Leaving Amarillo(93)

I don’t look him in the eyes. “Does it matter? I’m staying. The end.”

He shakes his head. “No, not the f*cking end. Tell me why.”

“Tell me the truth about what happened while I was in Houston. Tell me and then I’ll return the favor.”

We stand there facing off until he mumbles. “I got into a minor accident. Now I’m on probation.”

“What? What kind of accident? And probation for what?”

I try to recall everything I know about probation. It isn’t much.

Tension tightens his jaw, and I can see the frustration building at my questions, but I don’t care. “I made some poor decisions and I paid for them, okay? It doesn’t matter.”

It matters to me. I’m about to tell him this when a news report I saw about a man getting arrested for leaving the state while on probation comes to mind. “Wait a minute. If you’re on probation, how come you’re allowed to leave the state?”

Gavin’s deafening silence is all the answer I need. It’s so quiet I can hear my own heartbeat in my ears.

“Tell me you have not been risking jail time every time we leave the state. And that you’re not about to risk it again.” My voice is eerily calm considering the fact that my hands are shaking.

“I won’t get caught. It’s not like I’m hopping state lines to traffic heroin, Blue—”

“Don’t f*cking Bluebird me, Gavin. This is not a joke. We did that article for the Indie Music Review. They took our picture. We talked about playing gigs in Oklahoma, and Arkansas, and Tennessee. And now you’re going to an airport full of cops when you’re not supposed to leave the state. How do you not see what a bad idea this is?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“That’s why you changed seats when you got pulled over.” I feel so stupid for not realizing this sooner that I want to smack my palm to my forehead. “You’ll be fine? Is that really what you believe? What if Dallas had been asleep? You would’ve been arrested on the spot.”

“Possibly,” is all he says.

“This have anything to do with your mom asking if you were holding? I’m assuming she meant drugs. Did she mean drugs?”

I can tell he thought I’d forgotten about this.

He runs a hand through his hair and looks over to where Dallas is loading his truck. “Sort of. It’s complicated.”

“Look at me.” I wait until he does. “It’s not really. It’s actually quite simple. You’re on probation and you shouldn’t leave the state. Tell Mandy to work something out or contact the judge on your behalf. You need to talk to your probation officer first. See if you can work out a deal where you can leave the state due to your job.”

Gavin shakes his head. “It doesn’t work like that. It’s not like I’m on some company payroll where I can prove it’s necessary. I tried. Believe me.”

“So you’re just going to risk it? Jail time?”

“Some risks are worth it, Bluebird. But I think you already know that. Try and imagine how it will look from your brother’s point of view. One day he’ll find out about us—when that day comes, I’d like to at least be able to say that I risked my own ass to have his back when he needed me. Now tell me why you won’t at least come with us.”

“Don’t you dare use what we did as an excuse to—”

Gavin’s hands come up between us. “I’m not. I’m just saying that’s a part of why I’m willing to do what I need to for my best friend. Now tell me why you won’t come with us. I know you’re hurting right now, I get that. But I don’t think being alone is going to help.”

My eyes meet his and I wonder if he knows that I don’t have any other choice. When he looks at me the way he’s looking at me now, all I can do is be honest. Even though I’m angry as hell at him.

“I’m afraid of holding Dallas back from his dream—of holding both of you back. No matter what he says, the fact is this guy liked what he saw when I wasn’t performing with you.” I shrug like I’m not being torn in two on the inside. Maybe this development that doesn’t include me is Mandy’s doing and maybe it isn’t. But I’m not whole, not fully myself, and I need time to grieve my grandfather without the risk of letting my grief debilitate the band. “And I need more time to handle Papa’s matters the way he would’ve wanted them handled. I’m not like Dallas. I can’t channel my grief the way that he can.”

The way he’s staring makes me think he’s about to make some grand profession about us or that he’s going to take my advice and stay, but he only says, “Be careful in this house alone, okay? Lock up good. Windows and doors. And if you need anything, call me. No matter what time it is or what’s going on.”

“I will,” I say, not knowing if that’s the truth. “Gavin . . . I—”

His lips crash down onto mine and I lift onto the tips of my toes, savoring this one last taste. My small reason to hope. My hands hold tight to his hips, clutching his waistband. He drags out the end of our kiss, sucking my bottom lip gently before releasing it.

“I’m still pissed at you, Gavin Michael Garrison. This is a bad idea. It’s not worth it. The right opportunity will come along when it’s meant to. Dallas will understand.”