Page 53 of Have To Be Mine

What the fuck?

Her voice was incredible. Not just good. Incredible. Rich and powerful and achingly vulnerable all at once. Every note was perfect, like she’d been born to do this. The entire cafe fell into a stunned hush, everyone captivated by the sound filling the speakers.

Karaoke was all about being silly and bad but Krista was neither of those things.

And it wasn’t just her voice. All that rigid military posture had melted away. She swayed slightly with the music, her eyes closed, and she was completely lost in the moment. This was not the woman I met a few days ago. This was someone soft and open and breathtakingly beautiful.

I watched her, unable to look away or even blink. I saw her in a way I’d never seen anyone before. Not as a conquest or a challenge or even just a beautiful woman. I saw her as someone complex and real. I wanted more. I wanted to know every version of her. The soldier and the singer. I wanted to peel back every layer until I understood exactly who Krista Hedley was beneath all that armor.

When she hit the chorus, her voice soared. Several people in the cafe had their phones out, recording. A couple of women were crying. The bartender had stopped pouring drinks to watch. No one was talking. She had their full attention.

I wanted her more than I’d ever wanted anyone before.

The song ended, and for a moment, there was absolute silence. Krista opened her eyes, looking startled, like she’d forgotten where she was. Then the cafe exploded. People were on their feet, cheering, whistling, demanding an encore. The DJ was grinning like he’d just discovered a superstar.

Krista’s eyes found mine across the room. I saw panic flash across her face. She wasn’t ready for this attention. I was already moving. I jumped up on the stage, grabbed the microphone, and launched into the most obnoxious rendition of “My Heart Will Go On” that had ever been performed, without any music to accompany me.

I was so off-key it was painful, but it worked. The crowd’s attention shifted from her to me, half of them laughing at my terrible Celine Dion impression, the other half booing.

Krista slipped off the stage and disappeared into the crowd. I kept singing and making a spectacle of myself until I was sure she’d made it safely back to our table. Only then did I mercifully end the song and escape the stage myself.

I found her in the corner, her face buried in her hands.

“You okay?” I asked, sliding into the seat beside her.

She looked up, and her eyes were shining. “I can’t believe I just did that.”

“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding that voice.” I signaled the bartender for another round. “You said your mom sang. You didn’t mention you inherited her talent.”

She smiled. “She was always trying to get me to sing with her.”

“You have a gift.”

She shook her head. “It’s not a gift. It’s just something I used to do.”

“Used to?”

“Before. Before I decided I needed to be taken seriously. Before I became…” She gestured at herself, at the practical clothes and severe hairstyle. “This.”

“This is pretty incredible too.”

She looked up at me from across the table with wet eyes. I felt something crack open in my chest. It was so unfamiliar it took me a second to process the feeling. It wasn’t the pull of attraction or the heat of wanting someone. This was different. Deeper.

“Hey,” I said quietly.

She laughed, clearly embarrassed. She pressed her fingers under her eyes. “Don’t.”

“I’m not doing anything. I’m just checking in with you.”

“You’re looking at me like that.” She shook her head.

“Like what?”

Krista didn’t answer with words. She leaned in and kissed me. Her hand came up to my jaw and I let her take what she wanted. She controlled the tempo in that moment.

When she pulled back, her eyes were still glassy.

“Thank you,” she said.