Jace (Kings of Country 1)
Page 120
Something in his tone tipped her off. “Jace…don’t do this.” She wouldn’t stop shaking her head. “We’re going to Australia. You’ve got your new tour. There’s no point. Don’t say something you can’t take back. Don’t say something you can’t mean.”
As much as she wanted to forget everything about the night of her attack, she couldn’t. Tig’s words were indelibly etched into her heart.
“That’s what scares you?” He closed the distance between them, staring down at her. “That I love you? You think it doesn’t scare the shit out of me?” He swallowed. “It does. But I do. Love you.”
He’d said it. The words were out and she was staring at him like an idiot. “No. No. You can’t.”
His brow rose. “I can.” He brushed a curl from her shoulder. “You can’t do a thing to stop me.”
She pressed a hand to his chest, frustrated. “Jace.” She broke off, pressing again. Why had he said it?
“I get you’ve been hurt. But I won’t hurt you.”
“I’ll hurt you.” Her voice shook. “My whole life, I’ve wound up hurting those I care about. You’ve already had your heart ripped out. Now you want me to believe that three words can make everything better?”
“If you let them. If you believe in what they mean.” He shook his head. “I see you. And I love what I see.” His fingers stroked along her cheek. “Don’t let fear stop this. You’re this brave, strong woman. Be brave for me.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it, pushing against his chest again. “I don’t know if I can.” The hurt on his face pushed her from the kitchen, down the hall, to the safety of her bedroom, mumbling something about answering some letters.
She waved away the call to dinner and Emmy’s invitation to come watch a movie. She couldn’t face him, couldn’t stand the hope and longing his words stirred.
About midnight, doubt kicked in. And regret. What if she was wrong? What if he really did love her? And his devotion wasn’t due to some overdeveloped sense of honor but honest-to-goodness love? How could someone like Jace love someone like her?
At two, she stopped pacing her room and went back to answering letters. If she couldn’t sleep, she’d do something useful. Some were fan letters. Others were long letters that had her sobbing.
“Krystal?” Her daddy knocked on the door. “Can I come in?”
“Yes.”
He surveyed the mass of letters all over her bed. “I figured you were avoiding things.” He sighed, holding out a plate. “Strawberry shortcake.”
Her stomach growled.
He chuckled and sat on the edge of the bed.
While she devoured her cake, he read over the cards.
“What do you say to them?” he asked, setting a card aside. “How do you even know what to say?”
She scraped the frosting from her plate. “I don’t have the answers, I start with that. But…” She set the plate down. “Some still feel like their attacker controls them, even months or years afterward. For those, I tell them living a full life, without fear, taking chances, is the only way to move on.” She shuffled through the letters. “Others have a hard time taking compliments, that it’s easier to believe the negative things—it makes what happened more logical. But listening to the people who really love you makes more sense that believing the person who hurt you.” She shrugged. “Like I said, I’m no expert.”
He smiled. “Sounds like you have a pretty good understanding of what you’re talking about.”
“Dinner go okay?”
“You were missed.” He nodded. “Jace and Emmy made the cake for you. His idea.”
She shook her head. “He’s…stubborn.”
“You wouldn’t know a thing about that.” He chuckled. “He loves you, I know that much.”
She kept right on shaking her head. “He can’t.”
“Krystal. You’re giving this wonderful advice to strangers. Telling them to live without fear, to take chances, to listen to the people who really love them—not the ones who hurt you.” He shook his head. “Why aren’t you doing those things? You write the most beautiful songs and I love hearing them. As your daddy, I’d rather you were living the most beautiful life—so I could see you truly happy.” He took her plate.
“I love you, Daddy.” She smiled. “You totally just pulled a Sixteen Candles move on me.”
“Sixteen Candles?” He paused by the door, thinking.