Page 68 of The Rebel with Broken Strings
“Can we take a photo with you?” the other woman chimed in, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
Gunner forced a smile and stood behind them as they took the photo.
“Thank you so much!” the woman exclaimed with gratitude.
He gave a small nod before walking away, the taste of his past troubles lingering in his mouth. It was a stark reminder that even in a city bursting with life, he could still feel completely alone.
* * *
The bell chimed as the door of The Naked Moose swung shut behind Aubrey with a resounding thud, her boot heels clicking against the worn floorboards as she began closing for the night. The silence enveloped her like a thick blanket, a welcome relief from the boisterous energy that had filled the space just hours ago. Her gaze swept across the empty tables, lingering on the stage where Gunner had once stood, his voice weaving magic through the air.
They’d texted all day long, and into the night. When they weren’t texting, they FaceTimed, but it didn’t feel like enough. Timber Falls felt empty without Gunner there. And Aubrey felt like she was torn in two. Timber Falls seemed even quieter now. She missed Atlanta. The sense of life there. And the bar was too damn busy for her to fly out to see Gunner.
A familiar ache bloomed in her chest as she made her way behind the bar, her fingers trailing along the polished surface. “Another night over,” she murmured to herself, reaching for a rag to wipe down the counter. The motions were automatic, ingrained now.
As she worked, her mind wandered to the day’s events, replaying moments like a worn-out record. The laughter of patrons, the clink of glasses and always, always, Gunner’s missing presence, magnetic and undeniable. She paused, gripping the edge of the counter as a wave of longing washed over her.
“Get it together, Hale,” she chastised herself, but her voice lacked its usual edge. The tough exterior she’d cultivated since fleeing Atlanta felt paper-thin tonight, barely concealing the vulnerability beneath.
Her gaze drifted to the bottles of beer in the fridge, Gunner’s favorite. Without thinking, she reached for one, cracked it open. The amber liquid caught the low light, reminding her of the warmth in his eyes when he smiled at her.
“What are you doing to me, cowboy?” Aubrey whispered, bringing the glass to her lips but not drinking. The scent of the beer enveloped her, and suddenly she was back in Atlanta, that first night when their paths had crossed, and their journey began.
She set the bottle down with a soft clink, her hand trembling slightly. “This isn’t me,” she said aloud, her voice echoing in the empty bar. “I had a plan. Move to Timber Falls. Be happy.”
But even as the words left her lips, Aubrey knew they were a lie. She had never been happy with small-town life. Not truly. She missed the big city, and Gunner had burrowed his way into her heart, past all her carefully constructed defenses. He understood her in a way no one else had, seeing past the tough-as-nails exterior to the woman beneath who longed for connection, for home.
“Damn it,” she muttered, running a hand through her hair. When did Timber Falls become home? When didhe?
Nothing felt right. Everything felt…messy.
The questions hung in the air, unanswered, as Aubrey resumed her cleaning. But try as she might, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something fundamental had shifted. The life she’d built here, the walls she’d erected—they were crumbling, and at the center of it all stood Gunner Woods, guitar in hand and that crooked smile on his lips, beckoning her toward a future she’d never dared to imagine.
One where she might just be able to have everything that she ever wanted, if only she dared to trust him.
And she realized in the very depths of her heart, shecouldanddidtrust him. He wasn’t her father. He wasn’t Chef Bisset. He was...Gunner—strong, kind and fighting for the same happiness she was.
The soft creak of the back room door broke through Aubrey’s thoughts. She looked up, her eyes widening as Willow and Charly emerged, their faces etched with concern.
Willow exchanged a knowing glance with Charly. “You okay?” she asked, her voice gentle but laced with the strength that had seen her through her own struggles.
Aubrey’s fingers tightened around the rag she’d been using to wipe down the bar. “I’m fine,” she said automatically, the words feeling hollow even as they left her lips.
Charly moved closer, her warm eyes searching Aubrey’s face. “You don’t look fine,” she said softly. “Is this about Gunner?”
The name sent a jolt through Aubrey’s system. She took a deep breath. “I…” she began, her voice catching. “I miss him. God, I miss him so much it hurts.”
The admission hung in the air, heavy with vulnerability. Her mind raced, torn between the urge to backpedal and the desperate need to unburden herself.
“Nothing feels right without him here,” she continued, the words tumbling out now. “I keep expecting to hear his guitar, to see that charming grin of his. And I hate it. I hate feeling this dependent.”
Willow reached across the bar, her hand covering Aubrey’s. “It’s okay to need someone. It doesn’t make you weak.”
Aubrey met her friend’s gaze. “Doesn’t it, though?” she whispered, voicing the doubt that had been gnawing at her since Gunner’s departure.
Willow’s eyes softened, her protective nature shining through as she offered Aubrey a reassuring smile. “No, it doesn’t,” she said firmly. “Feeling deeply for someone, missing them, that’s strength. It means you’ve opened your heart enough to let him in, despite everything you’ve been through.”
Aubrey’s chest tightened at Willow’s words. She thought of the walls she’d built after fleeing Atlanta, the way she’d kept everyone at arm’s length. Until Gunner. His soulful eyes and that damned charming drawl had wormed their way past her defenses.
