“I didn’t tell you.” Heath put his phone in his pocket without listening to Dylan’s message. “You okay with it?”
I nodded, because I had to be okay with it. No matter what happened from here on out, Dylan would always own a huge chunk of my heart.
“Sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” I said. Forcing my game face back on, I smirked. “Let’s get this show going. Are you prepared to find the next Jimi Hendrix?”
Heath’s smile returned full watt. “I’ll be happy if we find someone who knows what a chord is.”
We stepped into the garage just as our first audition arrived. He let his bicycle fall to into the gravel before striding up to the garage with his guitar on his back.
“Hey, I’m Vaughn,” he said, holding out his hand.
Heath shook it, and Vaughn let his hand fall before I could. I raised my eyebrows at Heath who merely shrugged. This was my show now. Heath wasn’t going to say a word.
“Let’s see what you got,” I said, pushing Heath’s phone down when he raised it to record. Vaughn was going to have to win me over first.
Three bars later, he hadn’t. His chords were sloppy, and his fingering was all over the place. I needed a lead, not a rhythm.
“Thanks,” I said from my seat.
“We’ll let you know,” Heath added.
Vaughn glanced between us, then his head fell. He knew it was over.
“Thanks for coming.” I smiled as gently as I could.
Once he was gone, the next person showed. For five hours, Heath and I listened to good and bad. Nobody was great. We were going to have to settle for good. I hated that thought, but maybe we could turn good into great. One person stood out in that regard.
“Jeannie,” I said once the final audition left. “She’s it.”
Heath shook his head. “Maybe. We’ve got one more coming.”
“You said ten.”
He shrugged. “Had another one contact me earlier. Wanted a shot. I figured why not.”
“Fine, but I’m going to get a soda. I need some caffeine.” I stood from my seat and stretched my arms. “You need anything?”
Heath checked the cooler. “Shit. I ran out of beer. Grab me another, would ya?”
“You ran out of beer two hours ago,” I said, laughing as I went inside.
“Don’t get me one of Crystal’s light crap,” he shouted before I closed the door.
I laughed harder. Crystal and Heath had many debates about her choice of alcohol. It was hysterical. I was never a participant but a willing listener. Beer was not my drink. Alcohol by nature wasn’t my choice. I grabbed a diet soda and Heath’s heavy lager. My thoughts drifted to Dylan. After this last guitarist left, I’d wanted to ask Heath about him. I just wanted to know if he was okay. The stuff with his Dad was pretty epic. Hank had surgery in L.A. to remove the tumor on his vocal chords. It was benign, but his career was officially over.
Voices echoed in the garage. The next audition was here. I needed to get Dylan out of my head. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door, watching my step as I held two bottles in one arm while trying to close the door with the other. When I looked up, both bottles fell onto the concrete floor. Heath’s beer shattered next to my foot, soaking my flip-flop clad foot.
Dylan stared at me, a guitar case in his hand.
“You?” I asked.
“If you don’t want me here, tell me.” His voice was music to my ears. He stepped toward me. “But if there’s a chance....”
I stared at him, taking in his dark hair. It was slightly longer. His wide eyes, still so full of expressions, racing through every emotion in the human handbook. His large hands, his broad chest, his long legs. I just didn’t want to believe he was here, because if he was here...
“Cam?” He whispered my name, begging for an answer.
“Let’s hear you play,” I said, swallowing hard. I moved toward my seat. Dylan tossed a curious glance at Heath who sat beside me. I didn’t dare take my eyes off Dylan though. The apparition could disappear at any minute. I wanted to dream to play out. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Dylan shook his head and plugged his Les Paul into the amp. He tuned it quietly, the only person other Jeannie who did so. Then he began. I knew the song instantly. It was the one we wrote together, but he’d changed it. It was smoother, bolder, quieter. It had more power. I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees. My fingers played at my lips, stopping me from singing the song with him. When he strummed the final chord, the world felt as if he’d emptied it.
“How long do you plan on staying in town?” Heath asked. It was a leading question, one I desperately needed to hear the answer to.
“Well,” Dylan said, his gaze darted toward me before focusing solely on Heath. “I don’t know. You see, there’s this girl who broke my heart here. And I need to win her back. Once I do, I’m hoping we’ll head to Nashville together.” He paused. “With this new band she’s started, that is. So as long as it takes would be my answer.”
“What if she doesn’t want you?” Heath asked quietly. Another leading question, and one I did know the answer to.
“I think she does.” Dylan stared at me. “I found out the real reason she broke me. And I wish she would’ve talked to me about it.”
Broke me. He said I’d broken him. Not just his heart. I’d broken myself too. Swallowing hard, I stood and walked toward him. “It was ... I couldn’t leave my family.”
“I know. I understand.” He pushed his guitar behind him. “I would’ve understood then.” He took my hands in his. “After everything that happened with my father these past few months, there’s one thing I am more certain of than ever. You can’t live for somebody else.”
“But—”
“I’m not
