Page 30 of We Redeemed the Rain

I laughed.

“Do you take song requests?”

“Yeah! But if it’s written after 1999, I probably won’t know it. My family only listens to oldies and classics.”

“Do you knowAmerican Pie?”

I hummed a few bars to jog my memory. “I might be able to figure that one out.” My fingers launched into the song, picking out the melody as I strummed the chords. I stumbled in a few places, especially during the lyrical verses. But he sat back, slipping his hands behind his head and crossing his ankles.

After the final strum, I flattened my hand against the vibrating strings.

His softwowcaused my face to explode with heat.

“You are really good.”

“Thanks.”

“Play one of your favorites.”

“Oh, jeez. I love every song.”

“Then play something new. Something you recently learned.”

My fingers plucked around, waiting for Glory to cue me. “I like Coldplay. Do you know them?”

“Think I’ve heard a few of their songs.”

“I learnedYellowlast week. It’s super easy, but I like the words.”

He said nothing, just waited. I played and sang that time, myheart trembling a little, hoping he would like my singing voice. My fingers shook over easy chords, and I closed my eyes as I felt his gaze on me. When I finished, a moment of silence enveloped us. My body tensed, waiting for his response.

He shifted forward. “You gonna be famous one day, Strings?”

I exhaled in relief then shrugged like his asking didn’t faze me. But I wanted to kiss him for suggesting I was good enough to make it big. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want to?”

“Maybe. But big stages kind of scare me. I normally just play for the people I love.”

“Are there lots of people you love?”

“Sure. My family. Friends.”

He nodded, falling silent. Then twisted—weaved, actually—hay through his fingers.

“What about you? Are there people you love to share horses with?”

He shook his head, gave a half shrug. “I prefer being alone.”

That was foreign to me. But I nodded like I understood. “Okay, then. Now tell me one thing that makes you sad.”

He huffed. “You’re very nosy.”

“Oh yes, very.”

I waited for his answer as he absently studied the Texas horizon. At last, when the silence was nearing uncomfortable, he whispered, “Rain. Rain makes me sad.”

I loved a good rain storm. “Because you can’t be with your horses?”

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