Page 109 of Ever With Me

“So the man who wrote this song came into my life recently...when I really needed it. He helped me get my feet back on the ground on a night when I was having a tough time and needed a friend. He’s a pretty amazing person and musician, so I’m sure you’ll recognize the song, and I promised to show him a side of our town that would help him see why Brandywood is the best. A place of warmth and forgiveness. Where when someone makes a mistake, we do our best to extend the hand, make things better. Work to settle our differences. We support our own, but we also welcome strangers. So this song is for you, Brandywood. I love you.”

More applause this time, stronger than before.

She drew a shaky breath.Here goes nothing.

The familiar music began from the speakers, and she put the microphone back in the stand, trying to relax.

You can do this, Maddie.

Somehow, the words came, as though her voice knew what to do, even if her brain was going into overdrive. Singing had never felt like she had as much on the line, and she loathed that the Stricklands and their ilk were out there, probably judging her.

And then there’s Naomi, who avoided me all day again.

Don’t think about that.

The easier the words and melody came, the more her body relaxed into it. Her voice wasn’t perfect, she knew that, but it was strong and she could carry a tune without being pitchy.

Crack.

The music and spotlight went out.

Maddie froze, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the hanging string lights.

What the hell just happened?

Her stomach plummeted, her eyes scanning the face of the audience that grew clearer by the second. The guy handling the sound booth and light was on his hands and knees in front of the booth, scrambling for an unplugged cord . . .

No.

It wasn’t possible. The Stricklands wouldn’t sink this low, would they?

The audience was looking back at the sound booth now, exchanging glances. She saw the faces of her family in the audience, near the front row . . . Mom and Dad, Jake, Naomi and her husband, Lindsay and Travis . . . Logan, Kayla, and Audrey . . .

Brooks stood up from beside his sister, no sunglasses this time. He’d taken his hat off, too.

In a few fluid steps, he snatched a guitar that was set up on stage. Throwing the strap around his shoulder, he came closer and whispered, “Just start from that verse again.”

Her heart throbbed as he played, the guitar’s sounds bright with a confidence that his expert hands evoked. Not like the quiet strumming from the other night, but someone who knew this melody like the back of his hand.

Because he does.

Her throat thickened with emotion, then she cleared it and sang, trying to keep her voice steady.

A cheer went up from the audience, bolstering her confidence.

Brooks stayed in the background, not intruding as she continued. She’d heard acoustic versions of “Wildfire” before, but for him to be her accompaniment?Sheer. Magic.

She could barely process it.

It wasn’t just that he’d rescued her from a situation meant to humiliate her.

Or that she might sing this better than she’d been before.

But . . . Brooks Kent, rock star, celebrity, whatever else he was . . .

. . . might actually be her friend.

When the song ended, the audience collectively seemed to hold their breath.

---