Page 22 of The Rebel with Broken Strings
Aubrey couldn’t tear her gaze away. This was a side of Gunner she’d never seen—gentle, nurturing, almost…paternal.
“I wonder what that’s all about,” Aubrey mused, her curiosity piqued despite herself. She watched as Gunner guided the pair to a table, his hand resting protectively on the girl’s shoulder.
For a moment, their eyes met across the room. Gunner’s lips curved into a slow, easy smile that sent a jolt through Aubrey’s system. She quickly looked away, busying herself with glasses, all too aware of the heat rising in her cheeks.
But her brow furrowed as she tried to piece together the puzzle before her. What was Gunner doing with this girl and her mother? The tenderness in his interactions seemed so at odds with the brash, confident performer she knew.
“It’s not his kid.” Charly’s warm voice cut through her musings as she sidled next to her.
Aubrey raised an eyebrow, curiosity getting the better of her. “Oh?”
Charly leaned in. “That’s Emily and her mom, Sarah. Gunner’s mentoring Emily for the afterschool music program. Can you believe it? He’s helping her overcome stage fright.”
Aubrey’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“I know, right?” Charly grinned. “Turns out he’s got quite the soft spot for kids.”
As Aubrey processed this information, her gaze drifted back to Gunner. He was leaning in, demonstrating something on his guitar, Emily watching with rapt attention, holding on to hers.
“Interesting,” Aubrey murmured.
Shaking herself from her reverie, Aubrey reached for the pitcher of homemade iced tea she’d prepared earlier. “I should probably get them something to drink,” she said, more to herself than to Charly.
As she fixed their drinks, Aubrey found herself hyperaware of Gunner’s presence. The way his voice carried, low and melodic, as he explained chord progressions. The gentleness in his touch as he adjusted Emily’s fingers on her guitar neck.
Approaching the table, Aubrey plastered on her best hostess smile. “Thought y’all might be thirsty,” she said, setting down glasses of tea. “It’s my own special blend.”
Gunner looked up, those rebellious eyes catching hers. “Thanks, Aubrey,” he said, his voice warm.
Something in his tone made her pause, a flicker of…something…passing between them. Aubrey swallowed hard. “It’s my pleasure,” she managed, her voice steadier than she felt. As she turned to leave, she heard Emily’s shy “Thank you.”
Back behind the bar, Aubrey found herself stealing glances at the unlikely trio. The easy camaraderie, the patient explanations, the proud smile on Gunner’s face when Emily got something right—it all painted a picture so different from the man she thought she knew. A man that was so unlike her father, who had no part in her life whatsoever.
Twenty minutes later, Gunner rose from his seat, guitar in hand, and gestured toward the small stage at the far end of the bar. “Ready to give it a shot?”
Emily hesitated, her fingers tightening around her own instrument. “I… I don’t know if I can,” she whispered, eyes darting nervously around the mostly empty bar.
Aubrey found herself holding her breath, watching the scene unfold.
Gunner knelt beside Emily, his voice low but carrying in the quiet. “Remember what we talked about? It’s just you and the music. Everything else fades away.” He gestured toward the bar. “And the only people here are my friends. You can trust them all.”
As Emily nodded and took a shaky step toward the stage, Aubrey’s heart clenched. She recognized that fear, that overwhelming self-doubt. How many times had she felt it herself, facing a new challenge after school and in an unfamiliar kitchen?
The pair settled onto stools on the stage, adjusting their guitars. Gunner started a simple melody, his fingers dancing over the strings with practiced ease. He nodded to Emily, encouraging her to join in.
The girl’s first few notes were hesitant, barely audible. But as Gunner’s steady rhythm continued, Emily’s confidence grew. Their guitars blended, creating a sweet harmony that filled the air.
Aubrey leaned against the bar, mesmerized. She’d heard Gunner perform countless times, but this was different. The gentleness in his eyes, the patient nods as Emily found her rhythm—it all made a warmth spread through her chest.
As the impromptu duet continued, Aubrey found herself torn. The walls she’d built around her heart, reinforced by past hurts and disappointments, suddenly felt less impenetrable.“What if…?”
She shook her head, trying to dismiss the thought. But as Gunner’s eyes met hers over Emily’s bowed head, a familiar spark of connection passed between them. For just a moment, Aubrey allowed herself to see the man before her now, instead of the one that left her naked and alone in the hotel room.
And if she was honest with herself, she liked what she saw.
Seven
One week later, on a Sunday—the only day the bar was closed—Aubrey found herself gazing out the passenger window while Willow drove, watching the rugged terrain roll by. The winding road stretched before them, a ribbon of asphalt cutting through the snow-dusted Montana landscape. The vastness of it all still took her breath away, so different from the crowded cityscape she’d left behind in Atlanta, and that she missed with an ache that just wouldn’t quit.
