Because I need to say them. I have to get them out or I am going to go back to that withering flower of a girl and if the wind blows, those pieces of my heart will be like dandelion seeds scattering on the breeze.
I retrieve Oz from his case, keeping my back to Gavin and Dallas as they set up. They’re joking around, talking about some of the girls they’ve seen in Austin. My brother makes a comment about appreciating that the heat of summer brings short skirts out of hibernation. Gavin’s resounding laughter washes over me along with a wave of nausea. Dallas says something about a local hot spot where some girls want to meet up with them after tonight’s show, but the ringing in my ears drowns out the details.
I wish they’d shut the hell up already and get on with it. I just want to play. Playing would be enough to hold me together. The music would wash away the hurt their jubilant exchange is causing. But neither one of them seems to be in a hurry to get started, and standing here listening to them making plans to go out and pick up girls I cannot do.
“I need to take five,” I say, despite the fact that we haven’t even started. I attempt to set Oz down carefully, but I hear my bow clatter to the ground on my way out.
Chapter 9
TEMPORARILY BLINDED BY SUNLIGHT GLARING IN MY EYES, I MAKE my way by memory to the alley beside the warehouse. Leaning over and bracing my hands on my knees, I do my best to pull the scattered pieces of myself together.
Dallas will be angry, and Gavin will likely be wondering if I’ve completely lost my mind.
“You okay, Bluebird?”
No.
For the first time in my life, I don’t want to see him. I wish my brother had come to check on me instead. Because if he had, I could have fallen back on the female problems thing and laughed my outburst off, blamed it on hormones, and returned to rehearsal like nothing had ever happened. But those gray-green eyes are clouded with concern and all I can do is tell him the truth. I’m surrendering in the battle and handing over my heart. Along with the razor and the road map to the places where he can cut me the deepest.
I shake my head as he comes closer. Gavin blocks the glinting sun and it shines around him, creating an angelic effect around my tattooed tortured soul mate.
“I should’ve been honest. I should’ve told you sooner, no matter what Dallas said.” A small sound escapes and I rush on. “Then maybe I wouldn’t be coming apart at the seams during the most important week of our lives. I guess it’s true what they say about hindsight.”
He stares at me as if I’ve launched into a foreign language he doesn’t speak. “I don’t know what you’re—”
“I came home for Papa, everyone knows that. I came home to help take care of him so that Dallas wouldn’t have to deal with everything alone. But there’s more to it than that.” Taking a deep breath, I tell him the gut-twisting truth. “I came home for you, too, Gav.”
He’s going to walk away again, just like last night. I can already see his plans for retreat forming behind his eyes. But I have to get it out, consequences be damned.
“I hated my life in Houston. Being away from you . . . It felt—I felt like there was this magnetic pull. Like you needed me, or we needed each other. But this is even harder than being away. Being so close when I can’t . . .” My words are becoming raspy, choking me on their way out. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore. I’ve tried so hard to just deal with it alone. Everything is suddenly happening for us and I know I should just be grateful that we’re here and that this is my chance to escape the orchestra pit, but spending the rest of my life like this—on the road together but . . .” I can’t even put it into words, because it’s impossible to articulate what I need. And I’m running out of oxygen.