“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.
“Tell you what, I’ll come to the wedding,” he tells me on a sigh. “On one condition,” he clarifies when I grin at him. I nod and he continues. “We can ride together but if either of us decides to leave with someone else, no hard feelings.”
“So I’ll be your wingman?” I can’t help but laugh.
“More like a wingwoman,” he says, nudging me gently. “But I’m betting it will be you I lose to someone else—not the other way around.”
There is disappointment etched into a forced smile on his face. “Jag,” I whine softly. “Please don’t—”
“I’m not,” he says, holding both hands up. “Just be careful, please. Garrison is trouble and he’ll never be good enough for you as far as I’m concerned. But I’ll mind my own business.” He nods toward my hip. “Except about that. Go clean that up, please.”
“Going,” I say, tossing the bloody rag in the dirty pile before I head into the bathroom.
While I’m cleaning out my wound and trying not to pass out, I think about what he said. Why is it people are always telling you you’re too good for the one you can’t have? I’ve never thought of Gavin as someone I was better than—for that matter, I’ve never considered myself better than anyone. We’re all made of the same stuff—just some of us were dealt different cards. Gavin got a shitty set of cards and my deck wasn’t all that great, but somehow, when we’re together, none of that matters. Dallas, Gavin, and I have always been a family. Now that Dallas has Robyn and a baby on the way, he has his own family and I feel like I’m just . . . existing. Being with Gavin was the last time I felt truly alive—like I finally belonged where I was meant to be. In his arms. But like all happiness, it was fleeting.
He was here. Right down the street and he didn’t even bother to call me. Maybe I’m being overly sensitive, but maybe not. It hurts. A lot. And it makes me angry as hell. After everything we’ve been through over the years he still didn’t deem me worthy of a call? A text?
Hey, Bluebird. About that whole waiting-for-me thing? Never mind. I’m home but I have zero interest in seeing you. Take care!
Ugh. None of it makes sense. Only after I busted him in a bar with some blonde did he start calling and texting asking for a chance to explain.
Too little, too late, drummer boy.
I probably would’ve given in eventually, though. Maybe he knew that, because after a few days, his calls and texts stopped.
I’ve analyzed and overanalyzed every moment we spent together in Austin, everything he said before he left me in Amarillo, and each message sent since then. I’ve yet to reach a conclusion about the motivations and intentions of Gavin Garrison.
Papa used to say living your life was like driving a car. While it’s necessary to glance back every now and then, it’s much more important to watch where you are going than dwell on where you’ve been. I won’t be that girl anymore, the one that determines her self-worth or lack thereof based on one guy’s ability to notice her.
I glance up into the hazy mirror and look at my own faded reflection.
Gavin Garrison is so much more than just a guy I like—more than an infatuation or an addiction. In my heart, he’s my past, present, and future. I just don’t know if he wants to be. Or if I’m willing to put myself out there again and ask him to be.
I lost a lot of time focusing on the pain and the past. But when I stopped letting it consume me, I found myself in the same place where I always find myself. In music.
When I stopped moping and feeling sorry for myself, I made some changes in my life. I’ve found happiness and joy in giving piano and violin lessons to underprivileged local kids and it’s been such a successful program that I had to get a business license and name it. Over the Rainbow is my passion project and I’ve formed friendships with many of the parents of the kiddos I teach. Maybe it’s not performing onstage or coming to life beneath the lights, but I love it just the same.
If there is anything I’ve learned about gifts, like the gift of being able to play an instrument, it’s that they should be shared with the world one way or another. I also learned a valuable lesson from my grandparents that it took traveling around the country living their dream to fully comprehend. They didn’t get to live their dream but it didn’t mean they weren’t happy. Together they lived a full, satisfied life and they had plenty of love leftover to give to the two orphans they ended up raising. Life doesn’t always turn out how you expect and sometimes parts of you get broken along the way, but there is always hope and even broken pieces can be rebuilt into something beautiful. My heart is a piece of mosaic art at this point.
Standing there, staring at myself in the glass, I vow to focus on the music, on grabbing hold of what joy I have in my life and not letting go.
Most important? I vow never again to hand my heart over to Gavin Garrison.
At least not until he hands me his first.
2 | Gavin
BAND MEETING. TODAY. Rehearsal space. 4:30. Don’t be late.
That’s all the text from Dallas says. Kind of odd since we’re not “technically” a band anymore, but that’s Dallas for you. No more explanation than he feels is necessary. I’m too tired from working a late shift to text back a list of questions.
His text is the first thing I see when I wake up and check my phone out of habit on a random Thursday afternoon. I worked late last night, so even though it’s nearly three in the afternoon, this is basically breakfast time for me.
For months I’ve checked my phone day and night. Part of me was waiting for this, the opening, the opportunity to see her again and show her that while I’m still a work in progress, I’m trying, improving, and growing closer to becoming the type of man she deserves. The other part of me is dreading it.
After our band sort of unofficially broke up after Austin MusicFest, Dallas went solo, Dixie went home, and I went straight to my probation officer to find out how I could right my many, many wrongs.
Trouble is, I didn’t exactly tell Dixie that. I let her believe I was on tour with Dallas.
When I saw Dixie Lark three months ago, she used her last words to me to tell me right where to go. I’ve left her voice mails, sent texts, asked repeatedly for the chance to explain what she saw—what I did and why I didn’t contact her sooner. When Dallas went missing in Rio, I stopped by to check on her but she didn’t look at all happy to see me in her time of grief. So even though I wanted nothing more than to hold and comfort her, I saw McKinley there and decided it would be best if I kept my distance. Christmas and New Year’s came and went and they were the first ones I didn’t spend with her and Dallas since I met them ten years ago. Dallas invited me to his and Robyn’s place but I declined, choosing to work instead. If it had been her asking me to come, then I would’ve quit my job to be there if necessary, but all I’ve gotten from Dixie Lark is radio silence.