But I’ll be damned if it comes anywhere near my Bluebird.

The thing about my world is that it’s typically bathed in darkness regardless. People like Carl and my mother will find the darkened corners even in the bright of day. It’s where they thrive.

I text Dallas that I have to check on something and that if I don’t make it back in time to go on without me. He and Dixie can perform her original song acoustic-style and it will still be amazing.

I practically jog to Mr. Kyung’s store, breaking into a full-out sprint when I see the flames. The scent of ash and destruction swirl in the air around me.

What the fuck?

Mr. Kyung and his wife are outside and he’s shouting into the phone. I pray it’s to 911 or the fire department. I run around the side of the building and grab the garden hose, pulling it as close as it will reach.

Carl set the truck on fire. The truck that I use sometimes.

It’s a message. A warning. One I don’t plan to heed. Within a few minutes the fire department arrives and begins battling the flames with much more success than I did.

I comfort Mr. Kyung and his wife, promising them both I will replace the truck and handle any damage that insurance doesn’t cover. I don’t know how, but I will. This is my mess to clean up.

The thought of Carl going to the Tavern and doing something similar with Dixie inside floods my mind. Mental images have me literally shaking with rage as I run as fast as I can to his house.

Once I arrive, I catch my breath and storm inside. A few junkies litter the floor in the front room and my mother sits slouched over a makeshift kitchen table made of cinder blocks and plywood.

“Mom,” I say as loud as I can. “Mom, look at me.” I wait until she does.

Both of her eyes are swollen and she’s likely battered and high at the moment.

“Where is he?”

She’s dazed, staring at me as if I’m a stranger speaking a foreign language.

“Mom,” I repeat slowly. “Where is Carl? Carl, you know, your friend. Where is he?”

“Carl?”

I want to shake the answer out of her. Scream and demand she sober up and come to.

“Tell me where Carl is. Carl can help you, okay? He can help you feel better.”

He can’t, but this is how you get info from a junkie. Make promises of things that will never happen. The cops are especially good at it.

“Carl is . . . Carl went . . .”

She breaks out into a fit of maniacal laughter and I’m nearly losing it.

“Tell me. It’s important. I’ll help you feel better if you just tell me.”

She sighs, then looks up at me with eyes as dark as midnight. “Carl went to get his son.” She giggles again. “I didn’t even know he had a son. B, B,” she calls to a nearby stoner making out with some girl who looks barely legal. “B, did you know Carl had a son?”

“Where is his son, Katrina? Answer me. Where is he?” This time I do reach out and grab her.

Her attention returns to me, her eyes snapping into focus on my face. “How do you know my name?”

Fuck this.

I make my way outside, tripping over bodies and God knows what else as I go. The shadows cast by Carl’s house are dark but just beyond them is the light, a glow being sent down from a streetlamp like a beam from Heaven.

“Gavin,” a female voice calls from the light. “Gavin, wait.”

29 | Dixie

THERE ARE CERTAIN things I’ve learned growing up that have shaped who I’ve become.

My parents taught me about love. My grandparents taught me about patience, kindness, and perseverance.

Every moment of my life has taught me about music.

Music can seem complicated to people who don’t play it. Notes and chords, scales, choruses, rhythms, crescendos and such.

But it all comes down to one

simple

thing.

The beat.

If you can feel it, you are a part of it.

The beat has always been within me, in my heart. And with every beat I have loved Gavin, have wanted and needed him.

He is the beat of Leaving Amarillo. He is the heartbeat of my existence. And I will spend my life loving him with each and every beat of my heart.

My heart will forever beat in time with his until it no longer beats at all.

“Gavin, wait.”

My voice breaks the silent stillness of night and I watch him decide. He’s shrouded in darkness, surrounded by the shadow of Carl’s house. I knew he would come here, knew his mom would eventually pull him back in, just as Dallas predicted.

I glance over my shoulder at where my brother sits in the driver’s seat of EmmyLou, waiting for Gavin to decide.

Choose us, I plead silently. Choose the light.

I hold my hand out, stretching my arm as far as I can until my fingertips cross into darkness.

“I love you, Gavin,” I say to his frozen form before me. “I will love you in times of strength and in times of weakness. I love all the parts of you—the darkness and the light. And I will love you forever no matter what you decide.”

His eyes gleam in the glow of the lamp above.

“Blue . . .”

I shake my head. “You don’t have to explain. I can do the math. But here, now, Gavin, I need you to choose. I need you to pick me, pick the band, pick us, pick this path. I will love you forever. I choose you. But if you don’t choose me, here, now, I’ll have to love you enough to let you go.”

Tires squeal on pavement beside us, a beat-up blue Ford coming angrily to a halt mere feet from where Gavin stands.

Carl gets out wielding a baseball bat and Dallas is out of EmmyLou like a genie out of a bottle.

Carl’s quicker. “There you are, you little son of a bitch. Did you take my son? You and your little friend playing house, are you? Not so tough now, are you?” Carl turns to me and Gavin steps in between us.

“No,” I whisper quietly so that only Gavin can hear. “He’s not worth it. This is his property and he has a restraining order against you. Stop, Gav. Think.”

Another man gets out of the truck that Carl was in and sneers menacingly at us. This is how it happens. This is how people with bright futures end up in comas and wheelchairs and prison—one moment, one bad decision leads to them flushing their dreams down the toilet.

“Stay away from her,” Gavin calls out, walking closer to them and farther from me. “Stay away from my mom, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from Liam.”

“Well her,” Carl calls out nodding toward me, “I could give a fuck about. But your mom can’t seem to stay away from me, pretty boy. And Liam is my boy. You hear that, you little piano-playing bitch? My boy!”

I lung toward Gavin, barely catching him around the waist as Dallas wraps his arms behind his back. He’s ready to fight Carl, to throw everything away for this sad, pathetic man.

“Your mom has made her choices, man,” Dallas says quietly. “You need to make your own. Get in the truck and let’s go back to the Tavern. Now.”

Gavin doesn’t budge. My stomach is hollow and my heart aches for him. This is on him. I can’t save him from this. From himself. This time it has to be his choice.

“We’ll be in the truck,” I tell him in his ear. “You decide which you’d rather do. Spend a lifetime fighting lowlifes for your mom’s sake, or be with me, with us.”

Dallas gapes at me but I gesture for him to follow me to the truck.

“He has to choose, Dallas. We can’t force him into our world anymore. He has to come willingly.”

I kiss Gavin gently on the cheek. “I love you. All of you,” I whisper before walking away.

He stands tall and unflinching and I am dying inside.

Either way, something will end tonight.

I just don’t know what it will be.

30 | Gavin

I’M TORN BETWEEN two worlds, two opposite versions of myself.

They say man has two basic reactions: fight or flight.