Missing Dixie(6)

It works for a little while, right up until I pull behind the building and see EmmyLou parked beside Dallas’s truck. She’s already here then.

Dallas will be glad she wasn’t late. Whatever it is, for him to call an emergency band meeting the same night as his rehearsal dinner, it must be important.

I pocket the keys to the truck and make my way to the back door of the repurposed storage building we used to rent out to rehearse in. When I open the door she’s the first thing I see.

My adrenaline, testosterone, and heart rate all rise immediately at the sight of her.

Dixie sits cross-legged on the couch, Oz in his case beside her. Clearly she had the same inclination I did about the purpose of this meeting. Dallas is standing across from her but his guitar is nowhere in sight.

“Now that you’re both here,” he begins as soon as the door is closed behind me, “let’s get right to it. We all have to be at the restaurant in about two hours so we don’t have time to waste.”

Dallas continues before I have time to check if any sign of comprehension registers on Dixie’s face.

“There is a battle of the bands at the Tavern two weeks from now and I went ahead and signed us up before the list was full. We haven’t played together in months and I know I should’ve talked to you both first, but time wasn’t a luxury I had.”

Dixie’s mouth opens slightly and I can tell this is the first she’s heard of this. Dallas puts his hands up and continues.

“I’m proposing that we give Leaving Amarillo one more shot, rehearse as soon as I get back from my honeymoon, play a warm-up gig next weekend, and perform in the battle.” He pauses, glancing briefly at both of us before going on. “But Austin MusicFest was like herding cats with the two of you and I won’t do that again. We all three have to want this equally, have to be ready to give it all we have. Otherwise, we can say to hell with it, and I’m going to see if Afton Tate wants to work together on writing and hope I can make a living writing songs for other people. This isn’t just about living my dream anymore,” he tells us on a heavy sigh. “I have a family to support now, one who I would do anything for—same goes for you two. Don’t say yes for me, say yes if and only if you really want this. If it’s your dream, too. If it’s not, I’ll have us taken off the list. Drill Sergeant Dallas is retiring so either you’re in or you’re out.”

He huffs out a loud breath and my eyes dart to where Dixie sits, still as stone with only her side profile visible to me. When neither of us answers right away, Dallas looks ready to throw his hands up.

“Well . . .” he prompts.

“I’m in,” I choke out before clearing my throat. “I’m with you. All in.”

I’ve been hoping for this moment since I saw the flyer in the bar, not that I was hoping for Dallas’s solo career to fail by any means, but I’d be lying my ass off if I said I didn’t want to once again be a part of the only thing that has ever mattered to me. I’m done lying, to them and to myself.

The silence takes on a sort of self-awareness, as if it’s as much in the room as we are.

“Dix,” Dallas says quietly. “I know it’s been a tough year. I know you’ve dealt with a lot on your own and whatever you decide, I will be okay with. I mean it.”

My heart feels like a lead weight in my chest when she stands. She lifts Oz but doesn’t remove him from his case and I can feel that she’s going to pass. On this. On me. Because of the pain I’ve caused her.

When she turns to face me I do my best to give her a “what do we have to lose” look and a hopeful shrug, but she barely registers my presence. There’s blind drive in her eyes; I just don’t know what it’s driving her to do. I don’t have to wait long as she starts to make her way to the door.

Her voice is soft but clear when she faces Dallas. “Is that all you wanted?”

He nods. “Yeah. Mostly. I had a request about the wedding but we can discuss that tonight at the rehearsal dinner.”

She frowns and I cross my arms and wait for her to pummel my already f*cked-up heart with blatant rejection.

“I need some time . . . to think . . . about all of this,” she says carefully. “I’ll let you know something when you get back from your honeymoon. That okay?”

Dallas’s shoulders sag slightly and his face shows his disappointment, but he doesn’t look surprised by her answer. “Of course. I understand. I want to say take your time but I’ll need to know something soon.”

She nods. “I know. I’ll have an answer as soon as possible. If that’s all, I’m going to head on home. There’s a little boy who keeps showing up for lessons, and I haven’t ever met with his parents, so I’m going to try and catch them before they drop him off. And I still need to get ready for the rehearsal dinner.”

Dallas gives her a quick one-armed hug and the next thing I know she’s breezing right out the door. Lessons?

“Guess you don’t get a goodbye,” he says evenly. “I’ll take that as a bad sign on the current climate between you two. I think it just lowered a few degrees in here.”

I don’t answer. Instead, I just sit back down on the couch and place my head in my hands. There has to be a way to help her understand why.

“She’ll come around, man,” Dallas tells me. “Enough to at least hear you out, I hope.”