“I need some time . . . to think . . . about all of this,” she says carefully. “I’ll let you know something when you get back from your honeymoon. That okay?”
Dallas’s shoulders sag slightly and his face shows his disappointment, but he doesn’t look surprised by her answer. “Of course. I understand. I want to say take your time but I’ll need to know something soon.”
She nods. “I know. I’ll have an answer as soon as possible. If that’s all, I’m going to head on home. There’s a little boy who keeps showing up for lessons, and I haven’t ever met with his parents, so I’m going to try and catch them before they drop him off. And I still need to get ready for the rehearsal dinner.”
Dallas gives her a quick one-armed hug and the next thing I know she’s breezing right out the door. Lessons?
“Guess you don’t get a goodbye,” he says evenly. “I’ll take that as a bad sign on the current climate between you two. I think it just lowered a few degrees in here.”
I don’t answer. Instead, I just sit back down on the couch and place my head in my hands. There has to be a way to help her understand why.
“She’ll come around, man,” Dallas tells me. “Enough to at least hear you out, I hope.”
I glance up at him. “And the band? You think she can really put what happened behind her and forgive me?”
“I think she can try.”
“Hope so,” I answer dejectedly. “Hey, how long do we have the space for?”
Dallas checks his phone. “About another half hour. You gonna stay and play?”
I nod. I need to work off all this amped-up energy before going to his fancy, formal sit-down dinner.
“Later, man,” he calls on his way out. “Don’t be late tonight. In fact, I’ll pick you up in about an hour or so.”
“Got it.”
Drill Sergeant Dallas may have retired but he’s still Dallas. Dude will probably make a damn good dad.
Once he’s gone I set up my kit and play until my arms ache. I’m sweaty and tired and I still have to return the truck and shower, but knowing I’ll get to see her again, even if only for a little while, even if from a distance, keeps me motivated.
I return Mr. Kyung’s truck and purchase the few groceries I need for the week, basic stuff that fits into one bag. I practically jog home knowing I need to shower again, but I stop short when I see the front door isn’t closed all the way.
I closed it when I left.
I know I did.
Locked it, too.
“Hello? Someone here?” I practically yell as I pull open the screen door. “Something I can help you with?” Like a busted fucking face. My arms are tired but they aren’t that tired.
When no one answers and I don’t hear even the slightest sounds of movement, I head into the kitchen figuring my mom came by and raided her stash before leaving again. I shift the bag of groceries to my other hand but they fall to the floor when I step into the kitchen.
My mom’s here, all right.
Unconscious on the kitchen floor.
3 | Dixie
“HE’S NOT COMING,” Dallas says as he hangs up the phone. I knew when he arrived at his rehearsal dinner without Gavin that something was wrong.
“Everything okay?” Robyn asks and I’m grateful she begs the question before I do. Every time I so much as mention Gavin’s name I get the pity look, and frankly, it’s getting old. I smooth the black knee-length dress I’m wearing and strain to hear Dallas’s answer. All I catch is “had to work,” so I’m guessing that explains Gavin’s absence. Or is a lame attempt at explaining it, anyway. Dallas didn’t sound too convinced and the line between his brows has made an appearance.
I barely made it on time myself—practically had to sprint inside after my lesson with the troubled little boy whose parents I have still yet to meet ran a little long
“The wedding coordinator is ready for y’all,” I tell them when I see the gray-haired lady motioning maniacally. “Like five minutes ago.”