Page 54 of Have To Be Mine

“For what? You did all the work.”

“For pushing me to do that.” Her voice was steady but she was smiling and crying at the same time. “It’s been so long since I sang. So long.” She shook her head slowly like she was still processing it. “I haven’t felt that close to her in over a decade. You picked the perfect song.”

“I have to say, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Krista shook her head. “They’re happy tears. I don’t know how to explain it. It was like she was right there. Like she was listening.” She pressed her lips together. “You gave me that. Thank you.”

She sipped her drink and slowly pulled herself back together.

In my life, people thanked me for things constantly. For picking up the tab. For getting the table. For knowing the right person or making the right call or showing up to a party and making it worth attending. Thank you, Dash, you’re the best, you’re so fun, what would we do without you? I’d heard it a thousand times and it rarely ever meant anything.

Her gratitude meant everything.

“You’re welcome,” I said. “I’m glad I could be here to share this moment with you.”

She wiped her eyes one more time and straightened up, pulling herself back together. But the armor didn’t go all the way back on. Her shoulders stayed soft. She looked at me differently now. I knew I was looking at her differently too. It was like I was seeing a totally different woman.

“We should go,” she said.

“Yeah.”

“Unless you want to sing again,” she said with a laugh.

“I don’t know if my adoring fanbase can tolerate a third performance.” I smiled. “And I’m not topping my Celine Dion.”

She popped her lower lip in the prettiest pout ever. “I was hoping for some Justin Bieber.”

“That’s blasphemy.”

“John Fogerty?”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“CCR!” She slapped a hand over her chest. “You need a music education.”

“I’m your willing student.”

I tossed enough cash on the table to cover the drinks twice over. We made our way out of the cafe. I put my hand in the small of Krista’s back to guide her through the crowd. She didn’t move away from it. That felt important. I didn’t think she would ever let a man guide her anywhere—but she was letting me.

Outside, it was still warm. She bumped her shoulder against mine. I caught her hand and she let me keep it.

We didn’t talk much on the walk back. There wasn’t a lot that needed saying. Our fingers stayed loosely threaded together as we walked. I was aware of every point of contact. I didn’t know what she wanted, but I knew what I wanted.

By the time the hotel came into view, the tension between us had shifted into something charged. I was no longer wondering what she wanted. I felt it. Her hand squeezed mine just a little tighter when we stepped into the elevator.

The doors opened on our floor.

We held hands as we walked down the hall. My door was first. I paused, not dropping her hand. It was a silent question.

She stopped and turned to look up at me. There was an entire conversation that happened in that single look. She just reached out and grabbed the front of my shirt.

“Don’t say a word,” she murmured.

18

KRISTA

I’d made a lot of questionable decisions in my life. Joining the military when I was barely eighteen. Taking that logistics contract in Yemen that nearly got me killed. Cutting my hair short because it was practical when I first joined the military. I had decided five minutes after it happened I would never do that again.