Just One Song (Just One... Book 2)

by Lynn Stevens

  Fresh tears flowed down my face. “Me too.”

  He kissed my forehead and helped me to my feet. Jake sat in the living room, staring at Dad’s chair. I knew what he was doing. I’d done it the first time I watched my father in frozen fear. He needed a distraction.

  “Come on, Jake.” I nodded toward the door.

  Dylan picked up on what I was doing. “Yeah, Jake, I could use some help tonight. Hang out backstage.”

  Jake shook his head.

  I stepped in front of him and knelt down. “Please? I would feel better if you were with me. I don’t want to be alone.”

  He stared at me for a moment before nodding.

  Dylan drove us to the theater, chatting as if nothing was wrong. He talked to Jake, not me, but I was okay with that. Actually I appreciated it. Dylan was doing whatever he could to distract my little brother. Jake needed it as much as I did. He was a little jerk, but I loved him regardless. Seeing Dad go through that, it wasn’t something he’d forget anytime soon. I sent Mom a text that Jake was with me. She didn’t respond.

  We arrived an hour before the show started. Plenty of time to get ready and warm up my voice. Dylan must’ve sent a message ahead about what happened. Crystal put her arms around me the minute I stepped into the dressing room.

  “Oh, honey, you sure you can go on?” she asked, leading me toward my chair.

  I sniffled and nodded. Crystal had started out as an antagonist, an almost enemy, but over the last few weeks, she’d become more of a mentor. I’d hoped Hank would fill that roll, but I was really glad he hadn’t. I didn’t want to turn into a bitter has-been.

  “Hey, Cam,” Heath said, pulling me in for a hug. “If you need anything, let me know.”

  “Can you...” I hated to ask and bit my lip. Family helped family and these guys had become a surrogate for me. “Can you help Dylan with my brother? Jake watched as Dad... He’s always loved drums.”

  Heath snapped his finger guns at me and strolled toward Dylan and my little brother. The rest of the band hugged me and offered condolences. It was almost too much. I plastered a fake smile, assured everyone I’d be okay, and finally sat down to get my makeup done. My hand shook as I picked up a brush.

  “Let me.” Crystal took the brush.

  She chatted about her two pit bulls, Rufus and Lucy, while she put on my stage look. I wasn’t really listening. The lull of the noise calmed me. I let it take over, and I just stopped thinking.

  Then Hank shattered it.

  “Oh, look, the princess finally decided to show.” Hank stepped into the dressing room in his faded jeans and a faded leather jacket, his usual concert wear. “Where you signing autographs outside the gas station? Or maybe you were outside some other theater showing off your review?”

  “Dad –” Dylan put his hand on Hank’s shoulder.

  “Shut up,” Hank snapped, jumping away from his son.

  “I was at the hospital.” My soft voice echoed in the quiet room. “I’m sorry I missed rehearsal.”

  “Hospital? For what? Cosmetic surgery?” His sneer ate at me.

  I opened my mouth, but Jake beat me to the punch.

  “Our dad had a stroke,” he said. Tears rolled down his cheeks unchecked. “So back off.”

  Hank didn’t break his stare down with me, but his features softened. I nodded so he knew my little brother wasn’t lying.

  “You’re walking a fine line,” Hank said in a menacing tone. His moment of humanity disappeared. “You upstage me again, you’re gone.” He spun on his heel and stopped by Jake. Hank knelt beside my little brother and shocked me with his words. “I’m sorry about your dad, kid. I hope he’s going to be okay.”

  Hank stood and strode out of the room, leaving all of us confused.

  Including his own son.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Dad’s stay in the hospital lasted another three days. He wasn’t too happy about it. Mom and I were always there. Jake couldn’t go. I didn’t blame him, but I did too. It was hard seeing our father like a shell of a human. It was even harder for him. He screamed at night. The nightmares were too much.

  The worst part was his voice. It sounded like he’d eaten gravel. The second worst part was Mom crying quietly on the patio so no one would hear her. I could though. And I was never going to tell her.

  While she cried alone, I cried in small bursts. Between the stress of Dad’s illness and the stress of the show, I was barely holding anything together. The only time I got to myself was the brief moments before I fell asleep.

  “You need to get out of here,” Dylan said a few days after Dad got home. We stood in front of my house near his car. “Cam, you’ve been running yourself too hard. You’re taking care of your dad, singing five nights a week, and not sleeping enough.”

  “I can’t leave him.” I ran my hands through my hair.

  Dylan took my hands, holding them down. “You can’t stay either. All I’m asking for is a few hours. We’ll hang out in my hot tub or watch a really bad movie. You need to relax, babe.”

  “What if...” I let the question fall away. There was no way I could think like that. If I did, I’d never breathe. I’d never live. Dad wasn’t going to die. I wasn’t ready.

  “You need a break. I get why you don’t want to leave him. I really do, but you’re killing yourself.” He let go of my hands and pulled me into a hug. “He’s going to be okay. You can’t stand over him like a freak.”

  I snorted a laugh. “You’re the freak.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Dylan kissed the top of my head. “Go get your swimsuit. The hot tub is calling your name.”

  “What about a movie?” I didn’t want to let go of him.

  “Don’t worry. I got that covered too.” He pushed me away. “I’ll be right here.”

  I ran into the house. Dad snored in his chair. His color had returned, but he still looked like he was halfway to the grave. I stopped beside him and pressed a quick kiss on his cheek. “I love you, Daddy.”

  His lips quirked into a smile. It didn’t last long, but it was there. It was nice to see.

  “You going out with Dylan?” Mom asked from the kitchen. She set a glass of tea on the Formica table and leaned on the back of a chair.

  “Is that okay? I can stay if you want.” The cold stone of guilt sank in my chest.

  “Of course it’s okay.” Her hands tightened on the back of the chair. “You can’t stop living your life, Cami. Your father’s going to be fine. I hired a nurse to help out for the next few weeks.”

  “How... how much?” I asked. Mom worried about money all the time. There was no way it was going to be cheap. There was no way she could afford it.

  She closed her eyes for a moment. “Enough. You let me worry about that, okay? Go. Have fun with your boyfriend. Be young.”

  I nodded, but the stone in my stomach grew into a boulder. Mom had sacrificed so much for our family. Before Dad had his stroke, she’d been going back to school to be a teacher. She’d dropped out to care for him then gotten the job at the restaurant. While she worked long hours managing the evening shift, they also gave her the time off she needed. The restaurant was a blessing and a curse.

  After I packed a quick bag with my swimsuit and a towel, I stopped to kiss Dad again. Mom had moved outside to the patio. She sat at the table, smoking the rare cigarette, and blowing the smoke toward the sky. She never smoked in the house. And she never knew I’d seen her.

  I closed the front door quietly behind me, making sure it latched shut. Dylan waited in his car. As soon as I opened the door, he started the engine.

  “You okay?” he asked as he pulled out onto the street.

  I shrugged, resting my elbow on the door and avoiding his glances. Truth be told, I wasn’t okay. My summer wasn’t going anything like I’d imagined. I was supposed to be in Nashville or L.A. by now. I was supposed to still have two best friends. I was supposed to be making a name for myself in the music business. None of that was real anymore.

>   Dylan put his hand on my bare knee and squeezed. I couldn’t look at him. Tears rimmed my eyes. Not just for my lost summer, but for the potential loss of my father. My gut told me he wasn’t going to make it long.

  “Cam, talk to me,” Dylan said.

  I sniffled and his fingers tightened on my knee. How could I talk to him? There was more going on than my family issues. I felt lost. When Dylan and I first started hanging out, it was all about being a better singer. It hadn’t taken long for us to drift away from that and into something else entirely. I didn’t regret how I felt about him. Dylan was amazing in so many ways. I did regret forgetting my path. It was time to get back on it again.

  Dylan didn’t say anything the rest of the way to his place. He led me inside, dropping my bag by the couch and pulling me into his arms. The kiss seared my soul. I wanted to drown in him.

  “I’ve missed that,” Dylan said when he broke the kiss. “I’ve missed you.”

  I smiled sadly. “I’ve been right here.”

  “What’s going on, Cam? I get the stuff with your dad, but there’s more.” He kissed my forehead. “Tell me. Please?”

  The tears I’d struggled to contain earlier broke through without warning. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry, babe. Just talk to me.”

  I pulled away from him and sat on the couch. The pressure broke me. I sobbed into my hands. The cushions dipped, but he didn’t touch me. That was worse.

  “What happened to me?” I cried. “I had a plan. Why didn’t I stick with the plan?”

  “What was the plan?” Dylan asked softly.

  “Leave Branson. Go to L.A. or Nashville or even New York.” I lifted my head and turned toward him. “I’ve told you this.”

  “I know,” he said, taking my hand. “Sometimes voicing it helps.”

  “But I stayed. I auditioned for a job I didn’t really want, but Dad was so excited.” I pulled my hand away and stood, pacing in between the coffee table and the fireplace. “He’s the one who wanted me to do this. He loves Hank. Dad used to play guitar. Did I ever tell you that?”

  Dylan shook his head.

  “He knows... knew all of Hank’s songs.” I stopped and wiped my eyes. “So I figured what the hell. Maybe I’ll learn something. Maybe it’ll be good experience and I could use it to help get a deal. Then I met you and...” I dropped on the couch beside him. “And it’s been amazing, but I’ve lost my path. I’m not singing anymore except for when I’m behind Hank. We don’t practice together. How can I get better when I’m not one-hundred percent focused on my music?”

  “What’re you saying, Cam?”

  “I’m saying I need to focus on my music. You said you’d help me.” I took his hands. “Please help me.”

  “What about us?” he asked. His eyes were guarded.

  “We’re still us.” I swallowed hard. “Right?”

  “Do you want there to be an us?” His voice was so soft I almost didn’t hear him.

  “Meeting you ... has been the best part of staying in Branson,” I said.

  Dylan leaned forward and kissed me gently. “Branson’s not so bad.”

  I almost snorted.

  “Do you want to play now?” he asked, pressing a kiss to my nose.

  I yawned. “Yes, let’s record ...” I yawned again.

  Dylan chuckled. “Maybe after a movie? You need to relax.”

  “For a few minutes. Then we sing?”

  Dylan stood and pulled me to my feet. “Come on. We’re going to be comfortable.” He led me down the hall to his bedroom. “Nothing but a movie on a king bed.” He tugged me against him. “Makes it easier to cuddle, too.”

  I giggled. Dylan wouldn’t going to push me into anything I didn’t want to and vice versa. I sat on the bed and waited. He smiled before jumping behind me. We laid across the bed with our feet hanging off the edge. Dylan turned on the flatscreen hanging on the wall. He didn’t ask what I wanted to watch, but he managed to pick the perfect movie. I snuggled back against him, sighing as four cars blew up on screen. The movie faded into the background as I fell asleep.

  When I woke up, I was tucked into Dylan’s bed. The shades were drawn, and soft ocean waves drifted from the surround sound. It was more comfortable than I had a right to be. I stretched my arms and checked the time. I’d been asleep for four hours.

  I brushed my teeth with my finger to get rid of the morning breath and set out to find Dylan. He wasn’t on the first floor or the deck, so that only left the basement studio. I quietly took the stairs. A guitar strummed on the other side of the door. I pushed it open. Dylan sat on the couch with an acoustic on his lap. He strummed slowly, singing the words I’d written to a different melody. My heart surged into my throat. I’d lost my path, but he hadn’t given up on this song. He paused, jotted something on a piece of paper setting on the arm of the chair. Then he played it again, changing a chord just before the refrain.

  The melody flowed and I let my voice flow with it.

  A cold June day

  A storm outside.

  The world brews with life.

  Lightning cuts the sky

  Thunder echoes inside

  As he dies.

  Daddy always said

  Life isn’t meant to be

  A permanent thing

  To miss out on

  Daddy always said

  Don’t forget to fly

  Don’t forget to love.

  But most of all,

  Don’t forget to live.

  Dylan matched my gaze as he strummed the final chord. “It’s not perfect, but it’s getting there.”

  “The lyrics could use some work.” I sauntered into the room, trying to seem cool and confident. Dylan put his guitar onto the stand as I sat beside him. I took his hand and kissed the palm. “Thank you.”

  “For what?” he asked as he pulled his hand from mine.

  I swallowed hard at the tiny rejection. “For the music. For helping Dad.” I stared into his ocean green eyes. “For helping me.”

  Dylan put his hand around my neck and pulled me toward him. His kiss was hard, passionate and so intense. I fell against him, losing myself to this. Wanting to lose myself more. Dylan’s other arm wrapped around my waist, guiding me onto my back. His body pressed into mine, pushing me down into the cushions. I wanted more. I needed more of this. His fingers dug into my neck. I pushed his shirt up, scrapping my nails against his skin.

  Instead of stopping me, he sat up and pulled his shirt off, tossing it who knew where. Then his lips were on mine again, his hips grinding against me and pressing his length to my thigh. I wrapped my leg around his waist, using my strength to bring him closer.

  Dylan’s lips skimmed down to my neck. His tongue leaving hot trails on my skin. Jesus, I wanted to throw my clothes off. I wanted to feel him everywhere.

  But that wasn’t what he wanted.

  “Dylan?” I said on barely a breath.

  He pulled back and stared down at me. His eyes dark with need. “Do you want to stop?”

  “Do you?” I asked.

  He closed his eyes and moved away. As much as I didn’t want to stop him, I knew it was the right thing. Dylan buried his head in his hands. I reached out to comfort him, running my fingers along the bare skin of his bicep.

  “Cameron,” he said as his gaze followed where my fingers traced his muscles.

  “Sorry.” I dropped my hand into my lap.

  “Don’t be.” He turned toward me and put his hands on my shoulders. “When I made that promise, I ...” He bit his lip and glanced at the ceiling before meeting my eyes. “There was more to it.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  His hands slid down my arms to my hands. “I promised myself that I’d stay celibate until I ... until I met someone I could fall in love with.” He smiled and brought my hands to his chest. “Until I met you, it was easy. But now... Do you know how many times I have wanted to break that promise?”

  My heart sunk. He didn’t
love me. If he did, he wouldn’t have stopped. I bit my lip, waiting for an explanation, a reason he didn’t love me.

  “When I heard you sing, I knew you were special.” He pressed my hands against his rapidly beating heart. “I didn’t want to just sleep with you. I couldn’t just sleep with you. So I proposed teaching, helping.”

  I pulled my upper lip between my teeth. Where was this going?

  “And I got to know you.” He leaned in until we shared the same breath. “You became someone so much more to me. Then I heard you sing at church and I knew.” He smiled sadly and shook his head. “I knew.”

  I waited for what exactly he knew, but he didn’t elaborate. He stared into my eyes waiting for a response. “You knew what?”

  He huffed a laugh. “That I was falling in love with you.”

  “Oh.”

  He let go of my hands and leaned back. “Oh?”

  “I... You...” He’s falling in love with me? Is this real? I wasn’t sure what to think. Or how I felt.

  Dylan stood and moved toward the sliding glass doors leading outside He stared toward the lake. “This is why I didn’t say it before. I knew you wouldn’t ... couldn’t...”

  “That’s not fair,” I snapped. Anger exploded inside me. I stood and stomped over to him. “You drop a bomb like that on me and assume I don’t feel the same way because I didn’t say it back. What an asinine attitude.” I didn’t know where this was coming from, but I rolled with it. Speaking my mind never did me wrong, and the honesty sometimes surprised me too. Because I did love him. I hadn’t allowed myself to think about feeling that way. Not with everything going on. Not with his promise to himself. Not when I knew we’d be possibly going different directions when Hank’s run ended at the theater. “You didn’t give me a chance.”

  “I didn’t give you a chance?” He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “I told you I love you and all you said was ‘oh’.”

  I jammed my finger into his chest. “Okay, so that wasn’t the most romantic response, but you surprised me.”

  “And you don’t love me back. It’s fine.”

  “Bullshit,” I said, and I grabbed his arms to pull him closer. “I do love you. I just didn’t think you’d even consider loving me. So I shut it down and ignored it.”