“We’ll be in there in just a sec,” I tell Dallas.

“Hurry,” he huffs out on an exasperated breath. “They’re making the announcement like right now.”

I nod. “Got it. We’ll be right there.”

He lets the door slam and Dixie ends her call.

She opens her mouth to speak but once again the back door opens and all I hear is cheering and indecipherable noise from inside.

“We won!” Dallas yells into the back alley while hitting the back door hard enough to bruise a few knuckles. “Holy shit, you two. Get the hell in here. We won! We’re officially being signed to Rock the Republic Records. We’re going on tour. Like next week! Get in here right now!”

He’s practically blasting off into outer space. “Slow down, Rocket Man,” I tell him. “Dix? Bluebird? You okay?” She’s stoic in the face of Dallas’s epic news. Not smiling. Not even blinking. “Dixie?”

Even Dallas has begun to look worried. “Dixie? Say something, please. We won.”

She blinks once, then stares at us as if we’re the ones who just returned to reality.

“That was Ashley. She had . . . news.”

Dallas and I wait silently for her to continue. Her eyes are shining but I can’t tell if they’re tears of joy or sadness.

“I’ve just been approved as Liam’s temporary guardian. Starting right now.”

31 | Dixie

NANA USED TO say when it rains, it pours. She had a lot of sayings, but that was one of her favorites. Probably because it was one hundred percent true.

Papa rephrased it a little less gently, something about the shit hitting the fan all at once.

I am certainly finding it to be a true sentiment if ever there was one.

Rock the Republic has been sympathetic to my situation inasmuch as they’ve allowed us to put off touring for several months while I figure out how to manage being a part of my band and Liam’s sole caregiver.

The truth is, though, I’m not the only one in love with Liam.

Dallas taught him how to play guitar and basketball.

Gavin taught him to play the drums.

Despite being an overworked and sleep-deprived brand-new mom, Robyn makes spaghetti every Thursday night because it’s Liam’s favorite.

Mrs. Lawson makes him cookies that he and Gavin openly admit are better than mine. And when I make brinner? Aka breakfast for dinner? They all show up. And not just for my biscuits.

Liam’s laughter, Liam’s smiles, they’re rare—but when they’re bestowed upon you, you can’t help but feel special, worthy, even.

We are a family, ragtag group we may be; we are a loving unit of living, breathing people who would do whatever it takes for one another. If that’s not family, I don’t know what is.

But we are a family that is out of time. Rock the Republic has been generous and genuinely supportive. But they have a tour to fill, vacant concert seats that they need folks to purchase tickets for, and a whole slew of other costs dependent upon me figuring out how to be both Liam’s guardian and the fiddle player and frequent vocalist in Leaving Amarillo.

I know Gavin has forced Dallas to back off on pushing me for an answer, but I also know that if I don’t give them one soon, our band will be replaced on the tour by Midnight Revival—an amazingly talented duo that has been blazing up the music scene.

This morning I have to meet with Ashley to discuss my options. Turns out, she’s not as much like Mandy Lantram as I initially believed. She’s not a succubus in designer business suits. What she and Gavin had was a mutual arrangement between two consenting adults and as much as I hate to admit it, I would’ve done the same thing in her position.

Sitting across from her, I’m thankful to realize that I truly have no animosity toward her. She has been helpful with Liam and hasn’t made a single pass at Gavin since we cleared things up in her office months ago.

“So I looked over everything,” she tells me while taking her seat at the desk and opening our file. “And you don’t have very many options, I’m afraid.”

I groan because this was pretty much what I expected to hear.

Part of me wishes Gavin were here but he’s visiting his mom in rehab and I know he’s where he needs to be.

“I put together your two most appealing options and obviously you need time to read over this and think and discuss with your family.” She slides two typed documents over to me and I glance down at the jumble of legal-speak where most statements begin, “The guardian shall be permitted” . . . and so on.

Ashley seems to take note of my confusion. “If you need any of this clarified for you, just give me a call and I’ll do my best. If I can’t answer your questions directly, I’ll point you in the direction of someone at social services who can.”

I thank her for her help and take my documents home to read over them. Unable to wait, I read them in the driveway before going inside to where Gavin and Liam currently are having some type of epic battle on the Xbox.

Ashley was right.

I have exactly two choices.

Give Liam over to a more suitable guardian and go on the road with my band as planned.

Or find myself a career more suitable to motherhood, legally adopt Liam as my son, and fit both him and myself into a cookie-cutter life that the state deems fit.

Neither option feels right . . . or even possible.

“He’s asleep,” Robyn says sometime around midnight. “Denver and Liam are actually both crashed out in the spare room. I’m glad you decided to move into the bigger one so they could have that one.”

I nod. “Me, too.”

I glance around the kitchen table at my family, Robyn, Dallas, and Gavin, before launching into our discussion about Liam’s care. We decided mutually that it would be best to discuss it without him overhearing, as he’s had to deal with enough.

I describe both options, detailing the pros and cons as they were laid out to me in the documents, while passing them around for everyone to have a look. Once the papers have made their way around the table, Dallas looks directly into my eyes.

“I think it’s going to be a difficult situation either way, Dix. But what’s most important is what you want. Do you want a kid? Do you want to be solely responsible for this kid? And if you do, are you sure it’s for the right reasons?”

I start to stand up and tell my brother he has no idea what he’s talking about, but Robyn stops me with a firm hand on mine. “I think what your brother means to say is, we all want what’s best for you. We just want to make sure that you’re making the decision based on that.” When I don’t respond, she gives me a sad head tilt and sympathetic smile. “You can’t save everyone, Dixie. And you can’t save anyone if you’re not taking care of yourself. Trust me, I’ve been learning this since Denver was born. If all you do is give and give, you will eventually hit empty and crash.”

I know they all mean well, and that they all think I’m insane for wanting to adopt a troubled soon-to-be eight-year-old. But what they don’t see is how Liam, Gavin and I together are . . . just . . . right. Somehow we belong together, the three of us, the same way Dallas and Gavin and I used to. We belong to each other, and that much I know to be true. But it feels like that’s all I know and there are so many questions to be answered, questions I can barely comprehend in the legal documents.

I look to Gavin for his input, but he says nothing.

“A lot of these restrictions seem to be targeting single mothers. It would be easier if you were married . . . to someone without a criminal record,” Robyn adds absently while looking over the papers. “Sorry, Gavin.”

He cuts his eyes to her then meets my inquiring gaze.

“She’s right, you know,” he finally says. “As much as I hate to admit it, if you married someone like McKinley or some orchestra pit guy, you two could probably adopt Liam with the snap of a finger and live happily ever after.”