Chapter Three
Three
The next morning, sweat beaded on Gunner’s brow, mingling with the earthy scent of horse and leather that clung to him like a second skin.
As he finished cooling down the colt after a long training ride in the indoor arena, his mind wandered to the stage of the last arena he’d played, to the glint of spotlights and the roar of a crowd he feared he’d never hear again.
He shoved the thought away, refocusing on the young quarter horse he currently trained for Jaxon’s ranch.
He’d grown up riding at the ranch every summer, along with Jaxon and Eli, under Jaxon’s father’s guidance. Any memory at the ranch was a good one, but it wasn’t the life Gunner had imagined for himself. It wasn’t filled with music, and the deep ache in his chest wouldn’t let him forget that fact.
“Easy there,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble as the colt shifted restlessly beneath his touch. “We’re done, bud.”
With a final pat to the colt’s flank, Gunner dismounted and then gathered the reins and led the horse from the indoor arena to the weathered red barn.
The familiar creak of the door brought a wave of nostalgia washing over him, memories of simpler times before fame and addiction had nearly destroyed everything he held dear.
As he stepped inside the barn, the wintery wind battering against the windows, Gunner’s eyes fell on a familiar figure. Jaxon stood in one of the stalls, adjusting the saddle on the spirited young mare he was training for a lady out in California.
“Good ride?” Jaxon asked.
Gunner nodded. “Uneventful.” Which was how Gunner liked his horses. In his youth, he’d loved the horses that had spunk, but after his ATV injury, he couldn’t risk getting injured again. “How’s the new filly coming along?”
Jaxon chuckled, patting the horse’s neck. “She’s got too much fire.” He glanced over his shoulder and winked. “Just how I like them.”
Gunner snorted and began untacking the colt.
Even if the ranch didn’t fulfill him like playing arenas did, he knew the value of this place.
He swallowed hard, thinking of the countless nights Jaxon and Eli had sat with him through the shakes and sweats of withdrawal after he’d come home, washed up and a full-blown addict. They’d never judged, only supported.
“Listen, Jax,” Gunner began, his voice rougher with emotion than he intended. “I’m going to mentor some of the local kids for an afterschool music program that ends in a talent show.”
Jaxon left the stall, locking it behind him. His brow was drawn, likely in response to the emotion Gunner had failed to hide. “Yeah? That’s great, man.”
Gunner set the saddle down on the rack. “It’s good, for sure, but it will cut into my training time. The talent show is a month away, and word on the street is that practice will be in the afternoons after the kids get done school.”
Jaxon paused, his head cocking. “You’ve got three horses in your roster right now?”
Gunner nodded. “This colt is nearly ready to be sold. The other two are just getting started.”
“All right,” Jaxon said. “I’ll give Decker the other two you’re starting, just keep finishing this guy. A morning ride is doable?”
“Yup,” Gunner agreed. “Thanks for this. This music program… I know it sounds like a small thing, but it feels like it’s the right thing to do.”
He couldn’t help but think about how far he’d come.
For the past two years, he’d done the work.
He went to rehab and got the pills out of his system.
He continued therapy after that. He kept in contact with his sponsor if he felt his mood shift.
But this felt like something new. Something that he needed to do.
From the depths of addiction to standing here, ready to give back to the community that had supported him through his darkest times.
Jaxon gave a firm nod, his eyes full of understanding.
“I get it. And I think it’s a great idea.
This town’s always been about community, and what you’re doing?
That’s the heart of it right there.” He hesitated for a moment, considering, then added, “Listen, if you need any help with the show, I’d be happy to pitch in.
Maybe donate some guitars or other instruments if the kids need ’em. ”
Gunner felt a rush of gratitude wash over him. “That’s generous of you. I’m sure the kids would appreciate it.”
“Just keep doing what you’re doing,” Jaxon replied with an easy smile. “These kids need someone like you to look up to, someone who’s been through the fire and come out stronger on the other side.”
As Gunner stood there, surrounded by the familiar scents of hay and leather, he felt a sense of purpose settling over him. It wasn’t the roar of a stadium crowd or the thrill of a hit song, but somehow, it felt even more meaningful. This was his chance to make a real difference, one kid at a time.
And that felt better than drowning in his own damn misery.
Leading his horse down the aisle, Gunner approached Jaxon and clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks again.”
Jaxon just smiled and went back into the mare’s stall.
With all that settled, Gunner returned his focus to his horse and brought him back out to pasture, stepping into the late morning sun.
Once he’d closed the gate and watched the colt gallop toward the other horses at the hay bale, he turned toward his truck.
He squinted, adjusting to the brightness of the snow.
As he approached his truck, he caught sight of Eli leading a chestnut mare in the nearby paddock. Eli had been a professional bull rider until he’d lost his sister and moved back home, but now he coached young bull riders, also training a horse or two for Jaxon when time allowed.
“Heading out?” Eli called.
Gunner raised a hand in acknowledgment. “Yeah, going into town for a bit.”
“Bring me back a coffee?”
“Will do.” Gunner climbed into his truck, the familiar creak of the door a comfort to his ears.
As he pulled away from the ranch, snow kicking up behind his wheels, his mind wandered. The drive into town was as familiar as an old song, every bend in the road etched into his memory. But as he entered the rustic town square of Timber Falls, his heart rate picked up.
The Naked Moose came into view, its sleek black modern windows a silent reminder that it was still hours from opening. Gunner’s grip tightened on the steering wheel as memories flooded his senses. Aubrey. That week in Atlanta. Every touch, every whisper, every breathless moment came rushing back.
“Damn,” he muttered, pulling to a stop at the red light directly in front of the bar. His eyes traced the outline of the old stone building, imagining Aubrey inside, her blond waves catching the light as she moved with purpose behind the bar.
“It was her,” he whispered to himself, the confession hanging in the air of his truck cab. Occasionally, he questioned whether the fog from his pill addiction might have caused him to mistake her identity… He shook his head and said to himself, “I’d know those blue eyes and smile anywhere.”
The light turned green, but Gunner hesitated, his foot hovering over the gas pedal.
Part of him wanted to wait, to march into that bar the moment it opened and confront Aubrey.
..again. But he knew better. This wasn’t a country song where grand gestures always paid off.
This was real life, and Aubrey was as complex and guarded as they came.
With a sigh, he pressed the gas, leaving The Naked Moose behind.
But as he drove on, the memory of Aubrey lingered, as intoxicating as the pills he’d sworn off.
His mind raced as he navigated the familiar streets of his hometown.
The upcoming wedding of Jaxon and Charly loomed in his thoughts—a perfect opportunity disguised as a celebration. Aubrey couldn’t avoid him then.
On the edge of town, he pulled into the community center parking lot and cut the engine with a decisive twist. The faded brick building stood before him, a far cry from the glittering stages he’d once commanded.
He climbed out of his truck and strode through the double doors, the scent of lemon cleaner and musty books hitting him like a wave. A whirlwind of activity greeted him, centered around a petite woman with wild, graying curls.
“Mr. Woods!” she exclaimed, rushing over with outstretched hands. “I’m Margaret, the coordinator. We’re absolutely thrilled to have you on board!”
Gunner clasped her hand. “Ma’am, the pleasure’s all mine. These kids deserve a chance to shine.”
Margaret beamed, her words tumbling out in a breathless rush. “Oh, they’ll be over the moon! A real country star, right here in our little town. Now, about instruments…”
“Actually,” Gunner interjected smoothly, “Jaxon Reed from Timber Falls Ranch offered to donate some instruments. Figured it might help.”
Margaret’s eyes widened, her already frenetic energy kicking into overdrive.
“Donated instruments? Oh, that’s marvelous.
” She waved him to follow her toward a cluttered bulletin board, gesturing at a wrinkled sheet of paper pinned haphazardly among flyers and schedules.
“This is our practice schedule. Take a look.”
Gunner ambled over, his eyes scanning the list of names. Some familiar, some not. His gaze caught on “Emily Winters, age 8, working on singing ‘Jolene’,” and he felt a smile tug at his lips at her great song choice.
“Five times a week, huh?” he mused, running a calloused finger down the timetable. “That’s a commitment.”
“Is it too much?” Margaret’s brow furrowed. “We can always adjust—”
“No, ma’am,” Gunner interrupted, his voice gentle but firm. “It’s perfect. These kids deserve our best.”