sat across from her, taking her hand. “Look at me.”
She shook her head.
“Please.”
Her sigh was bone deep, but she looked at her sister.
“We’ll figure it out.” Emmy Lou squeezed her hand. “I’m not saying I have a single idea but…we’ll come up with something. Okay?”
“Okay.” Emmy needed her to say it, so she did. But she didn’t necessarily believe it.
“Man, maybe you should think about Luke’s deal?” Travis said. “It’s not too late to save yourself from this sinking ship.”
Krystal sat up, glaring at her brother. “Sinking ship?” She flipped him off again, right in his face.
Emmy and Jace laughed. Jace, who was kneeling beside her, the warmth of his palm seeping through her jeans and into her skin. She stole a glance from the corner of her eye. Lucky for her, he was now wearing a shirt. And pants. Not that it made him any less appealing. She sighed, tearing her gaze away.
“Wait.” Her brother’s words registered. “What deal?” Her gaze darted from Travis to Jace, a whisper of unease racing down her spine.
Jace stood, shaking his head. “Nothing.”
His hand, his warmth, was gone. More than a whisper now—especially since Jace wouldn’t look at her.
“I’m not sure a tour with Samson McCall, Aaron Jackman, and Martina Lambert is nothing.” Travis shook his head. “Soda?” he asked, heading to the refrigerator.
“Water?” she called out. Because a painful knot was now lodged in her throat. “Why wouldn’t you take that?” she asked. It was a no-brainer. They were three of the biggest names, regulars, chart-toppers. They’d banded together for a limited tour that sold out in less than twenty-two hours.
“I’d be opening for them.” He shrugged.
“You’re opening for us,” Emmy Lou pointed out. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re like family now, Jace. But family looks out for one another. This seems like one of those don’t-regret-this sort of things.”
“Told you,” Travis said, rolling a water bottle across the table to her. “Sinking ship.” He pointed between the three of them.
Krystal took a long swig of her water bottle. It didn’t help. If anything, her throat felt a little more shredded than it had before. Forget unease. Dread was more accurate
for the hollow, stark hole devouring the place around her heart. “When does the tour start?”
His light brown eyes met hers. “I’d finish up here and have, like, two days.”
Nod. Respond. Pretend to be happy for him. But she couldn’t.
“But you get to finish with us first?” Emmy Lou nodded. “Then you have to do it, Jace. No conflict of interest. And Wheelhouse supports it? Since they’re all about their artists?”