Missing Dixie(40)

“It’s Gavin,” I say, absently while applying rosin to my bow.

“Yeah, I know,” Dallas answers. “Ideally Gavin will show. But I’m saying if Gavin doesn’t show we should hire the house band guy as a backup.”

“No, I mean the guy that sits in with them. It’s him. Gavin.”

Dallas’s eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously?”

“Yep. You got a plan B?”

“I can see if Levi’s guy might want to play with us. They got that contract with Sony and they can’t participate in any events sponsored by other labels as their band, but I don’t know if that applies to them as individuals. I can ask.”

“Couldn’t hurt, I guess. Just feels . . .”

“Like cheating on him or something?”

I nod. “Kind of. How’s the nursery coming?”

“It’s nearly finished.” Dallas derails my attempt at a subject change. “You ever going to tell me exactly what happened?” He stops tuning his guitar and waits for me to answer.

I shake my head. “Honestly, I think if the situation were reversed, I’d rather not know this sort of thing about you.”

Dallas winces. “Got it.”

“Don’t make that face. It’s not just about . . . that. It’s . . . he’s not . . . I can’t . . .”

“Gavin has demons, little sister. He just does. He battles them every day and some days he doesn’t win. I know you love him, and I love his f*cked-up ass, too, but I am your brother and it’s my natural instinct to protect you.”

There’s a hidden confession in there somewhere. “Dallas . . . did you say something to him?”

My brother doesn’t answer so I start packing up Oz. Either he can be honest with me or I can be done here.

“Wait. Calm down.” Dallas sets his guitar on a nearby stand. “I may have told him to stop stringing you along. I saw how hurt you were after your show the other night and that was bullshit. So I talked to him.”

“And?”

Dallas shrugs like his every word isn’t of vital importance. “And his mom showed up high off her ass and he had to deal with her. He picked her like he always does and always will, Dix. He could’ve called the police or a cab or had the bar security guys deal with her. He didn’t. He left. So I told him if he wasn’t going to commit and make you a real priority right now, then he needed to stop leaving you in limbo until he was ready.”

“Dallas, what the hell? It was his mom.” I’m slightly disgusted with myself for feeling relieved about this.

“It is what it is, Dix. He’s always sneaking back into the gutter with her instead of standing in the spotlight with us because it’s easier for him to hide that way. Until he decides otherwise, and it has to be his decision. You can’t force him into the light.”

“I didn’t realize you were so jaded. Jesus. So what? We just give up on him? You know I can’t do that.”

“We’ll love him and be there for him because whether he likes it or not, we’re his family, too. But we can’t put our own lives on hold while he figures his out. That’s just the reality. The band has a shot. You have so much more to offer than you’ve been giving and I think part of that is because you didn’t want to shine, either. You want to hide in the shadows with him but that’s not happening on my watch. So stand over there by the mic because, you, sister of mine, are going to be on vocals tonight as well.”

“Dallas.”

“Dixie.”

“I love you.”

“Love you, too. We doing this or what?”

A commotion at the back door distracts me before I can answer.

“Sorry I’m late. Traffic was heavy.” The door opens, sending a burst of light in behind Gavin.

Dallas puts his guitar back down. “Hang on and I’ll help you carry your kit in.”

I set Oz gently in his case. “I’ll help, too.”

My heart takes off in triple speed. He came.

He’s not here for that, Dixie Leigh. He’s here to play. Give him space.

We carry his equipment in without speaking but Dallas grins while they set up. “Glad you made it. Not gonna lie, I was pissing my pants a little.”

“Can’t have that,” Gavin says quietly.

He’s different. Even more withdrawn. Like he thinks his very existence is going to cause me pain.

He might be on to something.

A song lyric begins in my head and I want to write it down before I lose it.

Loving something, no, loving someone. Being addicted to . . . someone bad for you . . . it’s like a drug, like being hooked on love . . . the perfect poison you can’t get enough of.

The words are just coming randomly and I can’t sort them in my mixed-up head.

“Dallas, do you have a pen?”

“Yep. Always.” He tosses a blue Bic over and I catch it and uncap it quickly. I don’t have paper so I start writing on my left hand. Then up my arm. Then down my inner arm. I’m glad my tattoos don’t cover my forearms like sleeves or I’d be screwed right now.

Once I’ve gotten the lyrics down, I pick up Oz and look up to see both guys looking at me like I’ve gone mental.

“Sorry. Needed a moment. I’m good now. Let’s do this.”