Missing Dixie(65)

“Carl Andrews will not clean up his act. Not for social services and not for that little boy. I know his type,” I practically growl.

Dixie places her elbows on the table and her head in her hands.

Sheila pats her gently on the shoulder. “Regardless, I need to get to work so I can get this report submitted. I’ll walk Liam over to Mrs. Lawson’s and chat with her as well. Call me if Carl shows up or you have any questions.”

I nod and Sheila goes into the living room. I half-expect Dixie to break down and cry at the bleak news, but instead, she stands, eyes bright and heated.

I watch as she walks purposefully into the living room and leans down to Liam’s level.

“Thank you for camping in with us,” she says, smiling widely even though I know what’s behind the happy mask she’s wearing.

“Thanks for brinner,” Liam says quietly. “I liked it.”

Barely restrained pain ripples across Dixie’s features but she manages. “I’m glad. I’ll be right over here if you need anything. And I’ll come by and check on you before bedtime. Maybe we can play Mrs. Lawson’s piano for a bit?”

Liam’s expression darkens. “I’m not good at it.”

“That’s why we practice, silly. But we don’t have to unless you want to. I thought maybe we’d work on the song from the movie last night. Would that be okay?”

He nods. “Guess so.”

I step over and give him a light fist bump, which he returns more enthusiastically than I would’ve expected. “Later, man,” I tell him. “Thanks for the help with the s’mores.”

We say our goodbyes and Sheila leads him out the door. Once they’re gone, Dixie curls up on her couch, using my bedding from the previous night. She hugs the pillow tightly to her chest and I stand above her feeling unsure. This isn’t something I can fix for her. Not really. Even as much as I wish I could. But there is a glint in her eye and a determined set to her chin and I know that she has made up her mind to handle this herself.

“I’ve got some stuff I need to deal with today but I can stay if you need—”

“I’m fine. I’m going to get online and see what else I can do for Liam. Go do what you need to do,” she answers without looking at me.

“Bluebird . . .” This f*cking sucks. Liam can’t be over here because I’m here. I don’t want to leave her alone in case Carl shows up here or next door. But I do need to get my kit ready and take it to the rehearsal space soon and return my boss’s truck before he puts out an APB on it and me. And I need to call Ashley about payment arrangements, which is damn sure not something I want to do in front of Dixie. I meant what I said, though, and since being with her in Austin, I haven’t looked twice at another woman, nor do I ever intend to.

“Go, Gav. I’m good. Promise.”

She is and I know she is, but I hate not being able to be there for her when she’s upset—even when she does look ready to take on Carl Andrews herself. Leaning down, I kiss her lightly on the temple. Her eyes open and flash quickly to mine and I see so many conflicted urges in them, but mostly I see a girl who needs more sleep.

“I’ll stop back by later if you want me to.”

“ ’Kay,” she mumbles while pulling her computer into her lap.

I slip out the door quietly, making triple sure my girl is locked in safe before I go.





25 | Dixie

WHEN GAVIN LEFT this morning after the social worker visited with Liam before returning him to Mrs. Lawson, there was so much I wanted to say. All I actually said was thanks for staying and then I took a very necessary nap.

But as I start getting ready for rehearsal, I realize a few things. Some of what I have to say isn’t actually for him.

So I decide to find the person I actually want to say it to.

Once I’m dressed in jeans and a tank top donning the words JOHNNY AND JUNE, I give my hair the usual college try and slip on my boots. Palming my keys, I add my cheap gas station aviator sunglasses to the top of my head and call it good.

My cell phone screen lights up as I lift it off the counter. Dallas is texting reminding me not to be late.

I swear, you oversleep one time at Austin MusicFest and your brother will never let you live it down.

I ignore his message and pull up my Web browser in search of an address. Once I find it, I type it into my navigation app.

Okay, so I might be late.

But only just a little.

Downtown Amarillo isn’t huge but it can be confusing when driving. There are several one-ways going in the opposite direction and the navigation lady on my phone reroutes me more than once. Somehow I finally find the building I’m looking for and park at a meter across the street.

As I ride the elevator up to the ninth floor, where the sign in the lobby said her office was, my nerves start to play tricks on me. I can’t tell if I’m angry or nervous or both but I’m something.

A potent cocktail of adrenaline and estrogen floods my system and I’m a few floors away from a full-blown anxiety attack.

The lobby on her floor is all white from floor to ceiling, with a few colorful works of art on the walls. It looks, feels, and smells too expensive to touch. Feels kind of like I might dirty up the pristine furnishings just by looking at them.

A blonde with her hair in a bun sits at the large desk with the name of the firm on the front. “Can I help you?”