Just One Song (Just One... Book 2)

by Lynn Stevens

  He dropped his arms and my hands were pressed against his pure form.

  “And I’m sorry I said ‘oh’,” I whispered as I ran my fingers over his pecs and down his abs.

  Dylan stepped closer with a smile brightening his face. “You’re not saying that to get me into bed, right?”

  “No.” I wrapped my arms around his neck. “But if that’s a bonus, I’ll take it.”

  He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on my lips. His fingers skimmed the bare skin of my arms and I shivered.

  Then somebody cleared their throat behind me. Dylan lifted his head and grimaced.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  “Well, at least I was right about this,” Hank said as I turned around. He leaned against the door frame at the bottom of the stairs. Anger didn’t cloud his eyes, just resignation. And exhaustion. He also looked much older than his fifty-eight years.

  Dylan’s arm tightened around my waist as I tried to step away. “What’s up, Dad? You normally don’t just show up somewhere unless you want something.”

  I glanced between them. “Maybe I should just –”

  “No,” Dylan said, squeezing me tighter. “He won’t stay. He never does.”

  “Besides, I’m sure he’ll just tell you what I said when I leave.” Hank strolled to the couch and sat down. He crossed his ankles and leaned back on the cushions where Dylan and I had just ... Thank God he didn’t walk in on that. “You probably think you already know everything anyway.”

  He was wrong. All I really knew about their relationship was how strained it was. Dylan didn’t talk about his dad much. His mom was a different story. I glanced up at his closed face. Before Hank had arrived, he’d been open and expressive. I pursed my lips.

  “Or maybe not.” Hank dropped his feet from the table and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Maybe I got this” – he waved his hand toward us – “all wrong.”

  “What do you want, Dad?” Dylan asked. His fingers dug into my waist. I tried not to let it show, but it was starting to hurt.

  “So he never told you how I met him?” Hank shook his head, a smirk growing on his face. “That I didn’t even know about him until he was twelve?”

  My mouth fell open, and I glanced at Dylan. He’d closed his eyes.

  “Cheryl used to be one of my biggest fans. She was only eighteen when I met her.” Hank grinned and kept his gaze fixed on Dylan. “She helped write some of my biggest hits. Dylan knows about that. What he doesn’t know is how she fucked my drummer.”

  “That’s a lie,” Dylan snapped.

  Hank’s gaze never wavered. Neither did his story. “She’d never tell Dylan that though. Cheryl and I’d been together six years by the time I caught them. Fired his ass immediately.”

  “Stop,” Dylan said without the force.

  “Why? You always wanted my side of the story, didn’t you?” Hank’s gaze darted toward me for a split second. “Might as well tell your girl too, so she knows what she’s getting into. The apple don’t fall far from the tree, son.”

  “I’m nothing like you.”

  “You’re right. You’re a lot like your mother.”

  “You son of a bitch.” Dylan stepped around me toward the couch.

  Hank shrugged. “It’s not a good thing or a bad thing, just a thing.”

  “I thought you and Cheryl were married,” I said, totally confused by this entire conversation.

  “Oh, we are. We have been since she was nineteen.” Hank sat back and put his feet on the coffee table. “We just spent thirteen years apart. She took off when she found out she was pregnant.”

  “She tried to tell you.” Dylan pressed his palms into his eyes. “She told me that she tried to tell you many times.”

  “Trying is a person’s way of saying they didn’t put much effort into it.” Hank shook his head. “I didn’t know. She hid you from me. And now you hate me. I get that. Cheryl’s a great woman who made mistakes. She’s the love of my life. That’s why I won’t divorce her. Had nothing to do with pride or losing my money. I loved her. I still do.”

  I felt like a fly on the wall witnessing the downfall of my boyfriend’s reality.

  “Look, Dylan, I wasn’t there. I get that, but you have to understand I didn’t know.” Hank stood and walked back toward the stairs. “We can’t change the past. If I could, I never would’ve let your mom out of my sight for a minute. And I would’ve been there for my son.”

  I listened to the stairs creak under his heavy steps. Dylan’s shallow breathing echoed each one. When the front door closed with a loud click, he picked up the chair he’d been using as support and dropped it hard to the floor. Then he did it three more times. Without looking back at me, he ran up to the main floor. It took a few minutes before I got up the courage to follow him. When I made it to the top, I wished I hadn’t bothered.

  “How could you lie to me?” Dylan screamed. “All this time, you fucking lied to my face. You’re just as bad as he is, you know that?”

  I stood in the living room, not sure if I should stay or leave. This was clearly outside my world. My parents had been together through thick and thin. Especially the thin, because that’s all we’d known for the last few years.

  “I can’t do this bullshit anymore,” Dylan said. “I’m done.”

  A door slammed down the hall. Dylan stormed into the living room, stopping when he saw me.

  “Do you want me to...” I pointed toward the front door. “You know, go?”

  He walked toward me slowly and took my face in his hands. The searing kiss shook my knees. “I’m nothing like them,” he whispered against my lips. “I don’t know ... I don’t know what I am, but it’s nothing like them. She admitted it. All of it.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  He pressed his lips to mine again. “Why? Why lie to me? Why bullshit me? Why me?”

  “I don’t know.” I pulled him toward me, hugging him tight.

  “All these years, I’ve hated Hank for ignoring me. He didn’t even know I was there.” Tears choked his voice. “The only reason he found out was I opened the door. That’s it. He came to see Mom, and I opened the fucking door.”

  I pushed us toward the couch and helped him down. Dylan settled in beside me, his hands on my hips. I pulled him down, laying him along side me. He pressed his nose into my neck, then his lips.

  “Cameron,” he whispered. “I’m nothing like them. I don’t run. I don’t cheat.”

  “I know.” I ran my hands down his bare chest. “You didn’t run from me.”

  “Never.” He kissed along my collarbone. “I do love you.”

  I pulled his head up and stared into his eyes. “I love you, too, Dylan.”

  He kissed me, pulling my shirt free from my shorts. My breath hitched as his warm hands moved along my skin, over my bra then under. I raised my hips to meet his. He slipped his arm around my back and lifted me onto his lap as he sat up. My shirt came off, then my bra. We were bare chest to bare chest. His lips moved down my neck, over my breasts, kissing and nipping each one until I thought I was going to explode.

  But as great as it felt, it wasn’t quite right.

  “Dylan,” I said, suppressing a moan. “We should stop.”

  “Stop this or not go further?” he asked as he leaned away.

  I pressed my body against his. “Not go further. Don’t stop kissing me.”

  “Okay. Pants stay on.” He flipped me back onto the couch, kissing down to my waistband.

  I dug my nails into his shoulders. Maybe I shouldn’t tell him to stop. My body said hell yes, while my mind said this was enough for tonight. I didn’t know what I wanted, and that scared me more.

  “Your skin is softer than silk,” he whispered against my navel. His nose skimmed along my body between my breasts until we were lips to lips. “And your tits are perfect.”

  I laughed at that. “Funny. They’re small apples.”

  Dylan kept hi
s gaze on me as he scooted down and took one in his mouth. I moaned, loudly.

  “Like I said, perfect.” He pressed his chest against mine and put his elbows beside my head. “You’re beautiful, Cameron.”

  Heat rushed to my cheeks. Nobody had ever told me that before. Well, other than my father and he didn’t count. Dads have to say things like that. “You’re crazy. I mean, you’re this gorgeous rock god. You’re so far out of my league, it’s not funny. But I’m so glad you chose me.”

  “I’m only crazy about you.” He kissed my nose. “And you’re so full of shit. You have no idea how many guys check you out? Look at that guy where we rented the kayak. He asked you on a date.”

  I started laughing, shaking my head. “He was just being nice.”

  “In. Front. Of. Me.” Dylan grinned. “That dude’s got balls.” His grin faded as his face turned serious. The intensity returned to his face. “It pissed me off.”

  “And you kissed Miranda,” I reminded him. The memory of that still stung. “I didn’t like it.”

  He huffed. “I only did that because of what’s his face at the bonfire. And she was hurting because of it.”

  “I know.” My hands fell from his back and onto his chest. I pushed him off me as I sat up. “But I didn’t kiss him. Eddie kissed me. You pulled him off me before I could tell him to back off.”

  “I know. That guy was gunning for some action even if he didn’t have a willing participant.” Dylan’s eyebrows furrowed together. “What a wanker.”

  “You were flirting with Lola two seconds after we got there.”

  He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and squeezed. “We’re idiots.”

  “Yeah,” I said, reaching for my bra and shirt.

  “Oh no, you don’t,” he said with a laugh. “I kinda like topless Cam. Maybe we can get in the hot tub like this.”

  “You mean you in your trunks and me in nothing but bottoms?” I pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “I wear a one piece.”

  Dylan fake groaned. “I guess I’ll suffer.”

  I slapped him playfully.

  “Come on,” he said, standing then pulling me to my feet. “Let’s change and try to forget the negative parts about today for a little bit longer.”

  “You’re gonna have to talk to him, you know,” I said as I followed him to his bedroom where he’d put my bag.

  “I know. Just not yet.” He sighed and glanced down at my bare chest then grinned. “You know, you can leave the straps down on the one piece.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  I didn’t spend the night at Dylan’s, even though he promised pants on. It was tempting. Being in Dylan’s arms felt right and perfect and dangerous. As much as I loved him, I was scared of loving him too. It was weird. I’d never met anybody like him before, and it was intimidating.

  Mom left a note on the fridge that she’d taken the breakfast shift. That didn’t make sense. The general manager normally worked the breakfast shift while Mom worked evenings. Dad snored in his recliner. The TV was still on. It was on last night when I got home, but I didn’t turn it off. Dad slept better with the noise.

  Jake came out of his bedroom and immediately lay on the couch.

  “You just woke up and you’re taking a nap now?” I asked as I pushed some of the mail to the side so I could sit at the table. An envelope stuck out with a red F on it. My eyebrows slammed together as I pulled it free.

  “You’re starting to sound like Mom,” Jake said. He turned the TV up and changed the channel. “Besides it’s summer vacation. I can do what I want.”

  “Final notice,” I mumbled. The return address was the mortgage company. I set it aside and searched the rest of the mail. There were several stamped with “Past Due”. I put them in a pile.

  “What’re you doing?” Jake asked. Dad snored as if to punctuate his question.

  “Going through the mail,” I said, faking the perkiness in my voice. “Getting rid of the junk. Mom’s been running behind on everything lately, so I thought I’d help out. You could at least clean your room.”

  Jake snorted. “It’s clean-ish. Besides I’m here all the time helping Dad while you’re out screwing your boyfriend.”

  My shoulders dropped. I should’ve been pissed about the screwing comment, but I was more disturbed by the other part. He was only fifteen and he was forced to stay home to help Dad. Mom was rarely home in the evenings. I was out at the theater. Dad could probably be home alone, but he wasn’t. Jake wouldn’t let him be either. My brother was a dick, but he cared about us. The nurse Mom hired wasn’t scheduled to start for a few more weeks.

  “You okay?” he asked, leaning over the edge of the couch with the remote still in his hand.

  “Yeah, sorry. Just thinking about tonight’s show.” I yawned. Getting home at one in the morning then up at eight wasn’t easy. It didn’t help that it took me a while to fall asleep.

  Jake nodded and went back to whatever he was watching.

  I looked at the bills again, then opened them one at a time. The least I could do to help Mom was write the checks. She could sign them when she got home. I stood and went to her bedroom. When I was ten, she started to teach me about money. I learned how to balance a checkbook, how much I should save, and how to prepare for the worst case scenario. Mom was diligent about saving for the future. She explained online bill pay and taught me how to log into her bank account in case of emergency. Well, if we were getting a final notice from the mortgage company, this qualified as an emergency.

  The checkbook was exactly where she always kept it. I opened the flap and read the register as I walked back down the hall. Negative fifteen? I stopped. How was that possible? Mom never let her account go in the red. The last deposit was just a week ago. How was all that gone?

  Dad snored in the living room while Jake let out a muffled laugh.

  We were broke. Beyond broke. I turned around and ran quietly into my bedroom, closing the door behind me. After powering up my laptop, I logged into the bank account. The savings was drained. There was only ten dollars left. The last of the money had been transferred out over a month ago. I moved back toward checking and verified everything against the register.

  Most of the checks were for Dad’s medication and doctor’s appointments. He had insurance, though I didn’t understand how everything could cost this freaking much.

  The mortgage company was going to foreclose on the house. The electric company was going to shut us off and so was the water company. I switched over to my account. Another thing Mom did when I was ten was set up a savings account. At sixteen, I’d opened a checking account after I started waiting tables in her restaurant. I’d planned on buying a car, but I realized that I would be better off saving to get out of Branson. So I saved everything except when I needed new clothes or stuff for school. There was enough money in there to catch up most of the bills. Mom would never have to know.

  But I wouldn’t be able to leave in a few months either.

  It didn’t matter whether I planned on L.A. or New York or Nashville. I wasn’t going anywhere if I did this. The savings would have to start over.

  I closed my eyes and sighed. There wasn’t a choice though. I wasn’t about to let Mom and Dad lose the house. Grabbing my checkbook, I walked back to the kitchen table and saved our house for one more month. By the time I was done, there was less than a hundred dollars to my name. If Mom needed more help next month, I’d have a couple checks deposited from the show. I could help again.

  If that was what I had to do, I’d do it. Leaving Branson would have to wait.

  Dylan picked me up for the show a few minutes late. He was sullen, but so was I. We drove to the theater with the radio turned up and no desire for conversation. He parked in his usual spot. Neither one of us made an effort to open our doors.

  “I talked to Dad today,” he said quietly. “Really talked.”

  “How’d it go?” I asked, picking at my cuticles.

  “He didn’t yell at me, so
that was a plus.” Dylan reached over and stopped my fingers from destroying my cuticles. “He’s been seeing a therapist at the Hopewell Clinic. He told me he’s been taking his anger out on me when he’s really still pissed at my mom for cheating on him.”

  I nodded. That was kinda understandable. My parents were devoted. I couldn’t imagine what it was like with Dylan’s mom and dad. Love and hate must be a fine line, I thought. That would make a great song. It stabbed my heart. Writing new song wasn’t going to help anything.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” He laced our fingers together and pulled me closer. “And don’t tell me nothing, I can see it in your eyes. Do you... do you regret last night?”

  “Not at all,” I smiled and debated about whether or not I should tell him about the money. It seemed pointless. I was staying in Branson. End of story. “Just tired.”

  “Cam?” he leaned over the console and brushed his lips across mine. “I know you’re lying.”

  I smiled sadly. “It’s nothing really. Just a lot on my mind. Let me sort through it, okay? Then we’ll talk?”

  He nodded and kissed me again. “This isn’t getting weird, is it?”

  “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.”