Page 105 of Playing the Backbeat

The last family to leave? Of course it’s mine. Emi comes barreling toward the bar, hopping up on a stool and leaning the entire upper half of her body over the counter.

“Dee Dee, did you see me? Did you see merock?” she screeches.

“Ems, there isn’t a person in this room who missed the way you shined tonight.” I bop her nose, before giving her my own imaginary drum solo. She giggles and my heart bursts at the sound. Just when I thought I couldn’t be more grateful for Dylan, she smiles, almost a shyness taking over my niece’s face. That can’t be right though…not for her.

“I made a new friend this week. Candice plays the keyboard. She’s so cool, and her mom said we could set up a play date this weekend.”

Making friends is hard at any age. But once you’ve caught the attention of someone who intentionally makes your life harder, the pressure of putting yourself out there in the hopes of connecting with other people intensifies. Knowing what thismoment would have meant to me at Emi’s age—knowing what it means to her now—well, fuck. I’m crying all over again.

“I’m so glad you found a friend in all of this. Especially one that jams as well as you do.” I throw up therock onsymbol when Morgan and Kai join us.

“I guess the garage needs cleared out now. We’ll need to be ready for the band hangouts,” Morgan says, her eyes lit with amusement.

Emi’s jaw hits the floor. “Mom…are you serious?”

Morgan rocks her head from side to side. “We’ll give it some time. See if you still enjoy playing in a few months. Then I think we’ll know if it’s a good fit for you.”

She screams and jumps into her mom’s arms, and I catch Morgan’s smile over Emi’s shoulder as she swings her in a big circle.

“I could use some help getting things set up. Think you could ask your boyfriend for the assist?” Kai asks, nodding toward Dylan, who’s cleaning up the stage, looping a cable around his elbow and palm.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I say on instinct.

“We’ll give it some time. Then I think we’ll know that he’s a good fit for you,” Morgan says, parroting her answer to Emi almost exactly. I roll my eyes.

“Mothering one soul is enough responsibility. You don’t need to watch out for mine too,” I say.

“But I always will,” Morgan says, letting Kai take Emi from her arms. She meets me at the entrance to the bar and gives me a quick hug before they head home.

I attempt to focus on my closing duties behind the bar, but that becomes infinitely more difficult when I realize Dylan and I are now alone…the only two people left in the Bridge.

I shut my eyes and breathe, taking a moment to remind myself of everything I wanted, everything I felt when I was talking toCarissa. I wanted to fix things between Dylan and me. I needed to.

And then Dylan nearly ripped my heart out by facing his own fears tonight. If he can do it, so can I.

I swallow, the knot forming in my throat making it difficult, until I glance at Dylan and find him watching me, still standing on stage, hands tucked in his pockets. I grab my bag and make my way to the stage, climbing the few steps to join him.

“This shift did not go as expected,” I joke, and Dylan chuckles, dropping his head before studying me.

“I wanted to surprise you. And now I need to thank you.”

“Why?” I ask, confused. “I didn’t help with any of this.”

“It wouldn’t have happened at all if it weren’t for you. I wouldn’t have been brave enough to finally chase the dream I’ve been building in my mind for the last few years. Ed might not have had a change of heart about selling to me if it weren’t for you pushing me to do this. To fight for what I want.”

“I think Vicki had a hand in getting him here tonight.”

“Her raise takes effect tomorrow.”

I laugh and nod. “Good. Good.”

His expression sobers. “I’m sorry. I was wrong to move out—” he starts, wringing his hands together. Even from here, I can see they’re dry, cracking along his knuckles, the skin red and irritated. I pull one of his hands into mine, softly rubbing my thumb along his skin.

“No, Dylan. It’s okay. I understand—”

“I didn’t fight for us. I put the pressure on you to make yourself vulnerable without being willing to do the same. I spend a lot of time battling the thoughts in my head…the ones telling me that things won’t work out. Mapping out the worst-case scenario. It keeps me from taking certain risks, but I’m tired of missing out on the things I want most.”

“What do you want most?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. I drop his hand, eager and terrified to hear his answer.