It made sense. I’d nodded along. “Yeah, okay. So what about the managers and the producers? They just want to fuck you, too?”
He looked at me like I’d said something amusing. “Pretty much. They want me to leave my band, tell guys who’ve sacrificed just as much as I have and who are just as talented and driven if not more so, to take a hike so I can be the star of their bullshit show. I’d be a hell of a lot easier to manipulate on my own, without these guys having my back.”
His words had struck a chord in me, one that had been exposed since I’d left Dixie and Gavin behind to pursue this alone.
“You’re a more honorable man than I,” I told him. “Most people wouldn’t care so long as it meant they got what they wanted.”
“Most people include you?”
I’d shrugged like it wasn’t twisting my guts to hell and back to talk about. “I’d rather have my sister and my drummer with me, yeah. But it just wasn’t the way it worked out.”
Afton had stared off into the distance for a long time, watching some girl duo perform onstage before he spoke. “Maybe that’s why I’m struggling to accept anyone else’s input on my career. I’m too much of a control freak to let it just work itself out. I’m willing to work for it until I get it right.”
That brief exchange was still jammed in my subconscious. Maybe I’d fucked up. Maybe I shouldn’t have taken the first offer I’d gotten. I could’ve waited. Could’ve told Mandy I’d get in touch once Gavin had his probation worked out and Dixie was in a place where she could move past her grief. But I’d forced Dixie to suck it up and move on when our parents died; I thought I was doing what was best for her. I wouldn’t do that again. This time I backed off and let her wallow if that’s what she needed. Apparently a road trip had helped but by the time she was done traveling, I was already on Wade’s tour and magically transformed into Dallas Walker, solo act.
There are two men inside of me: one I know well and one I am still getting acquainted with.
One of them tells me that Wade’s life isn’t so bad. Besides, I won’t be stupid enough to get married and have to deal with that brand of hurt. But the other man in me, the one my dad raised to look out for his sister, the one my grandparents taught to believe in the integrity of music and of myself, he’s still stuck on Afton’s declaration. And not just where music is concerned.
Maybe I let Robyn go too easily. Maybe I should’ve fought for her, tried to make it work in a way that we both could handle and be happy with instead of just stepping aside to clear the way for the next guy. I walked away once before and I haven’t stopped regretting it.
Robyn made a comment once, about how it was hard to tell if we were getting a second chance or making the same mistake twice. I voted second chance. She looked dubious. I don’t know how I’m going to keep from making the same mistake twice, but somehow I have to try. One thing is for sure. I owe her an apology for not hearing her out. Not tonight, because I look and feel like shit, but I have to figure out a way to throw my hat in the ring before I leave the damn country.
34 | Robyn
WHEN THE KNOCK COMES, MY HEART NEARLY LEAPS OUT OF MY chest. Climbing out of the nest I’ve made myself on my couch, I try to work out in my head the words I’m going to say. They’re like a puzzle with a bunch of pieces that don’t fit. There has to be some way to tell him what I need to in a way that will soften the blow.
“Remember how you mentioned being afraid a groupie would get knocked up on purpose just to trap you and tie herself to you for life? No need to worry about that anymore. I got it covered,” just doesn’t come off as gently as I would like for it to.
But when I open my door, it isn’t Dallas standing there. It’s his manager.