“That’s not an answer.” My nails dug into my palms. He slept around. A lot apparently.
“Damn it,” he said, setting his bag on the floor. “Dad’s got a lot of groupies. Most of them older.” He shrugged. “They didn’t mind having fun with me when Dad shot them down. I spent... I don’t even want to tell you this...”
“Keep going,” I said with a cold voice. My nails dug deeper.
“When I was sixteen, I started touring with him. And partying like him. I had my share of indiscretions.” He shrugged again, but he wouldn’t look at me.
“Meaning you had sex with a lot of people,” I said. It wasn’t necessary to clarify, but he acted like I was some sweet, innocent country girl who had no clue what sex really was.
He nodded.
“So?”
“That doesn’t bother you?” His head shot up and his dark eyes met mine.
“Why would it? It’s not really my business, and people have sex.” I dug my nails deeper, but I still didn’t feel any pain.
Dylan laughed. “Well, it’s been a while now.”
“What does that mean?” I asked, not sure where this was going.
“Don’t laugh, okay?” After I nodded, he continued, “I took a vow of celibacy over a year ago. I promised myself I wouldn’t sleep with anyone else unless it meant something. My therapist thought it was a step forward in my evolution.”
I tried to wrap my head around that.
“Look, Cam, I’m not telling you this to embarrass you or to bear my soul. I like you. You’re the first real person I’ve met in a long time.” He covered my hands with his. “I want to be honest with you.”
I turned my hands over. “What about the drugs?”
“Partying like a rockstar isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” He cocked his head to the right. “I experimented, but I didn’t like it. So I stopped. Don’t even smoke anymore.”
“But you drink?” I pointed out.
“Yeah, but not as much as I let people think I do. Every now and then, I need to blow off steam.” He lifted my hand and traced the crescent moon indentations in my palm. “Tense?”
I didn’t answer him. My gaze followed his finger around the half circles. They left a tingling sensation where I’d felt nothing.
“Cameron?” he whispered. “We’re friends, right?”
I lifted my free hand and touched his cheek. He raised his head, meeting my stare.
“Right?” he whispered.
I nodded.
He closed his eyes as my thumb drew circles on his stubbled cheek. I traced his jaw, his forehead, his nose, but I stayed away from his lips. As much as I wanted to know how soft they were, I knew that would only push me too far. Dylan didn’t want that.
“Who wrote the song?” I asked, letting my hand fall back into my lap.
Dylan opened his eyes and the intensity behind them scared me. In a good way. I regretted dropping my hand, but it was the right thing to do. He made a vow, and I wasn’t going to tempt him to break it for me.
“My mom,” he said with a hoarse voice. He reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered along my cheek. Then he snapped out of this trance we’d put each other in. He pulled back completely, his eyebrows slamming together in frustration or anger or something else entirely. “I’ll take you home. Tomorrow we’ll work on another song to record.”
“Why are you doing this for me?” I asked as he stood.
He stared down into my eyes, the intensity back tenfold. “I’ve told you before. You’re that good, Cam. You shouldn’t be singing backup to Hank Walker. You should be singing lead.”
I watched as he walked across the dressing room and picked up his keys. He believed in me. It was nice, odd, but nice. Other than my family and my two best friends, nobody thought I could make it. I grabbed my bag, letting the thoughts roll in my head. Sleep on it, that was what I needed.
Everything would make sense after a good long sleep.
I hoped.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Sleep was elusive. I gave up around six and wandered into the living room. Dad snored in his chair. He spent most nights there. I tugged the afghan Grandma made off the back of the couch and covered him. Dad snorted and pulled it to his chin with his good hand. I smiled, but my heart broke at the same time. Every day I was grateful my father hadn’t been taken from me. Every day I wondered how he would be without me around. Mom worked too much, and Jake wasn’t about to become responsible for anything other than his own life.
I popped a coffee pod into the machine. The scent filled the small kitchen. I inhaled deeply, letting the smell fill my nose and wake me up. After loading it with caramel creamer and sugar, I slid open the back door and stepped outside. The early morning was cool enough to make me shiver. I sat in a worn lawn chair and watched the sky go from deep orange to princess pink to robin’s egg blue. The birds announced the day. Fresh pine mixed with the morning dew, smelling clean and new. I loved mornings.
The door opened behind me. I turned around to see Dad hobbling out with a cup of coffee.
“No, I got this,” he said when I started to get up to help. There were only two steps down and no railing. Coffee slopped over the mug onto his hand, but he didn’t even rect as he took each step carefully. Both of his feet hit the concrete patio. Dad grinned, setting his mug on the small table and shaking the coffee off his hand. “Told you so.”
I laughed. “You did.” I stood and offered him my chair while I opened the other lawn chair. “I’m sorry I woke you.”
He waved his hand.
