Chapter Five
Five
After the school day ended for the children the following afternoon, Gunner had already completed his physical therapy routine for his leg and put in his training ride in the morning, when he swung the double doors of the community center open, flooding the dim hallway with late afternoon sunlight.
The schedule was slightly demanding with the daily volunteering during the week, but there were quite a few kids to mentor, and Gunner needed the distraction.
His mind had been on Aubrey all morning—and that small shift he felt between them last night.
Her jealously had been rich in the air, and he got it.
He would have had an issue with any guy drooling all over her.
A crack in her resolve had formed, and he wouldn’t miss his chance to fill that space with the million apologies he owed her until she stopped keeping him out.
As he entered the community center —a single expansive room with a stage and a small kitchen to one side—his worn cowboy boots echoed on the linoleum floor.
“Gunner, hello,” Margaret called. “Please come meet the kiddos.”
“Hi, y’all!” Gunner called out. “Hope I ain’t too late to join this little hoedown.”
While Margaret hurried off to wrangle some more of the children up, a chorus of excited squeals erupted as a swarm of children rushed toward him, their faces beaming with unbridled joy.
Gunner’s heart swelled, and damn, did this feel good, the idea of giving back to the community that had given him a great home.
“Gunner! Gunner!” A freckle-faced boy tugged at his sleeve. “Will you sing for us? Pretty please?”
Gunner chuckled, ruffling the boy’s hair. “Now, hold your horses there, partner. We’ve got plenty of time for singing. First, let’s see what kinda talent we’ve got brewin’ in this room.”
As he scanned the bustling space, his gaze settled on a small figure hovering at the edge of the stage. A young girl, no more than twelve, clutched a wrinkled sheet of paper to her chest like a shield. Her wide eyes darted around the room, never settling on one spot for more than a heartbeat.
“Give me just a minute,” he told the boy, noticing the guitar near him. “Get warmed up and I’ll be right back.”
Gunner’s chest tightened. Lord, if that wasn’t the spitting image of him at his first county fair. He remembered all too well the debilitating fear, the cotton-dry mouth, the legs that felt like they might give out at any moment.
He started toward her, his mind racing. How do I put her at ease without scaring her off? The last thing he wanted was to overwhelm the poor thing. As he approached, he noticed her knuckles were white from gripping the paper so tightly.
“Hey there,” he said softly, crouching down to her eye level. “What’s your name?”
The girl’s eyes snapped to his face, a flicker of recognition passing over her features. “Emily,” she barely whispered.
Gunner’s heart ached for her. He understood the prison of stage fright, how it could steal your voice and leave you feeling helpless. But he also knew the indescribable joy of breaking free from those chains.
“Tell you what,” he said gently. “Why don’t we make a deal? You show me what you’ve got there, and I’ll tell you about the time I fell off stage trying to do the electric slide in cowboy boots.”
Emily’s shy smile gave Gunner the encouragement he needed. He gestured toward the stage. “C’mon. Let’s give that stage a try, shall we?”
As they walked toward the platform, Gunner felt a familiar tightness in his chest. The spotlight, even when dim, had a way of bringing back memories—both exhilarating and terrifying.
“Alright,” he said. “First things first—let’s take a deep breath together.” He demonstrated, filling his lungs slowly and exhaling. Emily mimicked him, her shoulders relaxing slightly.
Gunner smiled. “That’s it. Now, I’m gonna tell you something I’ve never told anyone else.” He paused, making sure he had her full attention. “You know, the first time I performed at the Grand Ole Opry, I was so scared I nearly threw up on my boots.”
Emily’s eyes widened, surprise and curiosity replacing some of the fear. “Really?” she whispered.
“Really.” Gunner chuckled, placing his hand over his heart.
“I was shaking like a leaf in a tornado. But you know what? I closed my eyes, thought about why I love music, and just…let it flow. Sometimes,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion, “the bravest thing you can do is just show up and be yourself.”
Emily nodded and then she took a hesitant step forward. The wooden stage creaked beneath her feet, and she flinched.
Gunner felt a surge of protectiveness wash over him. “You’re doin’ great,” he murmured, his eyes locked on hers. “Let’s try a little warm-up, alright? Just you and me.”
He guided her through a simple vocal exercise, his rich baritone filling the air. “Just like that,” he encouraged, watching as Emily’s lips parted, her voice barely audible at first.
As they continued, Gunner couldn’t help but marvel at the raw talent hidden beneath her shyness. It reminded him of a young songbird, wings trembling on the edge of flight. He’d been there once, teetering between fear and dreams.
“That’s it, Emily,” he said, his voice warm with pride. “Now, let’s try your song. Don’t worry about being perfect, just feel the music.”
Emily’s fingers tightened around her sheet music as she began to sing, her voice a mere whisper. Gunner leaned in, harmonizing softly, creating a cocoon of sound around them.
“You’ve got this,” he whispered between verses.
As Emily’s voice grew stronger, Gunner felt a spark of something he hadn’t experienced in years—pure, unadulterated joy in the music. He pushed aside thoughts of his faded career, focusing instead on nurturing the fragile confidence blooming before him.
As the music drifted away, Gunner smiled, seeing her looking much more relaxed. “You did really great, Emily. Take five, and we’ll pick up where we left off.” A break always helped him after facing something that scared him.
He stepped off the stage, running a hand through his hair. That’s when he noticed her—a familiar woman standing off to the side, her gaze fixed on Emily with a mixture of pride and worry etched across her face. “Sarah?” She’d been in the same high school, but a couple years ahead of him.
“Hey,” she said with a warm smile. “I see you met my daughter, Emily. I can’t thank you enough for what you’re doing.”
Gunner’s lips quirked into a gentle smile. “It’s my pleasure. Emily’s got a real gift.”
Sarah’s eyes clouded with concern. “That’s just it. She’s so talented, but her confidence…” She trailed off, glancing at her daughter.
A familiar ache bloomed in Gunner’s chest. He knew all too well the weight of expectations and self-doubt.
“I understand,” he said softly. “Truth is, I’ve been where Emily is.
Scared to let my voice be heard.” He paused, memories of his own struggles with addiction and fame flashing through his mind.
“But I promise you, I’m gonna do everything I can to help her find her voice. ”
Sarah’s eyes welled with tears. “You don’t know what that means to us.”
Gunner placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I’ll work with her one-on-one, if that’s alright. Sometimes, all it takes is someone believing in you to make all the difference. We’ll get her feeling great going into the talent show.”
As Sarah nodded gratefully, Gunner felt a surge of determination. This wasn’t just about mentoring anymore. It was about redemption—for Emily, and maybe, just maybe, for himself too.
After he grabbed a glass of water, he strode back onto the stage, his boots echoing against the worn floorboards.
He surveyed the group of young hopefuls before him.
Emily stood at the edge, still clutching her sheet music like a lifeline.
He gave her the glass of water and then focused back on the group.
“Alright, y’all,” Gunner said, clapping his hands together. “Time to shake things up a bit. We’re going to have ourselves a little hoedown.”
He caught Emily’s startled gaze and winked. “Don’t you worry. This ain’t about perfect pitch. It’s about feeling the music in your bones.” He started a slow, steady clap, the rhythm pulsing through the community center. “C’mon now, everybody join in. Let’s get this party started!”
As the other kids enthusiastically followed his lead, Gunner noticed Emily’s hesitation. He moved closer, never breaking the rhythm. “Just like that, Emily. Feel it in your feet first. Let it climb up through your body.”
Emily’s foot began to tap tentatively. Gunner grinned, thinking, That’s it. Baby steps.
“Now, let’s add some vocals,” he called out. “Don’t worry about the words. Just let out whatever sound feels right.”
Emily’s lips parted, a barely audible hum escaping. Gunner’s heart swelled with pride. He’d coaxed that same tentative sound from his own throat years ago, in a dingy Nashville bar, where he’d first dared to dream of stardom.
As the session progressed, Gunner watched Emily closely. Her voice, initially a whisper, began to gain strength. The tightness in her shoulders eased, and a hint of a smile played at the corners of her mouth.
“That’s it, Emily!” Gunner encouraged. “You’re finding your groove. Remember how this feels.”
He thought back to his own mentors—especially his grandfather—the ones who’d believed in him before the fame, before the fall. I owe it to them to pay it forward, he mused, a bittersweet pang in his chest.
The closing notes of the group performance faded, leaving a buzzing energy in the air. Gunner’s heart swelled with pride as he surveyed the beaming faces of the young performers. His gaze settled on Emily, her eyes bright with newfound confidence.
“Alright, y’all,” he called, his voice carrying across the room. “That’s a great start for today. We’ll break things down to individual sessions starting tomorrow.”