Page 59 of The Rebel with Broken Strings
“So,” Aubrey said, her voice soft but direct, “looks like another hit is coming.”
“Maybe,” he replied with a smile.
They moved to a quiet corner of the studio, away from the bustle. Aubrey’s fingers brushed his arm, sending a jolt through him. “That song, Gunner, it was beautiful.”
He met her gaze, seeing the vulnerability there that matched his own. “It’s our story, Aubrey. Every word of it.”
He smiled, feeling a sense of pride and satisfaction at her words. Creating music was his passion, his escape, his way of expressing himself in a world that often left him feeling misunderstood. And to have someone like her, someone who understood him on a level that no one else did, witness it was a rare and special gift.
“It is.” She smiled.
“You know me too well,” he said.
She laughed, a light and carefree sound that filled him with warmth. “I should hope so. After all, I am your muse.”
He reached out, pulling her into his arms and holding her close. “And my heart,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
The studio bustled around them, but Gunner felt a moment of clarity amidst the chaos. He straightened up. “All right, let’s get out of here. Let me show you my Nashville. The real one, not just the glitz and glamour.”
Aubrey’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You’re not exhausted?”
He shook his head. “No, and we only have tonight here. Let’s make the most of it.” He grinned. “I want to share this part of my world with you.”
Her lips curved into a soft smile. “I’d love that,” she breathed, her voice tinged with a warmth that made his heart skip. “Show me your Nashville.”
As the heavy studio door swung shut behind them, Gunner’s calloused fingers intertwined with Aubrey’s, sending a jolt of electricity up his arm. The neon lights of Lower Broadway flickered to life, painting the twilight sky in a kaleidoscope of colors. Gunner inhaled deeply, the familiar scents of whiskey and barbecue making him feel as at home as he did in Timber Falls.
They strolled down the bustling sidewalk, their joined hands swinging between them. Gunner’s heart swelled with pride as he watched Aubrey take in the sights and sounds of Music City. He pointed to a weathered brick building with a faded mural.
“That there’s where I played my first real gig,” he told her.
Aubrey squeezed his hand. “I bet you were amazing.”
Gunner chuckled, remembering his nervous, fumbling fingers. “Amazing might be a stretch, but I sure as hell gave it my all.”
As they passed honky-tonks and cowboy boot shops, Gunner shared stories of late-night jam sessions and chance encounters with country music legends. Aubrey listened intently, her eyes wide with curiosity and a hint of something else—admiration, maybe?
“And over there,” Gunner said, gesturing to a small park, “is where I wrote my first hit song. Sat on that bench for hours, pouring my heart out onto paper.”
Aubrey’s gaze softened. “What was it about?”
Gunner paused, his throat tightening with emotion. “Loss. The kind of heartache that changes a person.”
He felt Aubrey stiffen beside him, and he wondered if she was thinking about her own past hurts. The air between them crackled with unspoken words and shared understanding.
“Sometimes,” Aubrey said softly, “the most beautiful things come from our deepest pain.”
Gunner’s heart skipped a beat. In that moment, surrounded by the pulsing energy of Nashville and the warmth of Aubrey’s presence, he felt a glimmer of hope for the future—theirfuture. He had thought he had lost hope forever, but here it was, like a powerful light breaking through his darkest clouds.
He squeezed Aubrey’s hand tight and felt a sense of peace wash over him. He had no idea what the future held, but in that moment, with Aubrey by his side, he could only say, “I’m damn glad you’re here with me.”
Her smile was sweet and warmed him from head to toe. “I’m happy too.”
Eighteen
Aubrey couldn’t fight her smile as she stepped into the legendary Bluebird Cafe, the pulsing energy of Nashville’s music scene washing over her. It was a dimly lit space, filled with the warm hum of voices and the soft strumming of guitars. The stage was modest, but it held an unmistakable magic, like a portal to a world of endless possibility.
She glanced at Gunner, his rugged features softened by the amber glow, and felt a flutter in her chest. He had brought her here as a surprise, showing her more of his life. She couldn’t believe she was actually standing in the heart of Nashville.
