“Her name is Ashley Weisman. She’s his attorney.”

She looks too young to be an attorney, but whatever. And the way she was behaving with Gavin the night I first saw him at the Tavern sure didn’t look like an attorney-client relationship to me, unless there are extra attorney-client privileges I don’t know about.

I can feel my anxiety amping up as we watch her confer with an officer at the front desk.

When she walks over toward us, my heart pounds harder with each noisy step she takes. “How in the world did he afford her?”

Dallas closes his eyes as if I have asked a question far too complicated for him to answer. “It’s—”

“Do not say ‘complicated.’ I am serious,” I warn him. “It’s not a hard question. Lawyers cost money. She looks expensive. Gavin is not exactly rolling in cash.” I slow my speech to an intentionally drawn-out speed. “How. Did. He. Pay. For. Her. Services?”

He tries to look away before I see it, but Gavin is right. My brother and I do not have any type of poker face to speak of. We wear everything we think and feel right there for the world to see.

What I just saw makes my stomach clench and my chest ache. I can already smell her expensive perfume from where I’m sitting and she’s not even all the way to us yet.

“She hardly seems like his type,” I grumble under my breath. But then maybe I don’t know Gavin’s type. Maybe she’s exactly his type.

He said he loved me.

Over and over actually. I tried not to make a “thing” of it because he can be twitchy when it comes to emotions, but he said it.

The corners of Dallas’s mouth quirk up slightly. “She isn’t. Believe me.”

Ashley the Expensive Lawyer who apparently accepts sexual favors as payment makes a beeline for Dallas.

“Mr. Lark,” she says with alert green eyes. “I’m Ashley Weisman. We spoke on the phone earlier. Thank you so much for calling me.”

“No, problem. Thank you for coming out so late.”

I have a childlike urge to kick her in the shin.

“I’m Dixie,” I say slightly louder than necessary while stepping between them and shoving my hand at her. The surprise is evident on her face. “And now that we’re all acquainted, can you tell us how much longer it will be until they let him go?”

“Ah, yes. The piano player. From the bar,” she says as if the words taste bad in her mouth. “I remember.” It’s clear she’s sizing me up and I make a point to not shrink in her presence.

Dallas looks confused by her statement and I attempt to mimic his expression. “Glad I made an impression. I don’t recall having met you.”

A twinge of annoyance creases her delicate features but I just smile. Once upon a time I was intimidated by women like her. Polished. Professional. Sophisticated in ways I could and would never be. But after the Mandy Lantram Experience, I have realized that we are all just human beings and that each of us has our own kind of beauty and our own flaws.

“Yes, well, I don’t think we ever officially met. Gavin doesn’t typically do well with introductions.”

She knows what he typically does or doesn’t do well with?

“And how do you know him, exactly? Gavin, I mean.”

Ashley glances at Dallas and I dare him with my eyes to so much as give a slight shake of his head to deter her from answering. He looks away as if suddenly captivated by an immensely intriguing vending machine in the corner.

“He’s a friend. And a client when necessary,” she informs me with a smug grin. “Which seems to be quite often here lately.”

“Yes, well, as I said before, thanks for coming out so late,” Dallas repeats. “And were you able to get them to let him go tonight?”

She returns her attention to my brother and tucks a thick piece of her hair behind her left ear. “Unfortunately, due to his probation and the violent nature of the crime, he is required to stay for twenty-four hours.”

My heart sinks like a stone to the pit of my stomach at the thought of him sleeping in a cold, lonely jail cell tonight. “So they won’t let him out until tomorrow around eight or nine P.M.?” The night has been such a blur, I’m not even sure what time he was booked.

“Correct. But sometimes with shift change they let folks out a little early. If you’re coming to pick him up, I’d come around six or six thirty. Of course I’d be happy to—”

“We’ll be picking him up,” I announce. “No need for you to come all this way again.”

Likely sensing my tone, Dallas pipes up with another question. “What about his hand? Is there a way to get him any medical attention for it tonight? Did you tell them he was a musician?”

“They allowed him to have a splint and an ice pack. I’m afraid that’s about all that’s available at this facility.”

My brother nods. “That’s better than nothing, I suppose.”

She smiles warmly while handing Dallas a business card from her purse. “Here’s this if you need anything, anything at all.” Her eyes are slightly tighter when she turns to me. “You witnessed what happened, correct?”

I nod. “I did. Carl had clearly not known Liam had been coming to my place because he was out of the truck, slapping him and trying to shove him inside the cab before . . . before Gavin stopped him.”

Her mouth purses and she appears contemplative for a few seconds. “Well, that’s good—not that he was mistreating his son but that you saw the abuse. Although I wish there had been another eyewitness that would be willing to verify your statement. Clearly you have a bias in Gavin’s favor so that might prejudice your statement a bit. The ADA might not care about the defendant’s girlfriend’s interpretation of events. I know how they think. I know several of them personally.”

I feel my eyes narrow. I backed down with Mandy Lantram. Too bad for this chick I’ve grown up a lot since then. I am a reliable and credible witness, dammit. “I’m sure you do—”

“Need to get going home before it gets too late. Have a good evening, Ms. Weisman.”

Dallas nods to dismiss her but she stays put. “Please, call me Ashley.”

“Have a good evening, Ms. Weisman,” I say evenly, meeting her eyes. “Thank you for your help.”

“It’s my job. You do the same.”

“Will do,” Dallas says.

Once she’s out of earshot, I hold out my hand. “Give it.”

“What?”

“Her card. Give it to me.”

Dallas frowns. “Okay.” He hands me the sleek black card with white and silver print. “So now, what do we do about Gavin?”

“First, you go home and get some sleep. You look dead on your feet.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“It’s true. Go get some rest and I’ll stay here and hassle them a little more about maybe checking on his hands. If he’s injured badly we’ll have to cancel the Phi Kap gig and save his strength for the battle. I’ll come home soon and crash and we can come back tomorrow evening and pick him up.”

We hug goodbye but when I pull EmmyLou into my driveway I sit for a few moments, reliving the fight I never saw coming.

I wish I’d asked Dallas the question I need the answer to the most.

After everything, after Gavin is out of jail, after I demand they come clean about the year I was in Houston and everything is out in the open . . . then what?

18 | Gavin

“SHE CANNOT SEE me like this, Dallas. I mean it.” I’m gripping the phone tightly and my right leg is bouncing so rapidly I look like I’m having withdrawal symptoms.

He nods on the other side of the glass. “I know. But listen, the situation with your attorney and Dixie facing off . . . It’s like I said before, either you’re going to come clean about the past or it’s going to get out ahead of you. You need to talk to her. Soon.”

I nod several times. “I will.”

“She says she’s not doing the battle or moving forward with the band until we come clean about everything. I don’t think she’s kidding.”

“I don’t think she is, either.” I bite a loose piece of skin off the side of my thumb. “And I don’t know if she’s going to be able to go through with it if she knows everything. Especially after what she saw last night.”