Always (16 page)

In the end, she caved, scrolling to his name and hitting send. It was after one in the morning, but she wasn’t concerned about waking him. Dillon was always up. The only worry was disturbing him in the midst of something she’d rather not know about.

He answered on the second ring, sounding relatively sober.

“Hey, you. How’s it going?”

She let out a sigh. “Paolo’s leaving the band.”

“What? Did David kick him out or something?”

“No, he’s just… done. Moving to Boulder with his brother.”

“Hey, it’ll be fine. You guys will run an ad and audition some people. You’ll find another bass player in no time. Don’t sweat it.”

She swallowed around a sudden rush of emotion, feeling near her breaking point. Dillon sensed it through the phone.

“What’s really going on, Justine?”

“I don’t know. It just feels like we’re falling apart and I don’t know what to do.”

He paused before replying. “Where are you now?”

“In my car behind The Palm. We just finished our gig.”

“You’re by yourself? In that neighborhood? Get the hell out of there. Look, I’m at home. Just come over and we’ll talk.”

Justine hesitated. It was tempting. Way too tempting. Alone with Dillon at his house. She’d avoided seeing him in those kinds of situations since they’d come home. They met up at bars or concerts, always in crowds. But she didn’t want to go home and she didn’t want to be alone, not tonight.

“Okay.”

Dillon’s house was almost as bare as it had been the first time she’d been there. There was a couch in the living room now, looking small and adrift in the cavernous room. He’d gotten a TV and it was mounted on the wall. The stereo still sat on the floor, as did that one lonely lamp, still struggling to light the room.

“I like what you’ve done in here,” she quipped, dropping her bag on the bar.

He chuckled. “It’s not that bad.”

“Dillon, you still don’t have any furniture.”

“I just moved in.”

“You said that last time I was here and that was ages ago.”

“Has it really been that long since you were here?”

Justine did the math in her head. “It’s been a year.”

“Jesus, really?” He smiled and raked a hand through his hair. “That was a great day, you know? That day you came over and we listened to music, just you and me.” He looked up at her again. “I missed you on the road. Nothing was the same after you left.”

Justine inhaled, holding her fragile emotions at bay.
Don’t read into it. He doesn’t mean it like that and he never has.

“I missed being there,” she finally said, keeping her voice level. “I forgot how awful David could be one-on-one.”

Dillon chuckled and turned away to the kitchen. He didn’t seem drunk or stoned, so she counted herself lucky. But he looked tired. His hair was too long and his eyes were bloodshot. He still looked good to her infatuated eyes. Too good. Five minutes in his house and all she wanted to do was touch him. With a sigh, she dragged her eyes away and focused on something else, anything else.

Dillon rooted around in his kitchen. “Um… I have a beer. One beer. And I have a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. Sorry.”

She laughed. “Jack it is, then.”

He passed her a glass and she took a fast swallow, needing it for so many reasons tonight. She followed him into the half-lit living room and settled on the couch next to him.

“So talk.”

She sighed and rubbed a hand over her face. “Remember when you told me about David? Do you remember what I said?”

“You said it would poison things.”

“I was right. It’s out there now, even though he’s never said anything. I still know. And it’s messed up everything. He’s mad at me for not wanting him, I’m mad at him for feelings he can’t control, and I’m mad at myself for getting mad. Since we got back from the tour, Eddie and Paolo won’t put up with his shit anymore, so now they’re always mad, too. And now Paolo’s leaving. It’s so out of control.”

Dillon chuckled and leaned back on the couch. “Sounds familiar.”

She looked up at him, but he was staring at the ceiling, lost in thought.

“Are you guys having problems?”

Dillon shrugged. “Ash. You know?”

“Yeah, I know. Worse?”

He nodded. “JD and Rocky are fed up and I don’t blame them. The label is breathing down our necks. I’m producing the whole thing this time and I can’t even get the lead vocals recorded. I just… hell. It’s rough.”

Unthinking, she reached out for his hand. “I’m sorry. I was so wrapped up in my shit that I didn’t even ask you about yours. I’m a lousy friend.”

He squeezed her fingers. “You’re a great friend.” Then he thought about it for a minute, letting the realization sink in and surprise him. “You’re my best friend, you know that?”

Justine ignored the snick of pain that gave her. It wasn’t helpful to dwell on what wasn’t. “You have Ash, too.”

Dillon shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s going down this road without me. I’m trying to stay with him, but it’s hard.”

“Don’t let him pull you under with him.”

He looked up and gave her a rueful smile. “I can’t let him go alone, though. I’ll always look out for him.”

She sighed, once again hating Ash a little even though she was worried sick about him. “Yeah, I know. You guys will always look out for each other.”

“Yeah, we will. But we’re talking about you tonight.”

“That’s it. I told you everything. It feels like the band is falling apart and I can’t stop it.”

“You want the truth?”

She nodded.

“It probably is, Justine. But you know what? You’ll be fine. You’ll land on your feet.”

She took a swipe under her eyes, chasing away her tears. “I don’t know what I’ll do. Audition for new bands? Start over, I guess?”

Dillon shook his head. “I don’t think you belong in another band. You’re too big to blend into a group. You need to go solo. You should be front and center, always.”

She gave him a watery smile. “While that’s very flattering, I have no idea how I’d do that.”

Dillon paused for a second. His thumb was sweeping back and forth across her hand, but she suspected he didn’t realize he was doing it, or what it did to her. “I have a couple of songs for you to try out.”

“What?”

“Just some stuff I wrote that’s not right for Rovers. It would work better with a girl singing. You, for instance.” He smirked at her and despite how miserable she’d felt twenty seconds earlier, she felt like her chest might explode with excitement.

“You wrote me a song, Dillon?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. A couple. Four or five. If you want them.”

She launched herself across the couch and threw her arms around him. “Oh, my God, shut up. Of course I want them. You’re… I don’t even know what to say.”

He hugged her back, his arms tightening around her. “Don’t say anything until you hear them. You might hate them.”

She sat back and sighed. “There’s no way I’d ever hate anything you wrote.”

“If you decide to go solo, you need some material. It will get you started.”

“It’s amazing. I don’t know what will happen, but this… knowing you did this for me…”

“I want you to get out there and show the world what you’ve got. That’s not going to happen fronting David’s shitty band.”

“Thank you. Seriously. Thank you.”

Impulsively, she leaned in and kissed his cheek. His warmth and scent hit her like a wall. The scruff of his stubble under her lips set fire to her insides. His hair brushed against her temple. Every tiny, intimate detail of him overwhelmed her senses. The wanting swelled up so fast that her fingernails cut into her palms as she resisted reaching for him. She heard him draw in an unsteady breath through his nose, and there it was, the spark that always hovered just below the surface with them. She knew in an instant that she could turn her head and find his mouth and he’d kiss her back. His arm was still around her shoulders, the weight of it seeming to pull her into him like gravity. Her skin lit up, aware of every point of contact.

For a moment, she considered giving in and kissing him. What would happen if she did? For tonight she wouldn’t regret it. But what about tomorrow and the day after? She was so tired of fighting the pull that she almost didn’t care.

Then Dillon’s hand slid up her back and into her hair. Her breath caught.

“Justine…” His voice was barely a whisper, full of confusion and uncertainty. She felt the scrape of his stubble slide along her cheek, and the whisper of his lips. They trailed fire along her cheekbone and down, slowly, slowly, to the corner of her mouth. Nothing moved, not even the air in her lungs.

Then her own voice, tinny and electronic, shattered the silence. She pulled back in surprise, a foot of space opening up between them. Dillon was watching her, his face showing everything she’d heard in his voice. Desire, for sure. That part was plain. But there was everything else, too— fear— and she knew he was no more ready to start something with her than he had been on the road. If she did this, gave in and kissed him, it would be worse for her in the long run. They were friends. Best friends, he’d said. Letting it become anything more would kill what they already had. They needed to back up and stop before it was too late.

And besides, his phone was ringing. Now she realized that her electronic voice, hitting a high note was actually his ringtone. He must have recorded it on the road.

He swallowed and looked down at his phone.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. She sat back and looked away as he answered.

“Yeah?—Who—Where is he now?—Just stay with him. I’ll be there in twenty.”

He ended the call and looked up at her. “I have to go. It’s Ash.”

“Is he okay?”

“Just too fucked up to get home. The girl who’s with him called me on his phone. She doesn’t know what to do. Plus she sounds as fucked up as him.” They both stood and started moving towards the door.

“Will you be okay? Do you need help?”

Dillon had his hand on the door knob, but he stopped and pressed his palm to the door, eyes closed. For a second, he looked like he might fold in on himself and disappear. Justine reached out and touched his arm, so he knew she was there.

“Not with this part. I’ll deal with Ash.”

“Call me if you change your mind.”

He nodded, then looked at her again. After a pause, he started awkwardly. “Justine, back there—just now—”

Justine shook her head. “Forget it. We were both emotional.”

He stared at her for a long moment. As always, she couldn’t read those dark eyes. She couldn’t tell if what she saw there was regret or relief. It didn’t matter, because she already knew what she was going to do. She was going to take another step back and build her walls even higher. Whatever it took to keep Dillon from wreaking havoc in her heart again.

He gave her a tiny nod, his mouth tightening into a thin line, before he opened the door and left to rescue Ash from himself.

April, 2009

Failsafe rehearsed in the garage behind the house David rented with three other guys. It was a dump and the window was busted out. Late at night, random creeps wandered down the alley outside and sometimes got into fights. Still, it was free, and for a struggling band, free was important.

It was nearly midnight. Justine was huddled in the over-sized hoodie she’d stolen from Dillon on tour as the band argued, again, over the handful of people who’d auditioned to replace Paolo.

It all felt wrong, forced, pointless. But she couldn’t leave now on the heels of Paolo’s departure. It felt disloyal after everything they’d been through together. She told herself she’d stay until they found his replacement and gotten settled again. Meanwhile, the weeks ticked by. She’d made her mind up to go, but she couldn’t seem to find the courage to pull the pin.

“I think we should go with that guy from Jersey,” David said decisively.

Eddie rubbed his eyes. “That guy couldn’t keep time. Problematic for a bass player, don’t you think?”

David glowered at him. “He’s the best we’ve seen.”

“So we keep looking,” Eddie snapped.

David waved his hand at Justine. “You recorded his audition on your laptop. Play it again.”

She rolled her eyes at his belligerence, but she scrolled through the audio files on her laptop, looking for the right one.

“I think this is it,” she muttered. She pushed the sleeves of Dillon’s hoodie out of the way before clicking on the file.

Music filled the garage, but in an instant, she realized it was the wrong music. She reached for the computer, but David’s hand shot out and closed over her wrist, stopping her.

“What the hell is this?”

Justine listened to her own voice singing one of the songs Dillon had written for her. He’d brought her into the Outlaw Rovers studio late one night and recorded her. The sound was rough, but she liked it. And it was totally different than anything done by Failsafe.

She looked from David to Eddie. Eddie looked curious, but David looked ready to blow.

“Dillon wrote it,” she said, as off-handedly as she could manage. “I wanted to try it out.”

There was a long, loaded silence. David’s jaw worked as he ground his teeth together.

“So he’s writing songs for you now?”

Justine considered lying to brush it off, but he’d figure it out in the end. Besides, it wasn’t any of his business. She was free to do what she wanted.

“Yeah, he is.”

“And you’re recording them.”

She stared back at him, feeling everything coming to a head. “Yeah, I am. It has nothing to do with you, David.”

He lurched to his feet and kicked his stool across the room. “The hell it doesn’t!”

“David, calm down.” Eddie planted a hand on David’s chest, but he smacked it away.

“Like hell I will. She’s over there recording with another band without telling us!”

“I’m not recording with his band.”

“Then what do you call that?” David pointed an accusing finger at her computer.

Justine swallowed and looked down at it. She was proud of the song, even in its rough, unfinished state. She was proud of how she sounded. It was good and she knew it. When she looked up again, her mind was made up.