Free Always by Amanda Weaver Page B

“Justine gets comatose” plan. The identity of her unwelcome invader didn’t surprise her in the least.
    “Justine! Open up! We’re going out!”
    Ash.
    She scowled as she stomped towards the door. A week on the road with him had taught her many things. He was fun, wild, crazy, a walking good time. He was also spoiled, reckless, self-centered, and right now, a huge pain in the ass.
    “Ash,” she snapped as she opened the door. “I’m not going anywhere tonight except straight to bed.”
    Ash and Dillon stood outside her door. Ash leaned forward with a comical leer. “Wow. I am totally on board with that plan, Princess.”
    She planted a hand on his chest and shoved him back with a dismissive snort. “Alone.”
    “Uh-uh, my queen,” he said, snagging her hand and tugging her forward. “Dillon’s got the lead on some awesome local music and we’re going to go find it.”
    “Guys, I’m so tired.”
    “You can sleep when you’re dead. Now get your shoes on, Angel, because I don’t want to carry you all the way there.”
    Justine cast a pleading look at Dillon. He smiled, lacking all of Ash’s over-the-top charm, but having a thousand times more pull on her. “This band is supposed to rock. You should come.”
    The one thing that could convince her to leave the sweet allure of a quiet room and a soft bed was Dillon. She cast one more longing look back over her shoulder at the hotel room before Dillon drove the final nail into her coffin.
    “Come on, Justine,” he said quietly. “I really want you to come with us.”
    She groaned, hating her weakness where he was concerned, but also recognizing when resistance was futile. “I need my shoes. And a jacket. And you assholes are buying all my drinks.”
    “It would be our honor, Sweetness,” Ash said, pressing his hand to his chest. Dillon snickered.
    “Thanks for coming,” he told her. “I promise, you won’t be sorry.”
    Thinking she would be very likely sorry tomorrow, she turned to find her shoes.
    One of the local crew had pointed Dillon towards the best bars for local music, and told him about one place and one band in particular he shouldn’t miss, so they headed there first. Downtown Louisville was pretty unremarkable and at nine pm, mostly deserted. Justine doubted there was any live music scene at all, never mind one worth giving up her date with her bed. Ash and Dillon entertained her the whole way, though, so eventually her bad mood improved.
    Their deep connection to each other was clear, now that she was spending so much time with them. Ash was by far more talkative and outgoing. Most of the time, Dillon hung back and just watched him. A casual observer might think Ash didn’t even need him there. But Justine had seen him turn to Dillon in quiet moments, asking his opinion on everything from small things, like which number to sing for the encore to major ones, like what they should do about Japanese distribution rights. And when Dillon talked, Ash listened. That was, unless Dillon was telling him to slow down or take it easy. Then Ash didn’t listen to anyone. He charged through life like he had something to prove. Like his only mission was to suck every last dreg of enjoyment from his stardom now that he had it. Justine suspected he’d had no impulse control when he and Dillon were sleeping on bare mattresses in a crummy Hollywood apartment. Now that the world was his oyster, nothing would slow him down.
    Sometimes Dillon attempted to rein him in, to get him to say no to one more drink, one more line of blow, one more girl. But unfortunately not too often. Mostly he watched him with those all-knowing eyes and, much to Justine’s sadness, he tried to keep up. Dillon liked to party as much as the next guy on the road, but Ash’s hedonism wasn’t a natural fit for him. Justine could see it every night. But it didn’t stop him from trying. His place was at Ash’s side, no matter where Ash went.
    After a few wrong turns and a lot of