by Lynn Stevens
A week? I nodded. “Okay.”
“I’ve gotta go. I’ll text you later,” Iris said before ending the call.
I had the entire day to myself. No rehearsals. No show. No nothing. Mom had taken Dad to the doctor. Jake was God knew where, probably painting graffiti on an abandoned building. I needed to clear my mind, to think, to focus, to not think. I pulled on my hiking boots and filled an always prepared backpack with granola bars and food for a few days. It wasn’t like I planned on being gone long, but there were too many stories of people getting lost in the woods. And I’d almost been one of them. After four hours too long, I found my way back to the trailhead. I was dehydrated since my water supply had only been for a short hike. Since then, I never go out without extra water and extra food as well as anything I need for basic survival.
The front door stuck as I yanked it open. I lost my balance and almost fell to the floor. If it wasn’t for a pair of too familiar hands, my ass would’ve met carpet.
“Whoa, you okay?” Dylan asked once I regained my footing.
I brushed my embarrassment off my shorts. “Yeah. What’re you doing here?”
“I don’t know.” His eyes darted down my hiking outfit. “Where are you going?”
“Hiking.” I put my hand on the door, hoping he’d get the hint. “You never answered my question.”
“I thought we’d hang out, go over some songs.” He shrugged and slipped his sunglasses off his head and onto his nose. “So let’s go hiking instead.”
“I didn’t invite you,” I said, pushing him back with one hand while I closed the door. “I need some time to think and you don’t let me think.”
“Okay?” He dragged the word out. “Sorry?”
“I have a lot on my mind. I need to go someplace to think it out. Can’t you understand that?”
He nodded once. “I used to go sit under the Hollywood sign.”
I blinked. That wasn’t what I expected.
“Look, Cam, we need to talk. And we can clear the air. So let me hike with you. It’ll be fun.” He glanced over my shoulder. “Besides, you have enough stuff in that backpack to last several days. What’s one more person with you?”
I stared him down, but he didn’t flinch. His white Dodgers t-shirt hugged every inch of his chest, the humidity making it stick to his skin. I glanced down at his exposed calves. Who knew calves could be that sexy? Being around Dylan was not a good idea, but I really wanted to be around Dylan. Damn it.
“Fine,” I said. “But I’m not carrying your stuff.”
I went back inside and grabbed a spare pack, filling it quickly with a few necessities. I had enough survival gear in my own for two people, so I packed him the basics: water, filter, two water bottles, a tarp, flints, matchsticks, and food. When I came out, Dylan waited by his car.
“Where to?” he asked.
I’d planned on hiking the woods behind my house, but his car opened up the Ozarks. “Let me drive,” I said.
He tossed the keys. I put the packs in the backseat and climbed into the driver’s side. After adjusting the seat and mirrors, I clicked my seatbelt on and started the car. There was a nice, low rumble to the engine. I turned the radio to my favorite station and cranked it up. I wasn’t ready to talk just yet. We sang as I drove to White River Trails. The chances of us getting lost on these was slim, but it never hurt to be prepared.
I parked at the trailhead, turning off the engine. The sudden silence was as loud as the radio had just been.
“Can I ask you something?” He opened his door but didn’t get out.
“Right now, no.” I jumped out of the car. His question could wait until we were climbing the trail upward. The Ozarks weren’t the Rockies by any means, but they were still mountains. I picked the hardest trail of the three. We shouldered our packs and headed into the woods.
Dylan didn’t say anything for about ten minutes. Maybe the stifling heat got to him. Maybe the beauty of the trail did. Regardless it gave me a few minutes to think.
I felt like a shitty person. That was the bottom line. I’d let myself get lured away by Eddie. I’d let myself, insisted actually, that I drink too much too fast. I’d done all this on my own. My reasoning was flawed. And it didn’t matter why I’d put myself in that position. All that mattered was that I had. What Eddie did, that was all him. But I never should have put myself in that position. When he asked if I wanted to walk to the lake, I should’ve said no. That was on me. The rest, that was on Eddie. I stopped on the trail and turned to face Dylan.
“Thank you,” I said.
“For what?” His dark hair dripped with sweat and he looked positively miserable.
“For stopping Eddie.” I turned on my heel and started walking again. The white oak trees provided cover from the sun, but they also trapped the early summer heat. It was only June.
“Anything else?” he asked in a huff.
“Not really. It doesn’t matter now anyway. I have to deal with the consequences.” A couple of tourists passed us as they headed down the trail. The man looked like he was on the verge of a heart attack. The woman bounced down the path like she was in heaven.
“It does matter, Cam.” Dylan touched my arm and I turned around to face him. “I’d kinda like to know why you’re thanking me. Other than the obvious.”
My head dropped, and I stared at the trail. Pine needles dug into the dirt path, mixing with the gravel. I lifted my gaze and met his eyes. “It’s in the past. I have to figure out a way to make it up to her.”
“Why do you need to make it up to your friend? She shouldn’t be mad at you.”
I wanted to tell him it was his fault, but that would be a lie. It was all my fault. “My feelings were hurt. I wanted to numb them. I never should’ve walked to the lake with him. If I’d said no, if I’d faced the truth....” I shrugged again and turned around, heading back up the trail. Over my shoulder, I added, “Look how well my bad decision turned out.”
Dylan didn’t say anything for a long time. When he did, it was one word, “Sorry.”
“For what?” I asked, not sure if he knew that I was upset with him or if he thought that just the right answer to any uncomfortable situation.
“I guess for expecting you to just hang by my side at a party and not do any actual partying. I was kind of a dick now that I think about it.”
I stopped and he bumped into my back. “Yeah, you were. Especially if you thought I’d enjoy watching you flirt with Lola Tanter,” I said without looking back. “Regardless, I shouldn’t have used that as an excuse to drink so much.”
We didn’t talk the rest of the way upward. Once we hit the clearing, the valley below appeared. The pines towered in between the white oak trees, covering the mountain sides with varying shades of green. At the bottom of the valley, a small dirt road cut through the trees and up the other side. ATV engines revved and cut through the birds singing.
I took off my pack and sat on a small patch of grass and rock just off the trail with the best view. It was close enough to the edge of a drop off, but far enough away that one bad step wouldn’t send either one of us down the steep incline of the cliff. Dylan joined me a few moments later. We continued our silence as I unpacked my lunch and he did the same. But he didn’t eat right away.
“This is beautiful,” he said. The awe in his voice almost eased some of the tension in my chest.
“It’s one of my favorite hikes. It’s not too hard but not too easy either.” I drank half a bottle of water. “I love the Ozarks.”
“So why leave?” Dylan stared at the valley as he ate. “Why go to Nashville?”
“Or New York? Or L.A.?” I added because I hadn’t decided on a destination yet. “To get discovered. I’m serious about music. It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do.”
“You can do that here, you know,” he said, crumbling up his plastic bag and shoving it back into the back. “You don’t have to be in Nashville or New York or L.A. to get a deal.”
“You live in L.A.,” I said, pointing out the obvious.
“Technically, I live in Branson right now.” He finally turned to face me. “It doesn’t matter where you live, Cam. You can travel. And this place, it’s ... kind of amazing. And I am sorry for treating you the way I did. If I knew it would bother you that much, I never would’ve flirted with that girl. It was ... it was just a way to blow off steam in my own way.”
Our gazes locked. I swallowed as a warmth not from the sun filled my chest and slid down my body. My breath hitched in my throat. I wanted to touch him, but he didn’t want that. I repeated it multiple times in my head. He doesn’t want that with me.
I broke his stare and gazed over the valley. The Ozarks were amazing. There was always something to do outside. And Branson was amazing. I loved going to the shows and Silver Dollar City. But I wasn’t going to be discovered here, even if Dylan said it was possible. It didn’t feel like it. I needed to branch out. I needed to move on.
Even if part of me really didn’t want to.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Dylan drove me back to my place. He changed the radio to a country station. Whenever I sang along, he told me to sing it as loud as I could, to project my voice. When “Whiskey Lullaby” came on, he sang Brad Paisley’s part and I sang the Alison Krauss lyrics. He parked on the street but didn’t turn off the radio. I kept singing, staring out the windshield until the chorus came again, then I turned toward him. We harmonized together so perfectly. The raw emotion of the song mixed with the tension in the small space of his car. My heart raced twice as fast as the beat of the slow song. The last la-las were acapella and our voices blended so seamlessly that I wasn’t sure where mine ended and his began. When the song finished, Dylan turned off the engine. I swallowed hard as he leaned toward me.
Then his eyebrows tightened.
“Who’s that?” he said, pointing around me toward the front of my house.
I glanced over my shoulder to the small form sitting on the step in front of my house. I pressed my lips together and cringed. I so wasn’t ready for this. Iris told me to leave her alone. Apparently, that was a one-way street. “Miranda.”
“Ah. Rip off the Band-Aid.” He pushed his sunglasses up on his nose and rested his head on his seat and his elbow on the car door. Mr. Casual once again. “Talk to her, then grab that guitar you told me about. I want to go over some stuff and maybe record something back at my place.”
“Record?” I asked.
“Yeah, I’ve got an idea,” he said with a grin. “And I’ll be here if you need me for anything else.”
“Why don’t you just come in?” My voice sounded fine to my ears, but it felt so small in my chest. Maybe if he was with me, Miranda wouldn’t go all psycho. “I’d like to take a quick shower.”
His gaze snapped to mine. “I’ve got a Jacuzzi tub.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.” He lowered his sunglass and raised his eyebrows. “And a hot tub. I could use a good soak after that physical activity.”
The way he said ‘physical activity’ sent shivers down my spine. I pictured him in a hot tub. It didn’t take long before my mind went to making out with Dylan in said hot tub. I felt a different kind of sweat beading on my skin. “Okay. You sure you don’t want to come in?”
He nodded toward Miranda. “You need to handle this without me hanging over your shoulder.”
I reached for the door handle, opening my mouth to ask one more time, but Dylan wasn’t having it.
“Go, Cameron.”
I bit my lip and opened the door. Delaying it wasn’t going to change anything. Miranda watched every move I made. I grabbed the packs from the backseat. Slinging them over my shoulder, I walked toward my friend. Miranda had been there for me after Dad’s stroke. She’d given me a safe haven. When I was dumped right before junior prom, Miranda jumped in to be my ‘date’.
She didn’t stand when I stopped in front of her. Her foot dragged over the gravel path in front of the stairs. Her toes were painted black and stood out from her hot pink flipflops, a sure sign she was taking this hard. Miranda was all bright colors and neons until something, anything happened with Eddie. Then she let her darkness show.
“I’m sorry,” I said after several minutes of silence.
“I don’t understand,” she whispered. Finally, she raised her head to look me in the eyes. Her mascara wasn’t waterproof. It slid down her cheeks like partially dry paint dripping down a wall. Her hazel eyes were red from crying. She pushed her messy dark blond hair away from her face. “Please help me understand.”
The truth was I couldn’t, because I didn’t even understand why Eddie did what he did. “I don’t know how—”
“How can you not know?” she shouted. Sobs erupted in her chest. “You know. God, Cami, you know how I love him. How could you think—”
“It wasn’t like—” I started, but she wasn’t about to let me finish.
“Obviously,” Miranda snorted. She let the tears run down her cheeks.
I swallowed hard, glancing over my shoulder to make sure Dylan was still in the car. He wasn’t. He leaned against the passenger door with his arms crossed, watching his own personal reality show.
“Miranda, I really wasn’t thinking. That’s the truth. I... I was upset about something, somebody else. So I started drinking. He was there and asked me to go for a walk, so we went down the shore.” I cleared my dry throat. “I had too much to drink in a short time. He tried to kiss me and—”
“That’s your excuse? You drank too much?” Miranda stood and shook her head. “But you weren’t drunk enough to forget any of it happened.”
“No,” I whispered. “There’s no excuse for what he did. He forced—”
“Do you even regret it?” Her mouth quivered.
“Every minute.” I put my hand on her shoulder, but she shoved it off. “I’m sorry, Miranda. I hate myself—”
She nodded. “That makes two of us.”
As much as I expected that, it still hit me in the chest like a hammer. Miranda stepped around me and strode up to Dylan’s car. I knew what was going to happen, and I prayed Dylan didn’t go along with it. He pushed off the car and stood in front of her. She threw her arms around him, pulling his head to hers. He didn’t resist. Miranda kissed him like she was going to strip his clothes off right then and there.
And there was nothing I could do. As much as I wanted to rip her off him, slap both of them, Miranda was just trying to make me feel as shitty as I made her feel. It was childish and petty. And I didn’t deserve it.
Miranda pulled away. Dylan leaned down and kissed her again, gently.
I turned away, opening the front door and escaping inside before the sobs took over.
I took a shower and let myself grieve. There was no way Miranda and I would ever repair our friendship. Not after that. She wasn’t going to listen to me. She didn’t want to know the truth. I had to accept that. I towel dried my hair and braided it quickly. My short terrycloth blue shorts and plain white tank were more for comfort than fashion.
When I came out of my bedroom, Dylan sat on the couch. I wanted to throw him out after that little display. My chest ached. My eyes burned from the tears. I just wanted to wallow on the couch with popcorn and replays of The Voice.
“Thought you were going to use the Jacuzzi tub at my place,” he said as he flipped through a hunting magazine.
“I wasn’t sure if three would be a crowd,” I snapped, totally unreasonably, but he acted as if nothing had just happened when part of my world just imploded. My lips pressed into a firm line. Dylan’s’ gazed drifted down to my bare legs. “You and Miranda were getting pretty chummy out there, I thought you might just take her back to your place.”
Dylan laughed, and I hated him for it. “Your friend’s a good kisser but not really my type.”
That pissed me off even more. “I thought your type was anything breathing.”
“If that was the case, I would’ve bagge
d you the first night you were at my house,” he snapped back. His eyebrows crushed together.
It was like a hand slapped me down to the floor.
“God, that’s not...” Dylan said in a soft voice. He rubbed his hand down his face. His gaze met mine. He stood and put his hands on my shoulders. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it the way it came out.”
“What the hell did you mean?” I whispered, still too shocked to push his hands off me.
“Not that.”
I shoved him away from me. “You’re an asshole.”
“So I’ve been told.” He slipped his hands in his pockets. “Look, I kissed your friend because she needed it. She wanted revenge on you, on that dickhead who tried.... She needed an outlet. I’m not interested in her or anyone right now.”
Anyone right now. “So that makes your insult okay?”
He closed his eyes for a breath then opened them. “I have my reasons, Cam. None of them have anything to do with you.”
We stared at each other for several minutes before he turned away, rubbing the back of his neck. I wanted to throttle him. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to just make him see me. He wasn’t interested and I really freaking needed to let it all go. I needed to focus on the music.
“Let’s get going,” he said with dip of his head. “We can work on the song I want you to record.”
That was the kicker. I didn’t want to go with him after what he’d just said, but I needed the music. Even if Dylan was one-hundred percent asshole, he could help me. I could deal with him, use him to get what I wanted.
I just wasn’t sure what was in it for him.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Dylan kept it professional over the next few days. We worked on scales, pronunciation, harmonizing, chords, and enunciation for hours. Then we worked on a song. My throat burned by the end of the sessions. Dylan set up his GoPro and recorded us. As much as I hated denying the chemistry we had, it was so clear on the recordings. We sang together like we were about to make love in front of the world. During the last one we recorded, Dylan and I stared at each other the entire time. My body shivered when we sang it, but watching the video back, it burned white hot.