Side Trip(27)

Kevin nudged her. “You all right?”

“Yes.” She bit into her lower lip, worried. What if she couldn’t get back home tonight? Her summer would be ruined. She turned toward the door, wondering how she could find a ride home tonight without her parents finding out, but her gaze caught on the steel string guitar in the corner of the room.

And just like that, all thoughts of her predicament flew out of the room.

“No way, do you play?” she asked. Like a hummingbird to nectar, she crossed the room and stood over the instrument.

“A little.” He shrugged, sheepish.

“Will you play something for me?”

He paled slightly. “I’ve never played for anyone before.”

“I’m sure you’re good,” she encouraged. He’d made a point to bring his guitar with him. And music distracted her from the hole she’d dug herself into this evening.

Kevin scratched the back of his head and grasped the neck of the guitar. “What kind of music do you like?”

“Anything.” Classic, rock, alternative, jazz—you name it. She loved to listen to it. Anything except Judy’s music.

“Uh . . . all right. Let’s see. Sonic Youth?” He sat on the edge of the bed and picked at the strings, tweaked the knobs. He strummed some notes. Joy immediately recognized the tune.

“That’s not Sonic Youth,” she said, sitting beside him, impressed at his selection.

Kevin shook his head and kept on playing. He wasn’t just okay. He was good, like supergood. Her fingers danced on her thigh and her foot tapped the beat. When he finished, he casually draped his arms over the guitar and silently regarded her. Joy could only stare. She should say something, but words escaped her. One thing she did know: her crush was wicked talented. And for a girl who obsessed about music, that was everything. He was the most confident, lyrical, and attractive guy she’d ever laid eyes upon. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest, leaving her breathless.

Kevin’s throat rippled. He shifted uneasily. “That was—”

“Tom Petty’s ‘Free Fallin’,’” she blurted.

He blinked, surprised. “You like Tom Petty?”

“Love him. Bob Dylan, too.”

“That’s sick. Me too. What about Neil Young?”

“He’s so good.”

They both smiled and Joy felt the best she had all day. She’d never hung out with someone who not only had similar taste in music, but appreciated the classics like her. Most of her friends were into Dashboard Confessional and Blink-182. Current stuff.

Everything she did to get up here was totally worth hearing him play. She smiled shyly at Kevin, tumbling a little deeper in than a simple crush, when her stomach growled—loudly.

A flash of heat shot up her neck and scorched her face.

Kevin chuckled. “Hungry?”

No. Mortified.

“Starving. I didn’t eat dinner.”

“You should have said something. Plenty of food downstairs. Let’s get something to eat.” He stood, returning the guitar to its stand. He then swung open the door at the exact moment Judy walked by and Joy about fell off the bed. Judy abruptly stopped and backtracked.

“Hey, Judy. Look who made it.” Kevin opened the door wider and grinned at Joy.

Joy didn’t have a chance to hide. She barely had a second to process that her sister was standing right there, framed by the doorway.

Judy looked from Kevin to Joy. Her brows flew up and her jaw came unhinged.

Joy cringed. Busted.



Joy felt a hand on her arm. She looked at the hand, then at the man. Dylan had woken up.

“Everything all right?” he asked, his voice gentle.

“Sure, why?”

“You seemed far away. Thinking about your sister again?”

Joy nodded. All the time.

“Anything you want to talk about?”

She shook her head. She didn’t want to remember what happened that night, let alone talk about it.

Dylan rubbed her arm. “I get it. It hurts, right here.” He thumped his chest. “Jack was an asshole and I don’t like talking about him either. I wasted enough time dealing with his shit when he was alive, to say nothing about what I’m dealing with now that he’s gone. You wouldn’t believe what he’s making me do. But that’s not the point. The point is, I’m a good listener. Hit me up whenever you want.”

Joy looked at him with interest. “What’s he making you do?”

Dylan turned his head to look out the windshield.

A black pickup truck pulled into the lot. He glanced at his watch. “Right on time.”

Joy spotted the DESERT ADVENTURES decal on the truck’s door. “Should I be scared?”

“Not yet.” Dylan grinned playfully and got out of the car. Joy locked the doors and followed him across the parking lot. She repeatedly rubbed damp palms over her hips. She had no idea of what to expect.

Three men simultaneously exited the truck and Joy’s step faltered. They were tall, burly, and clothed as if ready for a day hike: blue DESERT ADVENTURES logo shirts, khaki shorts, and reflective shades. What had Dylan gotten them into? The driver approached Dylan and grasped his hand. “Been a long time, bro. How’s Chase?”

“He’s good. Working in London as we speak.”