I sigh harder than necessary. “Yes and no. He’s in it. And I imagine he’ll have . . . someone.”
Jag studies me for a full minute as if I am a complicated creature he can’t seem to figure out.
“Tell you what, I’ll come to the wedding,” he tells me on a sigh. “On one condition,” he clarifies when I grin at him. I nod and he continues. “We can ride together but if either of us decides to leave with someone else, no hard feelings.”
“So I’ll be your wingman?” I can’t help but laugh.
“More like a wingwoman,” he says, nudging me gently. “But I’m betting it will be you I lose to someone else—not the other way around.”
There is disappointment etched into a forced smile on his face. “Jag,” I whine softly. “Please don’t—”
“I’m not,” he says, holding both hands up. “Just be careful, please. Garrison is trouble and he’ll never be good enough for you as far as I’m concerned. But I’ll mind my own business.” He nods toward my hip. “Except about that. Go clean that up, please.”
“Going,” I say, tossing the bloody rag in the dirty pile before I head into the bathroom.
While I’m cleaning out my wound and trying not to pass out, I think about what he said. Why is it people are always telling you you’re too good for the one you can’t have? I’ve never thought of Gavin as someone I was better than—for that matter, I’ve never considered myself better than anyone. We’re all made of the same stuff—just some of us were dealt different cards. Gavin got a shitty set of cards and my deck wasn’t all that great, but somehow, when we’re together, none of that matters. Dallas, Gavin, and I have always been a family. Now that Dallas has Robyn and a baby on the way, he has his own family and I feel like I’m just . . . existing. Being with Gavin was the last time I felt truly alive—like I finally belonged where I was meant to be. In his arms. But like all happiness, it was fleeting.
He was here. Right down the street and he didn’t even bother to call me. Maybe I’m being overly sensitive, but maybe not. It hurts. A lot. And it makes me angry as hell. After everything we’ve been through over the years he still didn’t deem me worthy of a call? A text?
Hey, Bluebird. About that whole waiting-for-me thing? Never mind. I’m home but I have zero interest in seeing you. Take care!
Ugh. None of it makes sense. Only after I busted him in a bar with some blonde did he start calling and texting asking for a chance to explain.
Too little, too late, drummer boy.
I probably would’ve given in eventually, though. Maybe he knew that, because after a few days, his calls and texts stopped.
I’ve analyzed and overanalyzed every moment we spent together in Austin, everything he said before he left me in Amarillo, and each message sent since then. I’ve yet to reach a conclusion about the motivations and intentions of Gavin Garrison.
Papa used to say living your life was like driving a car. While it’s necessary to glance back every now and then, it’s much more important to watch where you are going than dwell on where you’ve been. I won’t be that girl anymore, the one that determines her self-worth or lack thereof based on one guy’s ability to notice her.
I glance up into the hazy mirror and look at my own faded reflection.
Gavin Garrison is so much more than just a guy I like—more than an infatuation or an addiction. In my heart, he’s my past, present, and future. I just don’t know if he wants to be. Or if I’m willing to put myself out there again and ask him to be.