“Emmy Lou.” Krystal’s eyes locked with hers.
There was no point arguing with her twin. She hadn’t been eating. Intentional or not, it was the truth. “Fine. I’ll eat a pie as soon as we’re done.”
“Right. Sure. And while you’re feeding me lies to keep me happy—how was the photo shoot?” Krystal drew her legs up to her chest and rested her chin on her knees, staring at her. “Might as well spill—I’ll keep asking.”
Tell me something I don’t know. Krystal was like a dog with a bone. Not just relentless in the pursuit of what she wanted but also in protecting the bone. Emmy, in this case, was the bone.
“It was a professional photo shoot.” Aside from the breathing difficulties she’d had when they’d made initial eye contact. Or when they’d touched. Or when she was hanging over his shoulder. Not that anyone noticed. Rather, she hoped no one had noticed. “I think the shoot went well.” One thing was certain, the years hadn’t eased the more visceral connection between them. Not for her, anyway.
“I wasn’t worried about the photos. You have never taken a bad picture, Em. There are about a million on the internet to prove my point, too.” She paused. “Was it super…awkward with him there?” Her nose squinched up. “Without kicking him in the balls or something, I mean? Because he so deserves a good knee to the—”
“No.” Emmy was laughing again. “Not really. I concentrated. You know, on the reason I was there? Raising awareness for youth and teen drug addiction. All that?”
Krystal blinked, her eyes narrowing and her lips pressing flat.
Emmy was just as adept at reading her sister as Krystal was… maybe it was the whole twin thing. But the shift in expressions was telling—in a not so good way. “What’s happened?”
“Momma called.” Krystal’s tone was flat.
It was Emmy Lou’s turn to blink. Their mother had reached out to Krystal? “Oh.” Why? Momma had promised to leave Krystal alone. She’d promised to give her daughter space—space they both needed to heal. Then again, this was their mother. She wasn’t always the most honest or forthcoming when it served her purposes—a fact Emmy was only beginning to fully grasp. “I thought… I hoped…”
Krystal shook her head. “I don’t understand why she doesn’t get that I…I can’t deal with her. Not yet.”
The rift between their mother and Krystal had always been a mystery to Emmy Lou. Had been. Past tense. Now? Emmy understood all too well. Learning the damage their mother’s hidden drug addiction had inflicted—deliberate or not—had shaken the very foundation of their family. Recovering would take time. “Then don’t. Not yet.” The sheen in her sister’s emerald eyes deflated Emmy’s lungs.
“Maybe not ever.” Krystal cleared her throat, sitting up, her spine stiff, and the defiant lift of her chin her standard defensive posture. “Maybe that makes me a coldhearted bitch, but…well, then I’m a coldhearted bitch.”
“Whoa, whoa.” Jace Black’s voice came out of nowhere. Seconds later, he was crawling onto the bed and reaching for Krystal, grabbing her leg with a wide smile on his face. Krystal’s laughter rang out, her attempts to get away halfhearted at best. Krystal wound up flat on the mattress, beneath Jace, breathless with laughter. “Negatory. Nothing cold about you.” He was staring down at Krystal with the sort of heat th
at made Emmy Lou clear her throat loudly.
“Hey, Emmy. Didn’t see you there.” He chuckled and sat back, running his fingers through his floppy hair. “Guess we’re talking about the photo shoot?” Jace frowned. “Travis said he was a dick.”
“Tool,” Krystal whispered, taking his hand.
There was a knock on Emmy’s bedroom door. “Emmy?” Juliette Rousseau peered inside. “Am I early for our fitting?”
“No.” She waved in her brilliant costume designer. “I’m just wrapping up with Krystal. Juliette is here.” She turned the camera so Krystal could see the woman.
“Hi, Juliette.” Krystal waved.
Juliette waved back. “I’ll be back with the clothing. Set up in here?” Once Emmy nodded, she left.
Krystal twined her arms around Jace’s neck. “I’ve been thinking. Now that you’re hanging out with a bunch of manly men, maybe you’ll find one worth taking a chance on?”
No way. “Maybe.” Travis’s nun-of-country-music comment resurfaced. She didn’t want to be alone. But she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt a flicker of interest. Not true. Didn’t want to remember was more like it. If she continued to hold on to Brock Watson and the idyllic time they’d had together, no other man stood a chance.
A lingering glance between Krystal and Jace left a hollow ache in the pit of her stomach. The love her sister and Jace had found in each other was impossible for her. They’d taken a leap of faith and it had paid off. Emmy would never take that leap again. Not that she was going to say as much to Krystal. Instead, she held up the sheet music. “While I’m considering all these new manly options, you can send me the rest—with the chorus.”
Jace scooched up on the bed, sliding his legs around Krystal to peer over her shoulder at the sheet music. He hummed a few notes. “Chorus?”
Krystal nodded.
He hummed it through again. “No fighting this. No stopping fate. Third time’s a charm. My heart can’t wait?” Jace sang, his tone deep and husky.
“Really?” Krystal stared over her shoulder at him. “It’s that easy?”
He shrugged. “Or something.”