Gavin casts a long look over his shoulder at me and I grin big because I am so damn proud of him right now. My broody silent boy stood up and became a man today for the sake of a child we both love and cherish. No matter the outcome or the judge’s decision, I know we will always be a part of Liam’s life and that having Gavin as a role model was part of a grander plan designed by a much higher power than us.

“Is that all, Mr. Garrison?”

At first Gav looks like he’s going to wrap it up, but then he shakes his head.

“No, sir. I just want to add that when I was a kid, I thought everything was my fault. I placed the blame for my mother’s behavior squarely on my own small shoulders. Meeting Liam has helped me to realize that no child is to blame or should be punished for their parents’ mistakes. I don’t regret the pain that I suffered growing up or carry it with me any longer because I understand that there was a purpose for it. Without experiencing it for myself, I never could’ve related to Liam and reached him the way that I have been able to. I consider that a gift—his friendship and his trust. I know he won’t give it to many. I hope that you will look long and hard at this case, at us as individuals, Liam, Dixie, and myself, and you will see what I see. A family. One designed to be together. One that loves and supports each other. I hope that you will choose us as Liam’s permanent guardians, and not because we make the most money, but because we love and care for him and understand him in a way other guardians would likely be unable to do.”

The judge nods and Gavin takes one more deep breath. “That’s all, Your Honor. Thank you for your time.”

When he returns to his seat he reaches for my hand and I feel his trembling as much as mine.

“I love you,” I whisper. “And love you.”

“Ditto, Bluebird,” he whispers back. His eyes meet mine and I read the promise in them.

It’s going to be okay.

Gavin says we can use the broken pieces of the past to build a brighter future . . . but I’m not sure this is true anymore.

Either we lose Liam or lose the band, and I know from experience that I need them both.

Can we have both? I don’t know.

All I know is that I don’t want my dreams to cost me my heart.

For the first time in my life, I know I finally have the strength to hold on tight either way.

34 | Gavin

Two years later

I CAN’T HELP but laugh as Dixie tries to juggle the four Grammys we won tonight. A song we wrote about Liam during our yearlong struggle to formally adopt him launched our career into the stratosphere and we still haven’t come down—though we all know we will one day. For now, we keep each other grounded.

Photographers are everywhere as we leave the awards ceremony. It’s a constant barrage of flashbulbs, almost like being in a club with strobe lights. Dallas has his hands full with Robyn and Denver, I’m carrying Liam, and my poor Bluebird is stuck with the relatively small but still heavy and somewhat cumbersome trophies.

“Congratulations on the twins, Dallas!” a reporter calls out. “When’s the due date?”

“June,” Robyn answers, glaring at Dixie, who grins maniacally in response.

“What about you two?” the same reporter calls out toward me and Dixie. “Any bundles of joy coming your way anytime soon?”

Dixie looks momentarily caught off guard so I answer.

“We have our hands full as it is right now,” I tell the female reporter standing up front. Nodding to Liam, who has his face buried in my shoulder, I add, “We’re focusing on our family and our music.”

She takes this direct answer as motivation to push on and shoves her mic toward me. “The history with the band, how it all began, how you two ended up together and with an adopted son, it’s all such a mystery to your fans. Do you ever think you’ll do an exposé on your backstory? For CMT or someone else, for instance?”

I glance over at Robyn, who does our PR and marketing and typically fields these types of questions. She’s busy consoling an exhausted Denver so I take a deep breath and face the reporter myself. Our backstory is messy and full of criminal records, complicated courtroom dramas, and disastrous tours in which things happened that I have vowed never to discuss. I’ve taken several oaths to keep specific incidents quiet—particularly those involving one band member peeing her pants and it wasn’t either a child or a pregnant Robyn touring with us at the time. Dixie would kill me dead if those details ever surfaced.

“Actually¸ uh, we don’t really have any plans at the moment as far as that’s concerned. We’re just kind of—”

“Moving forward,” Dixie breaks in, stepping between me and the reporter. “We won’t be doing any exposés on our past or our backstory because we’re focusing on our future.”

God, I love this woman, I think to myself while I watch her politely shield Liam and me from the remaining questions being thrown at us as we leave.

I have an amazing woman in my life and we have a son. And an internationally known award-winning band that is currently topping most of the music charts. Me, Captain Screwup, the guy who was once capable of nothing more than fucking up the one-man parade known as his life. I have everything I ever dreamed of and then some.

I was raised, I was born and bred, in complete and total darkness. Yet somehow I found the light. The same way Liam gravitated toward her, so did I. We both still do.

She is a beacon, shining relentlessly and guiding us out of the dark.

We get a lot of questions about getting married, but neither of us cares much about that. What we have is deeper than a piece of paper. Dixie Leigh Lark is my soul mate and nothing will ever change that.

Dixie glances over her shoulder and I see blue eyes full of love gleaming up at me.

“Forever,” I mouth at her.

“And always,” she mouths back.

My Bluebird is right. We are focusing on our future.

And what a bright, beautiful future it is.

Epilogue | Liam

“DUDE. SERIOUSLY. YOU have the coolest parents.” Malcolm Hastings fist-bumps me as we take our spots backstage next to my cousin Denver and his grandma.

“Yeah, they’re okay. I guess.”

His already large eyes bulge behind the lenses of his glasses. “They’re okay? We’re backstage at the biggest musical festival of the year. This is freaking amazing!”

I laugh at him, no, no, with him. Definitely with him, because he’s laughing along at how laid-back I am about the whole famous-musicians-for-parents thing. Malcolm is a unique individual and a lot of people laugh at him because they don’t see the world the way he does. He actually does get laughed at a lot and he doesn’t like it. I take special care never to laugh at him.

We’re an odd pair. I’m a little on the stockier side in my typically solid black attire and Malcolm is tall but skinny with his suspenders and colorful bow ties. The bow ties belonged to his granddad and he gets really mad and kind of sad when people make fun of them.

He’s a good guy, the kind of guy who will wake you up at a sleepover if you’re having an embarrassing nightmare and will listen without laughing when you tell him what it’s about. He’s the kind of guy who keeps stuff to himself and my mom says it’s important to have friends you can trust. Even if they wear really strange bow ties.

He’s also supersmart, like, skipped two grades smart. So he’s smaller than most of us in eighth grade, which is where I come in.

I’m the muscle.

After a sleepover incident in sixth grade, I decided Malcolm was my friend for life. So when some of the guys on the football team decided to duct-tape Malcolm to a toilet seat naked in the locker room, I decided I didn’t like the idea too much and used my fists to express my dislike of this plan before Malcolm lost too much body hair to a roll of Kentucky Chrome.