“Promise?” She is so open, her expressive eyes pleading with me to give her everything that I am. Beautiful and perfect even though they say no one is perfect. My girl is, though. Perfect for me anyway.

“I promise. From here on out, it’s you and me against the world.”

27 | Dixie

THE PHI KAP gig was a piece of cake. We played to hundreds of drunken frat boys and their dates and the majority of the crowd was too drunk to know if we were decent or if we sucked. A few of them recognized Dallas, girls mostly, but only a handful made a pass at him. Afterward we got brinner at a nearby diner, where Robyn joined us and we had more fun than we’d had in a long time. We’re a family now, the four, soon to be five, of us. It made me smile, but there was still a nagging thought in the back of my mind. I wished Liam could’ve been there. I could hardly eat my waffles. I didn’t touch my hash browns.

I called Mrs. Lawson, who said Liam was officially in the care of Child Protective Services and that she had applied to be his temporary guardian as well in case I got turned down.

Tonight I have to put my worries aside and focus on playing. Any tension I feel or hold inside will come right out into my hands and onto Oz.

I spend the entire ride to the Tavern practicing the deep-breathing techniques Robyn has taught us all.

Dallas thinks we’re ready for this. I can only hope he’s right.

Walking into the Tavern the night of the competition is unreal. There are twice as many people as I expected and the energy is palpable. Despite a glarey-faced older brother breathing fire nearby, Gavin holds my hand and brushes his lips against mine several times.

Dallas will just have to get used to it. I have to watch him and Robyn practically going at it on a weekly basis.

The closer it gets to our turn, the more still we each become. None of us even speak while we’re in the area behind the bar where bands are lined up. We drew number fifteen for the first round so at least we’re near the middle.

Our first song is a Lady Antebellum cover called “Just a Kiss” and Dallas and I harmonize really well. Probably that whole shared DNA thing.

Next up we play a reworked countrified R&B hit that has always been a fan favorite.

We exit the stage to a wild cacophony of applause.

My nerves are shot from stress but I grin through the rest of the performances. There are only two other bands that really give us a run for our money. Still, knowing we might not win is only fueling my need for it.

We make our way back to the line, drawing number eight for round two. Only fifteen bands made the cut, so I feel like eight is a good slot.

In the second round we play a harder, more aggressive song called “Take It Out on Me,” mashed up with a song called “Games,” and the women in the audience are losing it. Gavin is killing it on the drums and Dallas is giving it his all. I’m singing more than I ever have before and Dallas was right, my voice does add a rich layer of depth to the band. This is us. We are on. I’m so proud to be a part of it I feel like I could burst. We’ve got the hometown crowd advantage for sure and our cheering section is by far the loudest.

Robyn moves through the crowd handing out drink huggers, T-shirts, and postcards with our name and social media info on them.

While we wait for the remaining bands to play, Gavin steps away to check his phone. I use the ladies’ room and freshen my makeup. Butterflies come to life in my belly while the other bands play. It hits me hard during the downtime.

This is it.

This is our shot.

It’s even more crucial than Austin MusicFest was because now we’re actually ready for it. Dallas can’t afford to keep “playing” at having a band and this is our chance to legitimize our dream as an actual career. Right here. Right now.

I feel the oncoming panic attack affecting my breathing and I need the guys to help calm my nerves. Otherwise I might float away into outer space. But I don’t see either of them near the bathrooms.

Making my way through the sea of bodies filling the bar, I search for signs of either Dallas or Gavin in every small grouping of people but see neither.

Dallas waves at me from a seat where he and Robyn are talking up the Rock the Republic guys. I’m relieved to see them, but still no Gavin.

I’m drunk on adrenaline and disoriented as I continue my search.

The emcee announces that there are two bands left and I feel like I’m being thrown face-first out of a plane—with no parachute.

Where the hell is he?

I throw up a silent prayer, my last resort when I’m consumed with hopelessness.

Please don’t let him choose the darkness.

Please, please, for once, for me, let him choose the light.

28 | Gavin

I DON’T KNOW if it’s an innate thing or what, but I can literally feel when my mom is about to come into my world and fuck it all up.

All night at the battle of the bands I’ve been jittery, on edge, and basically consumed with the overwhelming sensation of impending doom. After round two I check my phone for news that the sky is falling and there it is.

The trailer is gone.

I need your help.

I’m all alone.

I’m scared, Gavin. Please.

I don’t recognize the number but I know it’s one of the many prepaid cell phones she goes through. I resist the urge to call back until I’m outside the bar. We’ve got several other acts until we go on again, if we even make it to the finals, that is. When Dixie heads to the ladies’ room I slip outside and pull up the number.

It goes to a generic message telling me this user doesn’t have voice mail.

I wait a few seconds and sure enough, my phone vibrates in my hand.

Caller Unknown.

Except, I do know.

“Hi, Mom,” I answer on a sigh.

“How could you?” her shrill voice answers back. “How could you let them take our home away, Gavin? What did I ever do to you to deserve this?”

The list is endless.

“It wasn’t being paid for and you were never there. I moved out on my own like I told you I was going to. It’s been gone almost a week and you’re just now noticing. That should tell you everything you need to know.”

A couple moves past me to go inside the Tavern and I nod and step aside.

My mom’s shrieking reaches an inaudible level of hysteria as she rambles on about having nowhere else to go and how she’s not safe.

“Not safe from what, Mom?” I break in. “Calm down and breathe and tell me what you aren’t safe from.”

“Carl,” she chokes out. “No one is safe from Carl. They took his son away, said you and your friend reported him and some other stuff. He asked me where to find you and nearly strangled me to death until I told him.”

Jesus.

“Where are you? And where did you tell him to look?”

She coughs her typical smoker’s wheeze loudly into the phone before answering me.

“Mom. Fucking tell me where you are and where you told him I’d be.”

“I-I wasn’t sure,” she stammers out. “I told him you work at that bar we saw you at and that sometimes you hang out at that Korean store by the truck stop. I didn’t tell him anything else, I swear.”

She told him enough.

“Where are you right now?”

She coughs again. “I’m at his place. At Carl’s. But he’s not here; he left when they called and told him he couldn’t have his son back. He said he was going to find you and your friend and teach you a lesson about interfering in other people’s private business.”

“Great, Mom. That’s great. Thanks.”

“Baby, I’m sorry,” she pleads. “I—he’s—you’re not . . . He’s not a good man, Gavin. If he wants to hurt you, he will.”

I breathe through my nose.

Violence.

It always finds me.