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Chapter 1
“Are you kidding lared at her daddy, country , in pure disbelief “Why would this be great news? For me, anyway” Blood roared in her ears and a throb took up residence at the base of her neck She slipped the leather strap of her favorite Taylor spruce acoustic guitar from around her neck and placed the instrureat news for what’s his name—”
“Jace Black,” her er, Steve Zamora, said
“Whatever,” she snapped, shooting a lethal gaze at the balding little , ” She downed a water bottle, parched froht
“Cos,” her father soothed But she wasn’t ready to forgive hiood in this And when he added “You know E
Unlike htened She and her twin, Eht and day A point her momma was all too happy to point out at every opportunity
“Don’t get your feathers ruffled, now You know I didn’tby that” Her daddy tipped his favorite tan cowboy hat back on his forehead, crossed his arms over his chest, and frowned
Poor Daddy He said the worey It wasn’t intentional She didn’t like disappointing hi out from under her and expect her to smile and thank him She wasn’t a saint She wasn’t Emmy
Steve tried again “This is a win all around, Krystal”
“No, it’s not Not for e theirwas “Daddy, you know this songto me, that it’s…important I’ it and do it justice” She hated that her voice wavered, that sentiment seeped in This was business And while the business loved raw emotion and drama in its music and lyrics, they weren’t fans of it from their performers
“Now, darlin’, you knoorks It’s all about ti” Steve used his soft voice, the please-don’t-let-her-start-screas voice Like lemon juice in a paper cut
“Ti Steve Zaendary father’s ass andEmmy Lou’s career “It’s been my sister’s time for ten years now”
Not that she begrudged her sister an iota of her fame It wasn’t E, asweetness that the world adored Krystal had a real hard time with sweetness
Why the media, fans, even the record company labeled Krystal the rebel, a black sheep, the wild child of the King faood twin, bad twin thing? Whatever She had her days And her very public breakup with Mickey Graham hadn’t helped To hear him tell it, she was a selfish prima donna who’d broken his heart It’d hurt like hell that everyone was so willing to believe the worst of her But her pride had stopped her fro the truth—the real truth, not Mickey’s version of it His tall tales cee, so she’d eave her
“I get you’re disappointed, Krystal, but there will be other songs” Daddy’s hand cupped her cheek, his senuine and sympathetic
He did not just say that His easy diss, but this one ht chalk it up to her breakup with Mickey She knew better The song had come from a wound that wouldn’t heal A wound that haunted her dreauard her heart, to never let anyone in Every scribbled note, tweaked word, chord change, or key finagle had led her to both love and hate the finished product But it made her proud
Her daddy had said he was proud, too Just not enough While she’d never asked her father to plead her case at their label, Wheelhouse Records, she realized, deep down, she’d hoped he would—for this song—without her having to ask But if he had chale, not Emmy and some new music reality TV star
“You good?” her father asked