Halfway home, my cell rang. I didn’t even take it out of my purse. By the time I turned down our street, Dylan’s car was already there. He leaned against the driver’s door and stared at the house. His head was down, focused on something in his hand. Then he raised it to his ear.
My phone rang again. The sound was muffled, but it was loud enough to get his attention. He turned toward me, his arm falling to his side.
I almost ran to him, but my legs ached and my arm throbbed. It wasn’t his fault. I just didn’t have the energy.
“Hey, been waiting long?” I asked when I sidled up beside him.
He grabbed my face and pulled me against his chest, kissing me like he hadn’t seen me in a decade. I sank into him, reveling in how perfect we fit together. Too bad this wasn’t going to work. The thought yanked me away from him.
“Cam?” He reached for me again.
“I can’t,” I said. My eyes were dry, but I felt the tears in my chest. “This. Us. I can’t.”
“I’m nothing like him,” Dylan said, choking on his words.
“I know that. But...” How could I explain it? It wasn’t just about Hank. It was about our lives. Our future. Together, we didn’t have one. And I couldn’t go on loving him more each day if there wasn’t going to be a chance at a future. I was stuck in Branson. He was going home to L.A. sooner rather than later. And, yeah, Hank factored in. Even if I had the money to move to L.A., I wanted nothing to do with that man.
“I thought...” Dylan shook his head. “I love you, Cameron.”
“I love you, too,” I said, meaning every word.
“Leave with me.” His hands cupped my elbows. “Right now. We’ll go to Nashville. To New York. Just us.”
“I can’t,” I whispered. “I can’t leave my family.”
Dylan’s eyes glazed over. “I don’t understand. You were going to leave when the show ended. What’s changed?”
Everything. I shook my head.
“Or you don’t want to leave with me?”
Tell him yes. It will be easier. But I couldn’t lie.
“What’s going on?” he asked in a whisper. “Talk to me.”
“You wouldn’t understand,” I said, taking a step away and breaking all physical contact. “I just...”
“Cam –”
“Don’t, Dylan. Let’s just...” I took a deep breath and another step back. “Let’s just stop fooling ourselves. Love isn’t everything. Hell, it isn’t enough to put food on the table. It isn’t enough to keep a roof over your head.” I glanced toward the house. Mom loved Dad and look where that had gotten us. “I can’t leave. And you can’t stay.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded. “You’re lying to yourself, Cam. You can leave. You’re just too damn scared.”
“Scared? You think I’m scared?” I clenched my fists but kept my arms firmly to my sides.
“Yeah, I do. I think you’re scared to leave. I think you’re scared to stay.” He shrugged his shoulders, that cool mask of indifference covering his face. “I think you’re scared of what we might have together if you do leave.”
I stared at him. Yeah, I’m scared. I’m scared my mom and brother will end up homeless. My dad will be on the streets. I’m scared my family will fall apart because they can’t afford to live here. I’m scared I won’t be able to make enough to help. But damn it, I’m going to try.
“You should go,” I said.
Dylan pushed off his car and opened the driver’s door. He refused to look at me, but he didn’t get in right away. “I’m not going to wait for you to realize you’ve fucked up, Cameron,” he said. “If you let me drive away, I’m done. I won’t play your games.”
“This isn’t a game,” I said.
Swallowing my heart, I walked past the trunk of his car and headed into the house. Dad said something, but I didn’t hear. I went to my room, closing the door behind me. Dylan’s car started and rumbled gently for a few minutes. I collapsed onto my worn comforter and listened to his engine. The tears only came as he drove away.
CHAPTER THIRTY
I went to every restaurant and put in my application. Nobody was hiring at this point in the summer. There were too many college kids out for break. Once they went back to school, the tourist season would die off. The jobs might be harder to find. But restaurants weren’t the only places that hired people with little to no experience.
And I knew someone who owned a hotel.
There was still a performance that night. Despite how things had ended with Dylan, I wasn’t going to not show up to my job. Pamela had texted me earlier and asked me to come back. Not for Hank, but for the rest of the band. They had my back when Hank was being a dick. I didn’t want to let them down. She also reminded me of the contract I signed which required two weeks notice before quitting the show. And I needed the money. My family needed the money.
So I arrived to the theater thirty minutes early and went straight to the office off the lobby. Mr. Reynolds wasn’t there for every concert, but I was banking on him being there after Hank’s behavior the night before. He needed to be prepared to cover for Hank or kiss patron ass if the show went to hell in a hand basket.
I knocked on the door. There was distinct mumbling inside, so I waited patiently. Either he was with someone or he was on the phone. After five minutes, Miranda opened the door. Her mascara smeared under her eyes, but that didn’t stop her from glaring at me as if I was the devil and she was ready to smite me.
“What do you want?” she snapped, wiping under her eyes to stop
