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
