Jace (Kings of Country 1)

Five.

Becca was the sixth.

Krystal cried for them.

/> She wasn’t the first. Two came before her—women he’d damaged so badly they’d walked away from their chance at stardom.

Wheelhouse Records disavowed any connection with Tig Whitman. They asked for a meeting, so she and her father had driven into Austin to listen to their plan to support her charity cookbook. Not only would they donate a portion of sales from any musician who chose to participate, they were also planning a charity concert. The whole ride home, the ghost of a new song was flitting through her brain. A new song. A survivor’s song.

“What’s the verdict?” Emmy Lou asked when she walked into the kitchen. “Are we hired, fired, or temporarily unemployed?”

Krystal laughed. “We’ve been extended. Internationally. Twelve stops.”

Emmy clapped, pouring hot water from her teapot into her mug. “Want some peppermint tea?”

“I’m good, thanks.” Krystal started pulling out ingredients.

“What are we making?” Emmy sat on the stool.

She shrugged. “Not sure.”

“You can talk to me, you know. I’d really like it if we had the twin thing that people talk about.”

“That’s harsh.” She stared at her sister. It took a lot to get Emmy Lou riled up. “But you’re right. I’m sorry.”

“I know I’m right.” She nodded. “Now talk to me. We don’t want to go to Australia? We don’t know what to make for dinner? We don’t want to lose Jace but we’re still borderline emotionally constipated and think we can’t have him even though he clearly wants to be had…by you?” She shook her head. “You get what I’m saying.”

She blinked. “Who are you and what have you done with my sister?”

“I’m right here.” She smiled. “I’ve always been right here.” She stared into her tea. “And I might have read something this morning that made me really, really wish you would see what a great guy you have waiting for you.”

“What did you read?” Yes, she would ignore the rest of the statement for now.

“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.”