Loving Dallas(42)

“It’s in the past, Robyn. All of it. And I’m enjoying the hell out of our present so I just wanted to clear the air without having that hanging over us.”

“We were so young and I—”

His hands tighten around my hips, cutting me off. “I know. And you were right anyway. I needed to focus on my music and you had a full school schedule to deal with. It all worked out how it was meant to, just like you said it would.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and try not to wince at how much that hurts to hear. I tried to tell him about my mom, about why I really ended it, a few weeks after our breakup, but he wouldn’t hear me out. He avoided me anytime our paths crossed and practically shut down his ability to hear anytime I opened my mouth in his presence, which is understandable since I ruined his tour that summer. So maybe now isn’t the time to come clean, either.

But I wasn’t right. It was the wrong way to handle it and I know that now. It occurs to me in the form of tears pricking my eyes that if I hadn’t ended our relationship abruptly the way that I did, maybe the band would have gotten recognized sooner. Maybe he wouldn’t be Dallas Walker solo act and he’d be living his actual dream with his band.

“So Midnight Bay seems like a decent company to work for,” he says, completely changing the subject. I should probably feel relieved and yet I don’t. “You happy there?”

I nod, swallowing the guilt his apology unearthed from deep in my soul. “Mm-hm.”

“You’re a hard worker. They’re lucky to have you.”

“They might not agree if they knew what we were up to right now. It’s a family-oriented business with some pretty high moral standards.”

“My lips are sealed, sweetheart. Promise. Besides, I’d never let them fire you. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m a pretty big deal these days.”

I laugh softly. “Oh yeah? And is it as amazing as you thought it would be? Performing to huge crowds and being on this tour, getting to live your dream?” I trail a manicured finger in circles on the forearm he has wrapped around me while I wait for his answer. Part of me wants to hear that he’s happy, that he’s just as happy as he would be if he’d made it with his band intact.

“It is. Or at least, I think it is.”

I angle around so that I can look him in the face. “You think it is?”

He pulls me closer, kissing me lightly on the lips. “Yeah. For the most part. It’s like there’s been an exchange of sorts, one I didn’t realize I’d agreed to.”

“I’m gonna need you to man-’splain that to me, please.”

He lets out a small chuckle, then sighs and I feel his chest rise and fall. “It’s like I agreed to be this version of myself I didn’t expect to have to be. Dallas Walker. Performer Dallas.”

I don’t say anything as I settle back into the spooning position so he continues on.

“Dallas Lark is ‘real me,’ you know? The one that you’ve known for years. The one who harasses his sister constantly to make sure she’s okay. I had a cheeseburger and a slice of apple pie alone in a diner on my birthday and realized that I was actually homesick for a place I’d been planning to leave since the day I arrived. But nobody really knows that guy—the one who has pie alone or gets to come back to you after each show and has the pleasure and privilege of tasting and touching you, of filling you and watching you come undone while I—”

“Dallas!” I call out, interrupting him suddenly. “I get the picture. Either move on or we’re not going to finish this conversation.”

He laughs low in my ear when I wiggle my backside against him.

“I don’t know. It’s just, I didn’t realize that I’d have to cut myself in half, be the two different guys. But that’s the price, apparently. I lose my last name but I get to live my dream every night. I don’t know if it’s an even exchange either way.”

My fingers aren’t tracing arbitrary circles anymore. They’re following the intricate lines of the tattoo that covers his inner forearm. The one that says “Lark” in script.

“Promise me something,” I say so low I don’t know if he can hear me. “Promise me no matter what, you’ll never lose that guy, the one you really are.”

His arms tighten around me like a reverse hug and I’m not sure which one of us needs it more.

“I’ll try not to.”





25 | Dallas

NOT GOING TO MAKE YOUR SHOW THIS WEEKEND. HAVE TO WORK. Couldn’t get anyone to trade shifts. Sorry, man.

Gavin’s text reads like a load of bullshit.

I heavily suspect the coward is avoiding my sister, but I’ve vowed to let her be a big girl and not interfere with her personal life so I text him back that I understand and that I hope he can drop by the after party.

After five straight weeks on the road, we’re playing in Dallas and it feels kind of good to be home or close to home at least. It’s nice to see familiar landmarks and highways anyway.

Today I’m doing radio interviews in Dallas. I text Dixie while I wait in the lobby of KGBX, reminding her that her and Robyn’s mom’s tickets will be at will-call and that the backstage passes will be with them.

“Dallas Walker,” a rail-thin slip of a woman in a pencil skirt calls out. “They’re ready for you. Come with me.”