Billie nudged his shoulder. “Get your stuff.”

“I can’t leave,” Dylan said. “The tour’s only half-done. I have a job,” he pleaded, desperate for her to understand. Dylan always let Jack down about performing live, but when it came to keeping his dad’s axes in top condition, Dylan was the best, and Jack knew it. It was one way—the only way—Jack didn’t see Dylan as a disappointment.

“Get your things. I’m not telling you again,” she said, handing off her duffel to the cabdriver.

“You’re the band’s manager. You can’t leave,” Jack protested.

“Watch me.” She opened the cab door. “Dylan,” she urged.

“What about Chase?” he argued.

Jack latched on to that. “Yeah, what about Chase? He’ll be by himself. The boys watch out for each other.”

“What’s going on here?” Uncle Cal asked, stepping off the bus while yanking up his fly. At least he had the decency to put on a shirt. “You finally leaving us, Billie?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, Cal. I’m finally leaving you. Dylan,” she snapped.

Cal smirked. “What did you do this time, Jack?”

“Shut the fuck up. Dylan, don’t move. Billie, you do what you need to do, but Dylan stays. I need him. He and Chase are the only ones who know our Fenders like we do. They know the right ax for the right song. I don’t have time to train another tech midtour, and I won’t risk my instrument in someone else’s hands.”

“You didn’t seem to care last night when that slut’s hands were—” She stopped abruptly, her gaze darting to Dylan. He stared at her, wide-eyed. Holy shit. No wonder Billie was pissed.

“He’s right, Billie,” Cal said. “He’s the only one who gets it right through the entire show.”

Billie glared at Cal.

“Let him ride out the tour; then I’ll personally put him on a plane after the last show,” Jack proposed.

“Please, Mom.” Dylan didn’t want to spend the rest of his summer break stuck at home. The school year was boring enough in Seattle.

Billie glanced from Jack to Dylan and back. Her mouth opened and closed until she crossed her arms. Dylan sensed she’d come to a decision, her battle picked, and he hoped it wasn’t this one.

“The last concert is an afternoon show. He’s on a plane that night, not a day later.”

Yes!

Hands on hips, Jack ground his jaw. “Done.”

“You don’t force him onstage, and he doesn’t set foot on that bus again,” she added, pointing at the bus he and Chase never should have ventured onto.

Jack held up his hands. “Whatever you want, so long as he stays.”

“You’d better keep your promise,” Billie demanded.

“I will. Get cleaned up, Dylan. We have a long day ahead.”