Barry has a daughter my age, Mandy told him, and he’s an old-fashioned guy. Said the road was no place for a young lady. I checked online and sure enough, his label leaned much heavier on the male artist side. I suspected I would not like Barry very much.
“I’m not bailing on you, Dallas. I’m stepping aside so that I don’t get in your way. I’m letting you go instead of holding you back.”
“You’re not in my way, Dix. You’re part of this band. And once Barry sees what you can do and how talented you are—”
“I’m twenty years old, Dallas. I think it’s time I stopped tagging along on your adventures. Don’t you?” I don’t believe the words coming out of my mouth, and they taste like I imagine poison might—bitter and acidic—but they have to be said. It’s the only way. It’s my turn to take care of him.
“We are the band. You, me, and Gavin. There is no band without you.”
I wait quietly on the couch for him to accept that I’m not going. There is so much to handle here since Papa passed away and running back out on the road feels like abandoning his memory. As hard as it is to shove Dallas toward his dream, a part of me is thankful I can take care of all that Papa left behind.
Gavin taps his hands steadily on the couch across from me.
My brother shoots him a pleading look. “Gavin. Please tell her to get her ass in the truck and let’s go.”
I watch as Gavin stills and then shakes his head. “This is her decision. It’s time you started letting her make her own.”
I try to look at him with gratitude to let him know I appreciate his support, but I worry he’ll see too much truth in my eyes when I’m busy trying to sell my brother a lie.
“He’s right,” I choke out. “And there are things you don’t know about Nana and Papa. They had plans before us, Dallas. Plans we kept them from getting to live out. We held them back. I won’t do that to you. Not anymore.”
“What in the world are you even talking about? Nana and Papa chose to raise us. We could’ve went into foster care when Mom and Dad died or gone to live with Aunt Sheila in Oklahoma. They wanted us, Dix. So whatever parallel you’re trying to draw here is moot.”
“Moot?” I say, smirking at him and glad for the tension to be easing out of the room.
“Yes, moot,” he confirms, folding his arms over his chest. “Now let’s go.”
I shake my head, then stand and open the front door for them. “I love you, big brother. I wish you the absolute best of luck—both of you. Really. But I have things I need to handle here. Go ahead and see this Barry guy and let me know how it goes. If he decides you desperately need a fiddle player in the band, I’ll see what I can do. But right now I’d just be in your way.”
The stare-down continues for several minutes until I flick my wrists toward the door in a shooing motion.
They both walk outside reluctantly, as if I’ve sentenced them to death. It’s ridiculous since they’ve played without me several times and done just fine. After the showcase in Nashville, I’m grateful I never had to actually see any of those times for myself, but at least I know they can manage without me. And it feels good knowing that they care—that they want me even if record execs don’t.
I sit on the porch swing and pull my legs to my chest, giving them both my biggest, bravest smile. “Call me and let me know how it goes, okay?”
My brother leans down to hug me goodbye and lingers before pulling away. “You don’t have to do this, Dix. I really believe once he sees how great you are he’ll be glad we have a fiddle in the band.”
“You are going to blow him away, Dallas. You don’t need me.”