“Never.” I felt tears building behind my eyes, but I fought them back. It wasn’t getting weird at all, but I also wasn’t leaving Branson. Last night, I thought about going to L.A. after Hank’s show ended. Dylan would be there, so it made more sense to go west instead of east. It wasn’t like I couldn’t sing country music in California. But it was only a thought. If I hadn’t... I couldn’t think like that. I knew in my heart I did what needed to be done, what was right.
“You sure?” Dylan’s normal confidence was gone, replaced with a raw venerability that only made me love him more. He was opening himself up completely to me. And I was shutting him out.
“Positive.”
Someone banged on the hood of the car, causing us both to jump.
Heath laughed. “Come on, lovebirds. We gotta get to work.”
Dylan flipped him off, but a genuine smile filled his face.
“He’s right,” I said, opening the door. “Those songs aren’t going to sing themselves.”
Dylan met me at the front of the car. He held my hand as we walked in together. There wasn’t any reason to hide our relationship from Hank anymore. I put my head on his shoulder.
“I love you,” I whispered.
“Love you, too, Cam,” Dylan said before kissing the top of my head. He hummed one of Hank’s love songs.
I’d known this thing between us was fragile, but now that I was going to be staying in Branson it was like walking a spiderweb.
Eventually it would break.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Hank seemed sedated during the show. His eyes glazed over and his movements were almost non-existent. The normally vibrant man had become human. Dylan made up for it where he could, but the crowd wasn’t there to see Dylan Walker. They wanted Hank and only Hank.
Unfortunately, Hank checked out midway through the performance. He walked off stage at a predetermined time, but he never walked back on.
Someone had to take over the song and finish the rest of the set. There were only two more songs, plus the encore. I could do it. I started singing the next verse and danced my way to the center of the stage.
Just as Dylan took over the microphone.
His voice was rough like his dad’s, unrefined. And sexy as hell. Why hadn’t I heard him sing like this before? I’d taken a step back when he caught my eye and motioned me toward him with a nod of his head. A smile teased his lips. Together we finished the song. The crowd loved it. Or they loved it better than Hank’s performance.
“Finish the set,” Dylan said as he strode away, strumming the opening cord for the next song.
I nodded, not thinking about anything other than singing. It felt right to be center stage. It felt right to let myself go. After the last time Hank bailed, I’d been so focused on keeping to together than I kept myself somewhat contained. I poured my heart, my soul, my everything into my voice. The theater came alive with the music. I fed off the crowd and never felt higher.
When the final song ended, we ran off stage for a moment, preparing for the encore.
Hank grabbed my arm. His eyes were still hazy, but the fury was written all over his face.
“This again?” he snarled. His fingers dug into my flesh. “You’re a piece of work, you know that? I step off for two seconds and you take over my show.”
“You were gone for fifteen minutes,” I said, yanking my arm back. That only caused him to tighten his grip. My knees collapsed under the pain. “Please?” I begged. “You’re hurting me.”
“Dad, stop.” Dylan rushed toward us, grabbing his father’s fingers and prying them off of me. Heath joined in, along with Crystal. “Jesus, what’s your problem?”
“My problem?” Hank snapped, whirling on his son. “She’s trying to steal my show.”
“She’s trying to save it,” Heath said. “You disappeared, and someone had to do something. Cami saved your ass.”
“And not for the first time,” Crystal added. She lifted her head. “You’ve been an idol of mine since I was a girl.” She shook her head. “What the hell happened to you?”
It was like she slapped him across the face and stole his candy.
Hank deflated. He dropped his gaze and headed toward the stage. “Come on. We’ve got an encore to perform.”
The rest of the band followed him out, but I hung back. I didn’t want to go out there again. My arm throbbed from where he’d grabbed me. It was too dark to see how bad the damage was, but it was definitely bruised.
Dylan ran his finger down my cheek, wiping away a tear I hadn’t even known was there. “You okay?”
“No, I’m not.” I stepped back. “I can’t do this again.” I took three more steps back before turning. “I’m done.”
The tears broke free on my cheeks as I ran to the dressing room. It surprised me and terrified me, but I wasn’t going to deal with Hank Walker anymore. I shouldn’t have to. He was hateful. He was always pissed at everyone, but it seemed like he preferred me as his target. And he was downright abusive.
I grabbed my purse and the few makeup items that were mine, shoving them in the small bag. The only thing that wouldn’t fit was a picture of my family. My chest felt heavy, as if the weight of letting them all down was already pressed against me. The money I’d lose from the show would’ve helped them out so much. And I was throwing it away.
Shaking my head, I walked out the door with the photo in my hand. The money wasn’t worth it. Nothing was worth the pain in my arm.
No job was.
I walked home. Not the safest thing to do, but I knew the streets of Branson better than anyone. I’d all but drained my checking account. An Uber would make another dent, and every penny counted at
