Текст книги "Missing Dixie"

Автор книги: Caisey Quinn

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

23 | Dixie

I FEEL LIKE I can breathe again when Liam and I arrive home with Gavin following us in a green pickup.

Gavin seems to understand Liam in a way I can’t. He relates to him, chats easily with him, and doesn’t seem as nervous about screwing up as I am. When we were getting into the van earlier, I went to help Liam up and I saw some alarming scars on his back. One is dangerously similar to the shape of a belt buckle.

Each mark on him, each sign I missed all this time while giving him lessons, is affecting me in ways I can’t understand. I do the best I can to hide how much I want to curl up and have a good cry. I don’t deserve to get to cry. Liam is a tough kid and he deserves my strength, not my pity or my tears. Gavin has kept my pity party in check and I’m glad he’s here.

But it’s hard, too. Hard to look at him and not kiss him, hard to be so close and not touch him.

We walk toward the house, the three of us, and there is an odd peaceful feeling soothing me as if I am exactly where I need to be in this moment.

Gavin holds the door open and we step inside and get busy pulling out the old two-person tent he and my brother used to use and every pillow, blanket, and sleeping bag we can find. I put Liam in charge of organizing the snacks on a plate at the kitchen table and he remains very serious and intense about counting out and lining up marshmallows, graham crackers, and pieces of Hershey bar in methodical groups.

“Good job,” I tell him once Gavin and I have the tent and pillow and blanket fort assembled in the living room. “Now let’s get cracking on these s’mores.”

Liam grins, proud of himself for his hard work, and it both warms and breaks my heart to see him smile. He’s so small and vulnerable and my mind keeps drifting to how big his dad is and what kind of life this little boy has had so far.

Gavin catches me tearing up a little and steps in. “How about Liam and I handle the s’mores and you be on movie duty?”

I nod and my skin heats from the embarrassment at being caught breaking down again.

Buck up, buttercup, my subconscious scolds me. I take a deep breath and do that.

I’m tough. I lived on the road alone for nearly three months. I started a business by myself. I’ve got this.

Even though I do feel as if I can handle this, I also know that just as Gavin’s pain is my pain, Liam’s pain is also seeping into the broken places inside my heart and that I won’t allow this child to receive another mark on his skin or miss another meal no matter what I have to do.

The ire burns in me, anger at the kind of people who allow children to be hurt or go hungry, rage at those who inflict pain on the innocent and helpless.

“Breathe, Bluebird,” Gavin tells me quietly. “Go pick out a movie. One of those Disney ones you’re always telling me I need to see.”

I take a deep breath and turn to go into the living room, but not before hearing Liam ask, “Why do you call her Bluebird?”

I can’t help myself, I need to hear the answer. Once I’ve stepped out of sight, I lean against the wall and do my best to eavesdrop.

“Well . . . that’s kind of a long story, I guess,” Gavin says, barely speaking loud enough for me to hear. He mentions something about a story he already told Liam outside this morning but I don’t know what he’s referring to.

When Liam doesn’t respond, Gavin continues.

“When I was a kid, I didn’t have a whole lot of hope. I didn’t hope to see my friends, or hope to play with my toys, or hope to get anything for my birthday or Christmas. I had done that and been let down a lot. So I didn’t have much hope or dare to think that my life would ever get much better.”

I close my eyes and place a hand on my chest to keep my heart from breaking apart.

“Then I met Dixie. And her brother Dallas. And I don’t know . . . I felt . . . alive. I felt hope.”

Liam is still quiet and I wish I could see his face.

Does he have hope? Does he get birthday presents? Has he ever had a Christmas?

“Remember what I told you about today,” Gavin continues. “When Dallas, my friend and Dixie’s brother, was mowing grass by a pond and he saw a bird. One of the blue finches like you and me saw in the backyard. This one was small and lying down in some high grass but there wasn’t a tree or a nest around. It was just . . . there. And it looked dead.”

“But you said it wasn’t. You said it flew away,” Liam’s voice is soft and yet heavy with the sound of betrayal.

“I told you the truth. It didn’t die. We just thought it was dead. But then Dixie showed up and Dallas picked it up and carried it home and the next thing we knew, it was chirping and flying away, right out of his hands.”

“But . . . how?”

I have to strain to hear Gavin’s answer. “I think, maybe, that our little bluebird was lying there, feeling bad and defeated and maybe thinking about giving up. But then we came along and lifted it up off the ground and took it somewhere safe. We gave it hope. And when it came to and we watched it fly away, it gave us hope right back.”

I smile when the inevitable question slips from Liam’s lips. “Okay. So you saved the bird but what does that have to do with Miss Dixie?”

Gavin chuckles lightly. “I call Miss Dixie Bluebird because she gives me hope. When I’m lying down feeling bad and thinking about giving up, it’s her that makes me pick myself back up again and fly. Even when I think I can’t, even when I don’t want to. As long as she has hope, has faith in me, I’ll still try to be the best that I can be.”

And here I thought it was because I had blue eyes and my last name was Lark.

Fighting tears at this point just feels stupid so I let them out, wiping them gently and wondering why it took a child to get that story out of Gavin. Why he never told me how he felt.

The room falls quiet so I peek around the corner. Gavin turns on the burner and pulls up a chair for Liam to watch while he roasts the marshmallows.

Seeing them does strange things to my insides. I don’t know what it is, but somehow they are right together. As if my only purpose in life was to unite these two wounded souls. As if somehow they belong to me and I belong to them.

“How goes the movie search?” Gavin calls out.

Even though his back is to me, I know he knows I haven’t looked for movies.

I take a few steps back from the entryway and call back, “Oh, it’s going. Disney really has the corner on the princess market, though. Not sure you boys would like any of these.”

“How about The Wizard of Oz,” Gavin calls back.

I smile because that’s always been my favorite. Hence my fiddle being named Oz. “I think I can scrounge that one up. Bring me some s’mores! I’m starving in here!”

We play at the banter, mostly for Liam’s sake, while we settle in with the movie and the s’mores.

“There’s no color,” Liam says when the black-and-white movie begins to play.

I smile, glancing over at Gavin and his tattoos and his hazel eyes and bright white smile.

“Don’t worry,” I tell him. “There will be.”

Liam falls asleep somewhere around the time Dorothy meets the lion. Gavin looks pretty beat and I’m exhausted myself.

“Want me to turn it off?”

Gavin blinks sleepily and shakes his head. “Nah. Leave it on in case he wakes up.”

He maneuvers onto all fours and tucks Liam in while I watch. There is something happening, something bigger than us that I can’t explain, but I can feel deep down into my bones that this moment matters. That whatever is going on with our motley little group here is monumental.

Maybe it’s just wishful thinking—not a promise of what’s to come but the little girl in me still fantasizing about Gavin being my future.

Gavin crawls out of the tent and extends his hand to help me out. The contact of our palms makes my entire body tingle. I stumble over the bottom lip of the tent entrance and nearly plow him down.

“Well that was graceful,” I say quietly so as not to disturb Liam.

Gavin looks down into my eyes and I realize I am still in his arms. His full, masculine lips part and I don’t know if he’s going to say something or kiss me but he closes them and shakes his head.

“I’ll sleep on the couch. Keep an eye on him and let him know where he is in case he wakes up scared.”

“Okay,” I say, gently extracting myself from his embrace. “Good night, Gavin.”

“Good night, Bluebird,” he says quietly. “Sweet dreams.”

I watch him retrieve an extra pillow and blanket from the tent and toss them on the couch before I make my way to the bathroom. After I close the door behind me, I look at myself in the mirror. My hair is a mess, my mascara is smudged under my eyes, and I look like I haven’t slept in a week. The s’mores were messy and there is chocolate smudged at the corner of my mouth. I would’ve never known by the way Gavin just looked at me. He gazed upon my face like I was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen and I’d unexpectedly fallen from the heavens and landed in his arms. He released me as if holding me for just a moment was a privilege he didn’t feel he had a right to. The reflection of myself in Gavin’s eyes is a lot different from the one I see now in the mirror under unforgiving lights.

Leaning forward over the sink, I wash my face and brush my teeth. Drying off with a hand towel, I catch my own eye in the mirror and briefly remember seeing him behind me in a hotel in Austin.

Gavin is the color to my memories. He’s the shadows that make my light shine brighter.

Our past, our mistakes, they seem so . . . small compared to what we have.

What he did the year I was in Houston was fake. It was empty and meaningless and I don’t feel threatened by it—just sad that it happened. I was angry about the accident, livid, actually—but Dallas is a grown man and he wasn’t completely innocent, either. It’s the hiding it from me that still bothers me. The fact that he didn’t trust me enough or think I was strong enough for the truth. Maybe I wasn’t then. But I am now.

Tonight was real. I needed him and he was there. Despite what he may think, he is what I need, he’s who I need, and he will forever be the one man I want to see across the table, beside me in bed, and behind me onstage.

Bracing my hands on the sink, I try to let my emotions wash through me the way the music does. I can handle Gavin. I can handle this situation with Liam. When the time comes, probably after the baby is born, but soon, I’m going to have a long talk with my brother about not telling me the truth about what was going on the year I was gone.

I’m going to let the guys know I want to play the new song I wrote and I’m going to play it my way.

I am stronger than I used to be. Better. Braver.

I can fight for what I love.

24 | Gavin

MY BODY DECIDES it has a pressing need to piss just before I fall asleep. I make my way carefully through the living room, careful not to disturb still-sleeping Liam as I go. I’ve already decided to teach him how to play the drums and I’m planning our lessons in my head.

Distracted by my thoughts, I don’t think to knock on the bathroom door. When I swing it open, I’m surprised to see Dixie standing at the sink. She’s in the same clothes she had on before.

“I thought you were in bed,” I say. She doesn’t move an inch. “You okay?”

When she finally turns to me, I see sorrow etched into her face and determination burning in her eyes.

She nods. “Sort of. I just . . .”

I take a step closer so I can hear her better.

“He’s never going back to that man, Gavin. I swear to God. I don’t care what I have to do.”

“Hey,” I say softly, reaching out to take her in my arms and pulling her to my chest when she doesn’t resist. “Okay, baby. He’s never going back to that man. Breathe.”

She stiffens against my chest and then turns those wide blue eyes up to meet mine. “If I’d just—”

“Nope. Nothing you could’ve said, done, not said, not done, would’ve changed anything. You are not to blame. You are not someone who would assume any of those things and I would never want you to become that jaded a person, one who thought everyone in the world was out to do you or anyone else harm. You are full of light and you see the light in everyone else. It’s one of the many things I love about you.”

“Gav . . .”

It hits me hard, that she still trusts me after everything I’ve done, her vulnerability, the way I’ve taken her for granted, how majorly fucked my priorities have been for so long. Too long.

This is my whole world in my arms right now. All I want is to make her pain go away, the way she’s always done for me.

“Shh,” I say. “Look, I texted Sheila and she texted back. She’s coming to talk with Liam in the morning. She’s good at her job. She’ll ask the right questions without upsetting him. She’ll get Mrs. Lawson approved as his temporary guardian and she’ll get an order of protection against his dad. It’s all going to be okay. I promise.”

Her body relaxes against mine and I notice our reflection in the mirror.

“We look good together,” I whisper to the top of her head.

Desire blooms in her gaze at the memory and I smile.

“Behave yourself, drummer boy,” she mutters as I kiss her forehead and squeeze her tight.

“Working on it.”

“Speaking of that,” she begins, pulling back a bit to look me in the face. “What’s the word on the assault charges? Will Liam’s statement to the social worker help any?”

I sigh because as usual, there’s still always something to deal with, something I royally screwed up that needs to be handled before we can move forward.

“It’s compli—”

“Gavin, so help me—”

“Okay, yeah. Sorry. It’s just kind of up in the air because Carl is still in the hospital and technically they don’t know the extent of his injuries. Ashley said I can plead no contest to the assault and agree to community service, anger management, and extended probation and agree to have no contact with him as long as Carl’s injuries don’t have lasting effects.”

Dixie stiffens at the mention of Ashley, then slumps against me. “Jesus.”

I stroke her hair, enjoying the feel of it against my fingers. Soft and rough. “I know. It doesn’t help that I have prior convictions for the drugs and the accident. Or that my mom has been shacked up with Carl and I might’ve roughed him up at the bar one night not too long ago. Plus, Carl is milking this for all it’s worth in an attempt to remain on a morphine drip.”

“He’s a child abuser,” Dixie argues. “We saw him hitting Liam and you reacted after years of similar abuse. Can’t she do something about that? Make them see why you did what you did?”

I hold her by the shoulders. “What I did isn’t okay, babe. Besides, Ashley has no idea about my childhood. I know you understand because you care about me and you care about Liam, but that’s not how the justice system works. Bottom line is I took matters into my own hands using excessive force. I committed a crime and there will be a punishment. I knew that. I deserve it.” And I don’t actually regret it, even though I know I should.

I don’t discuss my childhood with anyone, so Ashley wouldn’t know to even attempt to use that defense.

“This sucks, Gav. Seriously. Every mark I see on Liam makes me want to murder Carl myself with my bare hands.”

I can’t help but laugh at my sweet girl talking about murdering someone. “You save those hands for playing Oz, okay?”

“How’s your hand?” She uses her delicate fingers to examine my still-battered knuckles. “Will you be ready by Friday, you think? Honestly?”

I cup her chin and kiss her on the nose. “I’ll manage. I’m tough.”

She frowns and I notice how exhausted she looks. “Yeah, but—”

“But nothing. It’s late, Bluebird. Go to bed and get some rest so we can talk to Sheila in the morning.”

She huffs out a breath and gives me one last hug before mumbling something about me being bossy like Dallas.

After she’s gone, I take care of the reason I came to the bathroom in the first place.

When I go back to the couch, Liam is muttering softly in his sleep. I tense, fully expecting something that might trigger a flashback of my own, but all I can make out is “brinner” and “another marshmallow.”

My life is still a mess, one I’ve mostly made myself, but I fall asleep smiling for the first time in a long time.

The knocking seems to be in perfect rhythm with the ringing of my cell phone. I almost reach for my drumsticks to tap it out. Rubbing the hazy blur out of my eyes, I remember I’m in Dixie’s living room. Sitting up quickly, I glance over and see Liam still sleeping in the tent beside me. The knocking grows more persistent and I have a voice mail.

Sheila Montgomery.

I jump up and trip my way across the room to open the door.

Dark eyes narrow at me. “Did I wake you?”

“Hi. I’m sorry. It was a long night.”

She frowns. “I thought you were done with those.”

I nod. “I am. It was, uh, a different kind of long night.” I open the door wider and gesture to the pillow and blanket and tent fortress.

“Ah. I see.” Sheila steps precariously through the room and makes her way to the couch. “So that’s Liam?”

I nod again. “Yeah. He has marks, scars, and sores. My guess is he’s about fifteen pounds underweight and after seeing Carl hit him for myself, I can imagine what a typical day was like for this kid. That plus the fact that he’s skittish, fixated on death, and his house is the local crack den, I’m not thinking the abuse will be hard to prove.” I remember Dixie’s words from the night before. “He didn’t know what scrambled eggs or hash browns were. Ate like he hadn’t seen food in weeks. Said he doesn’t go to school much, which begs the question, how has the state not already gotten involved?”

“They’re understaffed. You know this, Gavin.”

I sigh and watch Liam toss and turn for a minute. “I know. Still. This shouldn’t have slipped by so many for so long.”

“You did,” she says quietly. “When they did come to question you, you lied and made excuses. Protected her.”

She’s right. I did.

I still do.

“I know. I’m guessing he’s been doing the same. Still . . .”

Sheila watches me carefully. “It looks different on this side, doesn’t it?”

I don’t answer because I don’t know how to. It does seem different. Growing up, I blamed myself for the way my mom was. If she didn’t have to deal with me maybe she wouldn’t have gotten so bad off. But looking at Liam, I can’t think of a single way what happened could have possibly been his fault.

As I got older, when I started using myself, I blamed myself for having drugs around and exposing my mom to temptation. She would always find my stash, no matter what it was. When she would get clean, I laughed at her when she told me she was pulling it together. I’d heard it so many times and it had been a lie so many times, I started being an asshole about it. That might not have caused her to fall back down but it certainly didn’t help.

I run my hands through my hair and pull in some much-needed oxygen. “I assaulted his dad, Sheila. I saw him hit him and I lost it. He’s still in the hospital.”

The creases in her aging face deepen. “Well, that’s not great, Gavin. What did you think that would help?”

“I didn’t think,” I answer honestly. “I just reacted.”

“Time for another round of anger management?”

I nod. “Yeah. Pretty sure I’m going to get the mandatory kind, courtesy of the state of Texas.”

“Could be worse,” she says.

“Agreed. Can I get you some coffee?”

Sheila sets her purse down and I notice a bag with an expensive-looking camera in it. “That’d be great. Then we need to wake him up so I can talk with him and take a few photos of the marks you mentioned and document his weight.”

I glance at Liam, wishing I could let him sleep more before putting the poor kid through this. “Okay. Be right back.”

After I’ve made a pot of coffee and poured Sheila a cup, I knock on Dixie’s door but don’t hear a response. I push it open and she’s standing there in her jeans and a bra. I turn my head quickly. “Sorry. I know it’s early but, um, Sheila is here so . . .”

“I saw the car in the driveway,” she answers while pulling a black tank top over her head. “Be right there.”

I make my way back to the living room and lean down to where Liam is already beginning to stir. “Hey, buddy. Want some breakfast?”

He sits up, his small body wavering a little and his voice scratchy when he speaks. “Do we have dinner for breakfast here?”

I laugh at the genuine interest in his question. “Nah. I was thinking some fruit and yogurt and toast if that’s okay. Miss Dixie eats kind of healthy in the mornings. I guess so she can wolf down bacon and waffles at dinnertime.” I wink at her when she comes into the room at the end of my comment.

She smirks at me. “I have cereal, too, thank you very much, and oatmeal.”

Liam perks up. “I like oatmeal. The kind with apples.”

“On it,” Dixie says, looking hugely relieved that he has a food he likes and nodding briefly at Sheila, who raises her coffee mug in greeting. “Anyone else want oatmeal?”

“I won’t turn it down,” I say.

“I’m good. Thank you, though,” Sheila answers.

“Be right back,” Dixie tells us before disappearing into the kitchen.

I help Liam out of the tent and turn to a channel I think might have cartoons. Sesame Street is on, which seems nuts since I watched it as a kid.

“This okay?”

He nods.

I introduce him to Sheila and his immediate wariness tells me he’s met social workers before. But Sheila is a pro so she puts him at ease pretty quickly, discussing the differences between Bert and Ernie.

They chat amicably for a few minutes before Dixie returns. She hands Liam his oatmeal and a cup of orange juice, setting him up on her grandpa’s chair with a TV tray.

I notice she put some fruit on both of our plates and smile as I thank her.

Sheila gets down to business pretty quickly, taking statements from Dixie and me both and getting Mrs. Lawson’s info as well. When Liam finishes eating, his pace a little slower with the distraction of Big Bird, Sheila asks him if it would be okay if they spoke for a few minutes on the front porch after he changes out of his jammies. She’s already coordinated with Dixie how they’ll get the photos of the marks without upsetting him. Basically Dixie is going to help him change his clothes and Sheila is going to be as discreet as humanly possible.

The three of them go into the bedroom and come back out a few minutes later. Dixie’s face is pale. Too pale. But Liam seems okay.

Sheila tucks her camera into her bag and nods at me as she takes Liam onto the porch to discuss birds.

Dixie takes the empty oatmeal dishes into the kitchen and I follow her. “I know this is hard on you. But trust me, he will be better for it. I imagine my life would’ve been a little different if someone had stepped in when I was his age.”

“I know,” she says somberly. “I’m trying to do that—focus on the positive. But Sheila said it could take a while to get the order in place, to make it to where his dad can’t have him. What if he has to go back there, Gavin? What if—” Her voice breaks before she can finish and I wrap my arms around her out of habit. Or maybe I need the comfort as much as she does.

“He’s not going back to Carl, to that house.” I can’t promise her much, but I can promise her this. I’ll break every bone in Carl’s body and put his ass in traction if I have to. Either way, he will never lay another hand on Liam. Dixie holds me around the waist for a few moments and I revel in the closeness. “I’m sorry about everything—about not telling you, about Ashley and—”

“You have to see her soon?”

I nod. “I do. I have to figure out how to pay her to defend me against the assault charges and we have to discuss my plea and what I can and cannot admit to.”

Her shoulders tense and I rub my face against hers playfully. “I’m going to pay her with money, Bluebird. Please don’t tense up. That way of life is in my past, where it will damn well stay. I’ll pawn my kit if I have to, get her to take that as down payment, and let her garnish my paycheck from the Tavern for the rest. I’ll figure it out.”

“How much will it cost?”

I shrug but Dixie’s eyes turn narrow. We both know this isn’t my first rodeo. “Two thousand—give or take.”

Before she can comment on the dollar amount, the screen door slams and Sheila and Liam return. Dixie pulls away from me and I try not to feel the sting of her absence.

We hear Sheila ask Liam to have a seat in the living room and then she joins us in the kitchen.

Dixie eyes her suspiciously. “Everything okay?”

Sheila nods. “Two things. Carl is out of the hospital and demanding to see his son, which is bad.” That is bad, but it means his injuries might not be extensive enough for me to get charged with anything too terrible. Not that I wouldn’t serve ten to life if it meant he never got his hands on his kid again.

“Okay,” Dixie says slowly. “What do we do about that?”

Sheila’s eyes tighten and I see the lines form on the edges. She’s probably in her fifties but she’s got tan skin, probably because she’s from Puerto Rico and she seems to have stopped aging years ago.

“Right now we’re going to tell him that Mrs. Lawson is lonely and truly enjoying her time with Liam and that we want to let Carl heal up a bit more before he takes Liam back.” Dixie winces visibly at the last part and I drape my arm across her shoulders. “If that doesn’t work, I’m going to see if I can expedite the protection order with a friend of mine at the police department.”

“What if your friend can’t? What if Carl shows up at Mrs. Lawson’s?” The panic is coming through Dixie’s voice loud and clear.

I tighten my grip on her. “Then I’ll—”

“You, sir, will do nothing,” Sheila interrupts, pointing a manicured finger at me. “I mean it. You are awaiting a court date for assaulting him and his order of protection against you is firmly in place.”

I frown but both women give me the do-as-we-say glare and I keep quiet.

“Worst-case scenario, Carl shows up at Mrs. Lawson’s and takes Liam home tonight. If that happens, we get an officer to check in regularly under the guise he’s making sure Carl is safe from Gavin.”

Dixie’s head begins shaking back and forth. “No,” she whispers until she finds her voice. Then louder, “No. You saw the marks yourself. He cannot go anywhere with him.”

Sheila takes a deep breath and glances at me.

“I know it’s upsetting, but Carl does have some extensive injuries and a concussion. It’s unlikely he’ll be getting physical with Liam.”

“Unlikely but not impossible,” Dixie clarifies.

Sheila nods. “Our other option is to place Liam in protective custody tonight and he can go to a temporary guardian until—”

“Can I be a temporary guardian?” Dixie interrupts. “Could he stay with me?”

I don’t know why this surprises me, but Dixie never fails to do what I least expect.

Sheila explains about the necessary paperwork and background check and Dixie demands to have it all right now so she can apply. Sheila gives her a Web address and Dixie lowers herself into a nearby kitchen chair and is online before I can say my own name three times fast.

I suddenly remember Sheila said she had two things to tell us. “What’s the second thing?”

“Liam needs to go back to Mrs. Lawson’s as soon as possible. If Carl were to find out he was here, with you here”—she pauses to gesture at me—“it’s likely he’d be more apt to demand his son back immediately.”

I hadn’t thought about that. Once again, I am the wrench fucking up the works.

“He has to go now?” Dixie looks so disappointed that I want to leave so that Liam can stay. But I don’t want her here alone in case Carl does show up.

“I’m sorry,” Sheila says with genuine regret in her tone. “I can see that you two are obviously getting quite attached to him and I’m glad he has you and that you called me. But these types of cases don’t get settled overnight. There will be the issue of CPS assigning a temporary guardianship and then a permanent situation will have to get approved by a judge, and honestly, if Carl gets help and can convince social services he’s cleaning up his act, there will always be a chance he can get his son back.”

“Carl Andrews will not clean up his act. Not for social services and not for that little boy. I know his type,” I practically growl.

Dixie places her elbows on the table and her head in her hands.

Sheila pats her gently on the shoulder. “Regardless, I need to get to work so I can get this report submitted. I’ll walk Liam over to Mrs. Lawson’s and chat with her as well. Call me if Carl shows up or you have any questions.”

I nod and Sheila goes into the living room. I half-expect Dixie to break down and cry at the bleak news, but instead, she stands, eyes bright and heated.

I watch as she walks purposefully into the living room and leans down to Liam’s level.

“Thank you for camping in with us,” she says, smiling widely even though I know what’s behind the happy mask she’s wearing.

“Thanks for brinner,” Liam says quietly. “I liked it.”

Barely restrained pain ripples across Dixie’s features but she manages. “I’m glad. I’ll be right over here if you need anything. And I’ll come by and check on you before bedtime. Maybe we can play Mrs. Lawson’s piano for a bit?”

Liam’s expression darkens. “I’m not good at it.”

“That’s why we practice, silly. But we don’t have to unless you want to. I thought maybe we’d work on the song from the movie last night. Would that be okay?”

He nods. “Guess so.”

I step over and give him a light fist bump, which he returns more enthusiastically than I would’ve expected. “Later, man,” I tell him. “Thanks for the help with the s’mores.”

We say our goodbyes and Sheila leads him out the door. Once they’re gone, Dixie curls up on her couch, using my bedding from the previous night. She hugs the pillow tightly to her chest and I stand above her feeling unsure. This isn’t something I can fix for her. Not really. Even as much as I wish I could. But there is a glint in her eye and a determined set to her chin and I know that she has made up her mind to handle this herself.

“I’ve got some stuff I need to deal with today but I can stay if you need—”

“I’m fine. I’m going to get online and see what else I can do for Liam. Go do what you need to do,” she answers without looking at me.

“Bluebird . . .” This fucking sucks. Liam can’t be over here because I’m here. I don’t want to leave her alone in case Carl shows up here or next door. But I do need to get my kit ready and take it to the rehearsal space soon and return my boss’s truck before he puts out an APB on it and me. And I need to call Ashley about payment arrangements, which is damn sure not something I want to do in front of Dixie. I meant what I said, though, and since being with her in Austin, I haven’t looked twice at another woman, nor do I ever intend to.