Dylan nodded, but he didn’t ask any more questions as he sped toward my house. He parked in the driveway, leaving room on one side for anyone else to pull in. The carport was filled like a garage with Dad’s old Buick that hadn’t run in over a year and bicycles without tires. And trash that hadn’t made it to the curb. Jake had neglected his chores for the last few weeks, and it showed.
“My brother doesn’t want to pitch in,” I mumbled. The shame settled in my bones, but I shook it off the best I could. There wasn’t anything to be ashamed of.
“Can I help?” Dylan asked, his eyes focused on the carport.
“I couldn’t ask you to do that.” I headed toward the front door.
The lawnmower fired up as I put my key in the lock. I spun around on my heels, almost falling off the narrow steps. Dylan drove it into the front yard and grinned at me. My mouth dropped open. What in the world was he thinking? His grin widened as he passed by the front door. He waved me to go inside. I just stood there, watching as he took a lap around the yard with that goofy grin still on his face. Shaking my head, I turned and went inside.
“Hey, Cam, sounds like Jake is finally mowing the yard,” Dad said as he tried to peer outside. We could only see the top of Dylan’s head through the window. “That’s not Jake.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Then who is that?” He struggled to push himself higher to see outside.
“Don’t worry about it, Dad.” I sat on the coffee table as I had every day after school for years. “How was your day?”
“Usual.” He pushed up on the arms of the recliner with his good arm. “He looks familiar. He your boyfriend?”
“No, not even close.” I tapped his knee to get his attention. “He’s just... someone I know.”
“Well, who is he, Pumpkin?” Dad stared at me. His blue eyes iced over, protective and worried. “Why such the secret?”
I sighed and put my elbows on my knees. “He’s going to help me be a better singer. That’s all.”
“Who. Is. He?” Dad stressed each word as if I was still five and had no clue what he said. It was annoying, but he didn’t care. He wanted information, and he wasn’t about to stop until I gave him what he wanted. And it would go faster if I caved. I just didn’t want to.
“Dad—”
“Tell me.” He leaned closer to me. “I need to know it’s not some boy talking crap, feeding you lies for ... you know.”
I did know. My freshman year a guy came to our church and promised me a record deal as long as I did what he said. He had wanted to take photos of me in his hotel room. Reverend Matthews found me before anything happened. I was lucky.
“Dylan Walker,” I whispered.
Dad stared at me, then he glanced out the window again. Dylan was far enough away that we could see his expression. His goofy grin still covered his face under his black sunglasses. He was actually enjoying himself.
“Seriously?” Dad asked, turning his gaze back to me.
I nodded.
“That’s... great?” His voice cracked it into a question. “Right?” He glanced out the window again then back to me. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, seriously.” I pushed to my feet. “I’m going to check the slow cooker.”
“Smells delicious,” he mumbled. He’d gone back to staring at Dylan, or what he could see of him.
Shaking my head, I walkeded to the kitchen to check on the roast I’d put on before school. It would be done in another hour, just in time for dinner. I preheated the oven and turned my attention to the laundry. After folding the clothes in the dryer and starting a load of towels, I pulled the trash bag just as the lawn mower shut off. Voices sounded outside.
The door opened before I could get there to stop Jake from letting Dylan inside. I’d been nervous about him seeing the inside but more nervous about my father’s reaction to Dylan Walker, his idol’s son, in our house. The oven beeped that it had preheated, but I didn’t move. Jake laughed as he led Dylan into the living room.
“Hey, Dad,” Jake said, smiling for the first time in months. “I found this strange guy mowing the yard. Says he knows Cami.”
Dad offered his hand. “Nice to meet you, Dylan.”
“You too, sir,” Dylan said giving my father a firm handshake. “Thanks for letting me mow your yard. It was fun.”
Jake snorted as he plopped onto the couch.
“I should be thanking you for taking Cam under your wing.” Dad smiled. Dylan flinched, but I hoped Dad didn’t see it. His smiles used to light up a room. Now it’s only half a smile with the left side of his face paralyzed.
“It’s my pleasure, sir,” Dylan said, all manners and nothing like the bad boy his dad made him out to be. “She’s got a great voice. It just needs some refinement.”
“Um, yeah, so we should go.” I didn’t like how they both talked about me as if I wasn’t standing two feet away. “I... shit, the biscuits.”
“Language, young lady,” Dad chided.
“Yeah, Cami, don’t be such a cretin,” Jake added.
I shook my head and bit back a retort. It took all of two minutes to pop the biscuits in the oven and set the timer. “You know the drill, Jake.” I kissed Dad on the cheek. “Love you, Dad.”
“Love you, too, Pumpkin. Have fun.” Dad patted my hand. I didn’t care that half his face didn’t smile anymore. His eyes still lit up. He was still the best damn father a girl could ever have.
CHAPTER NINE
Dylan didn’t say anything until we pulled into the theater two hours early for rehearsal. Then he turned in his seat and narrowed his
