Missing Dixie(3)

But I won’t. Because I can’t.

I had my chance. My one night. And even a little more than that.

“Wait for me, Bluebird,” he’d said.

Apparently I should’ve asked for the specific details of just how long he intended to make me wait. I thought he meant wait until he got back from being on tour with Dallas. Too bad he didn’t go on tour with Dallas. Lucky me, I got to find out the hard way.

I have seen Gavin Garrison a grand total of twice in the past three months. Once at a bar he apparently worked at, unbeknownst to me. And then again when my brother went missing and he stopped by to check on me—as if he actually cared. He didn’t even come inside, just stood on the porch and asked me to keep him posted about Dallas.

Adrenaline courses through me like an electric current at the memory of seeing him at the bar with another woman. Her perfectly manicured nails skating up the skin on his arm.

“You sure you’re okay?” Jaggerd’s voice yanks me from the past.

I swallow hard as he takes a step back. “Yeah.”

“When was the last time you had a tetanus shot?”

I try to recall if I’ve ever had one. I have. Once. “Pretty sure I was a kid. Thirteen or so. I cut my hand on a rusty car rim when Dallas and Gavin let me go to the junkyard with them to find a side-view mirror for Dallas’s truck.”

Jaggerd mumbles something unintelligible under his breath.

“What’d you say?”

His eyes lift to mine and something unidentifiable flickers in them before he blinks it back and answers. “I asked if you had any memories that didn’t include him.”

There’s a challenge in his tone, as if he already knows the answer and is daring me to deny the truth.

It irritates me—the unnecessary shade he’s throwing, the male macho bullshit, game playing of any kind. I’ve had enough of that for one lifetime. After years of letting my older brother and Gavin Garrison—and even Jag in the year that we dated—dictate my life, my feelings, and my mood, I’m finally in a place where I am my own damn person. A few months on the road alone and coming home to have my heart broken have helped me to grow up a bit. Turns out I’m perfectly capable of making decisions all on my own and one of them is not to tolerate being condescended to on any level.

“Why don’t you just go ahead and say what you mean, McKinley? Save us both the time and trouble of trying to decipher your doublespeak?”

Surprise widens his eyes, then he smirks at me with a look of slight approval in them. “Sorry. Old habits die hard.”

“Old habits?”

Jag shrugs. “I always felt like third runner-up. Hell, I was third runner-up.”

I frown because now I’m lost. “Meaning?”

“Meaning music will always be your first love. Gavin Garrison is your second and the one you’ve always wanted. I was more of a consolation prize—someone to kill the time with until he took notice of what was right in front of him.”

“Jag—”

“Don’t bother lying, Dix. I may just be some dumb mechanic but I know you and you have a terrible poker face.”

Sadly, I’ve heard that before.

“You were never a consolation prize.” This is true. Jaggerd McKinley was a little rough around the edges from a distance, but up close, he was genuinely a sweet guy. He took my virginity and he was kind and gentle about it. Granted he didn’t make my heart race or my entire body light up the way a certain someone else did, but he was a good guy and I cared about him.

“Uh-huh. What was I then?”

I rack my brain for an answer that’s honest but won’t hurt his feelings. “You were a very sweet guy who treated me with respect. And you’re still my friend and honestly, I could use a friend right now.”

He’s still standing close enough that I can feel the breath released by his sigh. “Oh, the friend zone. Guess I might as well get comfortable there, huh?”

The silence stretches out long and awkward between us. Jaggerd has thick, auburn hair that’s always about two weeks past needing a cut. It matches the scruffy beard that’s typically a few days past needing a trim. Beneath the rough exterior, though, he has bright hazel eyes, flawless skin, and a full masculine mouth women would stand in line to kiss if he’d pay more attention to them. He really is a beautiful guy. He’s just not my guy.

“What do you want me to say?”

His shoulders relax and he removes the cloth from my hip. “Nothing. It is what it is.” With a lingering glance at my bare hip, he shrugs. “I think you’re fine but go to the bathroom and rinse it out, then check the cabinet for some Neosporin. Last thing you need is an infection before your brother’s wedding.”

His words remind me why I came by. “About the wedding . . .” I sink my teeth into my lower lip and look up at him expectantly.

Jaggerd’s eyebrows lift noticeably. “You’re not serious.”

“It doesn’t have to be a date date. I just don’t want to go alone.”

“Because he’ll be there?”

I sigh harder than necessary. “Yes and no. He’s in it. And I imagine he’ll have . . . someone.”

Jag studies me for a full minute as if I am a complicated creature he can’t seem to figure out.