Page 4 of The Rebel with Broken Strings
He didn’t let her finish. “I know what I saw, what we did. It was you.”
“Wasn’t me,” Aubrey said over her shoulder, giving him a fine view of her incredible ass in her blue jeans that he could never have forgotten. “You’ve got it all wrong. I didn’t even go to your concert.”
“Then who the hell was I with?” Gunner snapped.
“God knows!” she shot back. “But it wasn’t me!”
He leaned against the doorframe, crossed his arms and snorted. “That unforgettable week, your laugh, the way you moved, your goddamn moans—it’s all stuck in my head, Aubrey.”
“You are legit delusional,” Aubrey spat, turning toward him with a fiery stare. “You need to get over this.”
The denial stung, cutting deeper than Gunner had anticipated. Her words were like a sucker punch, leaving him winded. He’d known this wouldn’t be easy, but he hadn’t expected she’d hold out this long. The old Gunner might have retreated, seeking solace in a handful of pills. But he wasn’t that man anymore. He’d done the work, gotten sober and healed the parts of himself that had needed healing. He worked at that every single day.
“I know you must hate me,” he said, his voice intense, thinking back to how he’d left her naked in that hotel bed without another word from him, “but I’m not the same person I was back then. I’ve changed.”
For a fleeting moment, something flickered in Aubrey’s deep blue eyes—a hint of vulnerability that made his heart skip. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by a steely resolve.
“Listen, Gunner,” she said, her voice softening slightly. “I don’t know how many times I can say this for you to understand, but you need to drop this.”
He took another step closer, close enough now to catch the faint scent of her perfume. It transported him back to that hot week together, where he swore he could still taste her on his lips. “Is that really what you want me to do?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “For me to forget those days we had? To forget what we shared?”
Her breath hitched, and for a moment, Gunner thought he’d broken through her defenses. But then she squared her shoulders, her expression hardening once more.
“What I want,” she said firmly, “is for you to leave me alone.”
The finality in her tone left no room for argument. Gunner gave a final nod, swallowing the lump in his throat. As he turned to go, he caught one last glimpse of her face. Behind the mask of indifference, he saw a flicker of something else—regret, maybe. Or longing.
It wasn’t much, but it was enough to kindle a spark of hope in his chest. He might have lost this battle, but the war was far from over.
Back outside, his boots crunched on the snow-covered gravel driveway as his breath fogged out in the frigid winter air. The sting of Aubrey’s denial burned in his chest, mixing with the guilt that had always stayed on his mind since he’d left her in the hotel room. He removed his cowboy hat and ran a hand through his blond hair, exhaling slowly, before sliding it back onto his head.
“Damn,” he muttered to himself, heading toward the campfire, cringing against the ache in his thigh from the two surgeries he’d endured after the ATV he’d been riding flipped and landed on his leg, breaking it in three places. The pain there was a constant reminder of how far he’d fallen. How he’d become a man he hated. A bad boy, a rebel, the tabloids had called him. But the pain didn’t remind him of all he’d done wrong anymore. The pain was a reminder of how much he’d risen back up.
As Gunner approached, Eli—his childhood friend and fellow Timber Falls Ranch cowboy—looked up, concern etched in his wise green eyes, his dark hair peeking out beneath his black cowboy hat. “Everything all right, man?” Eli asked.
Gunner took a seat on the log next to Eli, grateful for the warmth of the fire. “Yeah,” he lied, grabbing another beer from the cooler next to him.
Eli’s girlfriend, and one of Aubrey’s best friends, Willow, gave him a little smile that almost looked like pity.
Gunner cracked open his beer and took a long sip, trying to shake off the lingering tension, just as Jaxon called, “We’ve got some news.” His sandy blond hair stuck out beneath his own cowboy hat, his hazel eyes sharp.
Gunner looked up to see Jaxon approaching the campfire, with Charly, the other woman in Aubrey’s trio of best friends, striding next to him. The firelight danced across Charly’s warm brown eyes and caught the highlights in her brunette hair beneath her wool beanie.
“Jaxon and I have decided not to wait too long to get married,” Charly announced, her voice brimming with excitement. “We’re having a small wedding right here at the ranch in the spring.”
Gunner’s eyebrows shot up, a grin spreading across his face, aimed at Jaxon. “Smart plan. Lock her down before she can change her mind.”
Charly laughed, but Jaxon just grinned and gave Gunner a rude gesture with his finger, which made him chuckle.
Eli chimed in, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “You know what this means, don’t you, Gunner? We’re at the lady’s beck and call now.”
Gunner laughed, tipping his cowboy hat toward Charly. “Whatever the bride needs, ma’am. Just say the word.”
Dead serious, Charly said, “Oh, you boys might regret that offer.”
Willow agreed with a firm nod. “Kiss your lazy Sundays goodbye.”
As the group chuckled, Gunner felt a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the fire. This, he thought, was what it meant to belong somewhere. To be part of something bigger than himself. For a moment, his demons seemed far away, until Decker’s fingers found their home on the guitar strings.
