Page 101 of Dirty Little Mistake

Pursing his lips, he nodded. "She has some things to take care of here, but she should be leaving in a month or so."

"How do you feel about your little sister leaving?"

"I'm glad she is going to get away from here, away from him, and to be real, we're all growing up and going our own ways. It was bound to happen sooner or later."

"And what about you?" I shifted, my gaze lifting to meet his. "Are you going your own way?"

His gaze flicked to the open ocean. "Yeah, eventually." His arm tightened around my shoulders. "In fact, I've been thinking a lot about it lately."

"About leaving?"

He nodded. "I was going to wait to talk to you until we got home, but..." My chest tightened, and my stomach churned, preparing for him to tell me he was leaving me. "But now is a good time." He pulled his arm off as he twisted to face me. "The band has a lot going on next year, including tours, interviews, commercials, recordings, and other things, and most of those are happening on the West Coast."

"So you want to move to the West Coast for the band?"

"I want..." He leaned forward, grabbing my hands in his. The rough calluses from his guitar strings scraped against my palms. "I want us to move to the west coast."

My breath caught as his words sank in. Move to the West Coast. Leave everything I'd built here behind.

"I know you're finishing school," he continued, his thumbs drawing gentle circles on my hands, "so we could wait until you're done and find a house while we wait."

"I—" The words died on my tongue. A thousand thoughts crashed through my mind—my classes, my gym, my friends. But beneath the fear lurked something else: a desperate want I wasn't ready to acknowledge.

"I know it's a lot to take in..."

"And what about when you're touring?" I cut him off.

"I want you to go with me if you want to or if you can, but I also want you to follow your dreams and not just help me follow mine."

Trystan was a huge part of my dreams since the first time I'd seen him, but other than that, I didn't know what I wanted to do or where I wanted to go. I guess I always just thought I'd figure that out later. Turns out later is now. "I honestly don't know what I want to do yet. I know that I'm done dancing after this year..."

"You're giving up dancing?"

"Yeah, I mean, there's no real future in it."

"If you love it, then you shouldn't give it up."

I shrugged. "I honestly don't know if I ever really loved it. It was just something..." I paused as memories of my dad flashed forward. "It was just something that felt like it kept me close to my father."

"There's still plenty of time to figure out what your dreams are. I just hope that you'll include me in them, and maybe a house on the West Coast."

I shook my head, the dread seeping in from the last time he'd asked me to tour with him. He didn't actually mean it. "Trystan, I don't know. I mean, you're asking me to move across the country for you, and how do I know you're not going to..."

"Ghost you?" I nodded, and he shifted to his knees. "Because I am head over heels in love with you, Cam. I know you have no reason to trust me this time, but I promise I will never let you go again if you do."

"I need to think about it." I didn't really need to think about it, but I wanted to give him more time because I honestly wasn't sure my heart could handle getting excited, only to be ripped out and stomped on again.

"Take all the time you need." He smiled. "I'm not going anywhere without you."

"Since you brought up school..." My tone dropped to a whisper, the words I'd held back all evening finally surfacing. The sand was cool between my toes as I traced aimless patterns, focusing on that sensation instead of the familiar vulnerability creeping up my spine. "I was hoping you'd come to my showcase in a few weeks."

The invitation hung in the air between us, weighted with years of empty seats and polite excuses. I forced myself to continue. "It's my last one, and I don't really have anyone else. Especially since Kaia and Jax will be so far away now."

The sunset painted Trystan's face in soft oranges and shadows as he studied me. Part of me wished I could take the words back—tuck them away where they couldn't be rejected.

"I'll be there," he said, his voice carrying the kind of quiet certainty that made my heart stutter. Then, gentler: "But what about your aunt and uncle? Don't they go?"

I shook my head. "No, they've never been to any of my performances."

---