Page 147 of Dirty Like Dylan

“You’re in love with Dylan Cope,” she said, sounding kinda defeated about it. Like she already knew this was a battle she couldn’t possibly win, so she was laying down her sword in advance. “The man you swore, just a few weeks ago, you didn’t even have a crush on.”

“I mean, at what point do you know you’re in love?”

“You know.”

I picked at the olives in my drink, stabbing them with the little toothpick they’d come on, unable to look her in the eye. “I know,” I agreed. “I’m falling for him. I know I am. I want to love him. I don’t even care if I get hurt anymore.”

“I do,” my sister said.

And the tears hit me; I sniffed and held them back as my throat constricted and my chest started to tighten.

“Have you forgotten about Johnny?” Liv asked, like she couldn’t resist making one quick jab, just to make sure I hadn’t totally lost my ever-loving mind.

“You’re the one who told me that Dylan is nothing like Johnny,” I reminded her calmly, still not looking at her.

She sighed, and I decided not to be mad at her for giving me a hard time. I knew she loved me. She really didn’t want me to be hurt.

“And what about Ash?” she asked. “You’re sure you’re not in love with him, too?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

The truth was, I didn’t even want to fathom it. Because I cared about Ashley, a lot. That much I knew, for sure.

“No, Amber,” my sister said. She put her hand on my wrist and squeezed, until I looked up into her eyes. “You know.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Dylan

I arrived at the studio feeling all kinds of distracted.

We were recording the new Dirty album at Left Coast Studios, and today was our second day. Yesterday had gone well. We’d recorded the title track, “To Hell & Back,” in a matter of hours, by candlelight, and it felt surreal and powerful and fucking amazing being in a room together again, just Zane, Jesse, Elle, Seth and me. Playing our music together.

Woo, our longtime producer, was producing the album, and Jesse was co-producing. If you asked me, it was shaping up to be our best album since our debut, Love Struck. I’d voiced that opinion to the rest of the band, and while they wouldn’t all admit that they were as sure about that as I was, I knew we all felt it.

We had a kind of magic going on in the room that we hadn’t felt, on that level, in years—now that we had Seth back, and Jessa’s input on the songs again.

I was as sure as I’d ever been that the album was gonna be killer.

What I wasn’t so sure about was what was going on at home.

When I walked into the studio and saw my band there, my drums, I relaxed a little. This was my second family. My second home. Other than being on the road, onstage, the studio was my favorite place to be with my band.

Of course, my band life had its limitations. Because the two people I cared about most weren’t here. They weren’t a part of this, and for the first time in my life that felt off—that someone I was intimately involved with wasn’t a part of this.

I’d been able to tour with Ash quite a bit, so he was often part of the picture. Sometimes I even brought him to gigs or events with me, even if the Pushers weren’t involved. He’d been my plus one more often than a woman ever had been. The Pushers were coming on the next tour with us, too; at least, part of it.

But what about Amber?

I had a shitty feeling about what was gonna happen with her once things ramped up with the band and promo got crazy and we took off on tour.

And she went to fucking Thailand or wherever without me.

When I met her, I didn’t even want a girlfriend. Now, I definitely didn’t want a long-distance one.

I wanted her.

But I definitely didn’t want to hurt him.

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