To Bring You Back

by Emily Conrad

  “So you’re not sleeping with her.”

  The question stung. Mostly because, from her, he deserved it. “No. There’s never been anyone else.”

  She moved her foot, and a rock clacked. “For nine years?”

  “Never, Adeline.”

  A wave washed in and out.

  “Then why is your love life such a tabloid favorite?” She stressed the last two words, but he couldn’t guess why.

  “Because I say Christ has made me different, and when they claim they can prove that’s not the case, it sells. Every time I’m seen with a woman, it’s reported as a scandal.”

  She turned her face toward the parking lot. “So tonight …”

  “That’s why I was careful about picking you up.” And hopefully the precautions would be enough. If this veered off course in the press, he’d never get to talk to Adeline in person again, let alone hold her or earn that kiss.

  “You know what the worst part is?”

  That he couldn’t sit next to her? That he couldn’t seem to get past her anger?

  “They would never guess something as bad as the truth.”

  A thorn of shame twisted. He’d prefer to blame Fitz or Harper, but the truth was, his own actions caused the distance between them. And yet … No. He wouldn’t bow to shame. Wouldn’t let the past define him.

  For him and Adeline to have any hope of a future together, she had to live in forgiveness too.

  “We’ve sinned, yes, but I believe in the God of David and Bathsheba, the God who forgives and uses us anyway. In Christ, we’re not defined by our sin. We’re defined by grace, and we can’t waste years on regret or in fear of what people might think if they choose to believe the tabloids.”

  Her tone rose to match his. “If they choose to believe the truth.”

  “Sin is ugly, Adeline, but the truth coming out is not the worst thing that could happen to me. The truth is that God is better than all our sin. Even if it doesn’t make us look good, owning up to our mistakes showcases how great the grace of God is. We can’t be afraid of facing that, and honestly, owning up to the past is a big part of the reason I’m in Lakeshore.”

  She sat perfectly still and silent.

  He picked up a rock and let the smooth weight of it press against the hollow of his palm. “There are things I’ve considered too private to talk about in my music, and that was okay for the first few albums, but each one’s gotten harder. Art depends on openness—on truth—and after John told me about seeing you …” He hesitated, but he couldn’t argue the case for truth if he couldn’t own up to his own feelings. “You saw John at Christmas. He came back and told me you were having a hard time. After that, you were all I could think about, the subject of all my new songs—and plenty of old ones too. But I can’t use any of them because I left our relationship in shambles and using them would only do more damage between us. In shelving those songs, I’ve buried all kinds of truth, and I can’t get past it. Other music won’t come. I can’t focus. I think the lack of inspiration was God’s way of telling me to make things right.”

  “So that’s why you came. For permission to use me in your songs.” Her gaze was trained on him, a dark combination of lashes and brown eyes that blurred together in shadow.

  He chucked the stone into the murky water. The air was so clean here compared to in LA. If only changing his location had cleared the smog from this relationship too. “This is our fourth conversation and the first time I’ve mentioned the songs. If I wanted, I could publish them without your blessing.”

  “So why don’t you?”

  “Because you’ve always been more important than music.”

  She crossed her arms, and her face dipped toward the ground, like maybe she’d heard him. Believed him.

  He continued, “We’re completely forgiven and free. You and I don’t have to let a nine-year-old mistake define us anymore.”

  “I wish it were that simple.” Sadness dragged her tone low.

  “What if it is? What if you and I—?”

  She shot up from the log and spun toward the path as if she planned to leave, with or without him.

  “Adeline, wait.”

  She halted, back to him.

  He longed to read the nuances of her expression. “Did you listen to the song?”

  “I did.” Her voice scratched.

  “And?”

  “You feel bad. I get it.” A nasal undertone meant her nose was running. Which meant she was crying.

  And he’d thought he wanted to hold her badly before. “You don’t get it. The point of the song is that God forgives. Restores us when we come to Him, no matter our sin.”

  She faced him, but darkness shrouded her features. He could see little but that she had her arms crossed. “If you think somewhere in that definition of mercy you claim to live by, there’s a line about you and me, maybe all you’re doing is abusing grace, living by a fairytale you made up. Grace doesn’t mean a grand do-over.”

  A grand do-over? As if Fitz and the pain of his severed relationship with Adeline were nothing?

  She used to know him so well, and now she misunderstood him completely.

  “I don’t know what God has planned, but I do know He’s the only hope for a grace abuser like me. And if you’re honest, you’d admit He’s the only hope you have too.”

  “Of course I need grace, but I’m not going to trample it, running around without remorse and repentance. Without changing. If we go back to what we were—”

  “I’m not suggesting we fall back into sin, Adeline.” He managed to keep his voice even, though hers continued to escalate.

  “I’m not risking it. The book of James says we’re supposed to show our faith by our works. You know what your works leave people with? Questions about who you are and what you stand for. My pastor isn’t sure if you’re a real Christian or not.”

  Anger flared. “Based on what? Tabloids?”

  “You’re not perfect. You admitted as much.”

  “And you are?” He clenched his teeth, summoning all his self-control to calm his tone again.

  “No, but I’m not dating as if I’m completely unaffected by the past.”

  “Are you dating at all?” The question came out measured.

  “No, because I’ve changed.”

  The answer he’d desperately wanted to hear—she wasn’t dating—but she’d paired it with a riddle.

  “You’ve changed into what?”

  “A better Christian.”

  So he was a grace abuser, and she thought closing herself off to love made her holier.

  If he said more now, he would insult her as much as she’d insulted him. “Let’s get you back.”

  They made the drive in silence. When he pulled up to the curb a block from her house, he left the car in gear. Because of it, when she tried her handle, the door was locked.

  He found the unlock button but hesitated to press down. “Maybe the reason you’re so afraid of people finding out about our past is because if they knew, they might ask the same questions about you that they ask about me. You’re afraid of the scandal, afraid grace won’t catch your free fall. You’d rather make redemption about works and how people perceive you because you have some control there, but whatever scaffolding you’re rigging to get yourself to God won’t reach. Only the cross of Jesus will do that.”

  She glared at him with her head at an angry tilt, her fingers clutching the door handle.

  He peered into the backyards as he hit the unlock button. As angry as he was, he hated the thought of her navigating those shadows alone. “Can I walk you home?”

  “And risk them catching us together?” She opened her door, and the light in the car came on. She moved fast to get out.

  “Text me when you’re in.”

  She shut the door, and darkness returned as she disappeared into her neighbor’s garden. Gannon stayed at the curb until his phone pinged.

  In, she’d texted.

  Lock your doors 24/7. An
d don’t do anything you don’t want photographed and analyzed by people you’ve never met.

  Will do and never do.

  She had once. He shifted into gear and pulled away.

  11

  Adeline could message Drew instead of walking down the hall to his office, but she needed a distraction from her thoughts about the night before.

  Gannon still had feelings for her after all these years. She hadn’t expected that. Nor had she expected him to find fault in her theology. Her stomach had been tight and uneasy ever since.

  She tapped on Drew’s open door. “Darlene called. The hospital is keeping Henry another day.”

  “Okay.” He typed something on his computer, then rolled his chair to reach his planner on the door-facing side of his L-shaped desk. He made a note, probably to visit Henry.

  With Drew’s neatly ordered bookshelf of spiritual wisdom nearby, this seemed like the place to talk about what Gannon said, but she wasn’t sure how to word the worries that had kept her from sleeping. Most of what she’d said, she believed, but she didn’t know what to make of Gannon’s answers, and she’d gone too far saying Drew thought Gannon might not be a Christian.

  Unaware of the words she’d put in his mouth, Drew dropped his pen on his planner and folded his hands. “What else is going on?”

  “At what point do you think the things we do disqualify …” No. That wasn’t right, and voicing the full question would’ve had her in tears.

  The left side of Drew’s mouth quirked into a smile as he waited.

  She gulped and looked for a way into the conversation that bypassed emotion. “Gannon says he’s right with God, that he repented for what happened with Fitz and is forgiven.”

  “Ah.” He pointed to a chair opposite the desk. “Talked to him?”

  She sat and scraped the textured armrest with her thumb. “Last night. He says he isn’t dating Harper and never has. I believe him, but I’m not sure about the part where he repented over what happened with Fitz. If he regrets it, why does he talk about it so easily? It’s like he’s not embarrassed or anything.”

  “You think he should be?”

  “Of course.” Because her sin was the same, and her face flamed with shame, even though Drew didn’t know what she’d done. He did know Gannon fired Fitz. That ought to be enough for this conversation. “It was so bad. Such a blatant sin.”

  “That’s the only kind I know of.”

  Oh. Right.

  “But I just … How good is grace? I mean, can we really expect to get back everything we lose when we sin? Or is that asking too much?” Her heart pumped overtime. She longed for him to say restoration was possible. But she’d been striving to get right with God since she’d so utterly failed. If Gannon was right about grace, wouldn’t she have seen progress by now?

  Drew studied her, and her defenses failed.

  She wiped tears from her cheeks.

  He slid her a box of tissues. “God’s grace is better than we can comprehend, and He is in the business of redeeming and bringing good from even the worst situations.”

  “But even once we’ve repented, there are consequences.”

  “Sure. Forgiveness doesn’t cancel consequences, but the opposite is also true. Consequences don’t mean we’re not forgiven. When we’re covered in grace, we don’t have to walk around in shame anymore.”

  How was it possible to not be ashamed of something that had contributed to someone else’s death?

  “You said you aren’t sure he’s sorry. The right heart tends to lead toward the right works.” He picked the pen back up and turned it in his hands. “We all fall short, though, so it’s impossible to judge someone by their actions alone. Only God knows a person’s heart, and that’s what’s important to Him.”

  He spoke gently, but her conscience pinged like a rubber band. She’d been too hard on Gannon. She’d been a hypocrite.

  If hearts were what mattered to God, what did He think of hers, as tainted as it was?

  Emotion built into a tidal wave. Before she could lose all composure, she murmured her thanks and hurried out.

  After not sleeping well following his fight with Adeline, a day of rehearsing with John and Matt left Gannon spent. He reached past John to power down one of the amps.

  John stepped out of the way but lingered by the soundboard. “Last night didn’t go well?”

  “Not particularly.” Gannon scanned the equipment. No red lights blinked at him, indicating he’d shut everything down. He moved to the door, and John followed him to the kitchen.

  There, Gannon grabbed them each a bottle of water. “Every time we talk, it ends with her hurt and angry.”

  “So spend less time talking. Go help her with house stuff.”

  “The last thing she wants is anyone getting pictures of us together.”

  John drained a third of his water and raked the back of his hand across his mouth. “Have it your way. I’m sure Drew will help her.”

  “Drew?”

  “A friend of hers.”

  “What kind of friend?”

  “The kind that helps her with her house.”

  A man could do that out of the goodness of his heart, but if John thought that was the case here, he wouldn’t have brought him up.

  “I’m not going to steal her away from some other guy.” Not again.

  “For now, he’s a friend. But you have a point about pictures. Paparazzi followed Matt home last night.”

  Great. Gannon stretched his arms and interlaced his fingers behind his head. Following his every move would be easier now that they knew the band’s home base. A couple of close calls over the years had necessitated tightened security. The guards at the gate were armed, but Adeline had no one to protect her and wouldn’t take kindly to needing someone, even if Gannon footed the bill.

  “What am I supposed to do? She only called because you ordered her to. I’ve been pestering her since I got to town, and it’s gotten us nowhere. I have to wait, don’t I?”

  John’s mouth quirked. “Not your strong suit.”

  But as long as she was safe, he didn’t see another option. He screwed the cap back on his water and started for Tim’s office to find out how much of a scene Matt had made last night in town.

  When he reached the doorway, Tim looked up, froze, then stood.

  If Matt had done something bad enough to warrant this odd hesitation, Gannon should have heard about it by now. Unless, thinking they needed to prepare for the show, Tim had hidden the news.

  “What happened?”

  Tim pulled him far enough into the room to shut the door, then stood behind the desk, fingers touching the work surface as if it were a rising problem he could suppress. “Harper stayed at your place.”

  “We already talked about this.”

  “More pictures of her leaving surfaced, these from inside the lobby. The lady who took them didn’t realize what she had for a while because she was only trying to take shots of her kids, but when she had prints made, she saw it. Harper’s in the background, clear as day. She didn’t have bruises going in, but she does on the way out.”

  At least this wasn’t another romance rumor that would work against him with Adeline. “She fell on the stairs.”

  Tim exhaled through his nose, patience seeming thin. “Someone told the press they saw you with her. Your doorman confirmed just now that he saw Harper with a man, but he swears he didn’t talk to anyone about it.” He paused there, as if to let the story sink in.

  Gannon lifted his hands and shook his head.

  Tim crossed his arms. “The press is reporting the bruises are from a lovers’ quarrel gone wrong, that you and Harper have a secret relationship, but she won’t leave Colton. She went to your place that night. You beat her up.”

  His body went rigid. Suddenly he missed the romance rumors. He hadn’t known how much more offensive claims against him would get. “It’s bogus. Start to finish.”

  And Tim should know that.

  �
�It’s spreading like wildfire. Trolls are blowing up your accounts, calling for this weekend’s show to be canceled.”

  Gannon’s mouth went dry. Some accusations left more of a mark than others, and domestic violence had to be one of the bad ones.

  But he was innocent. People had seen him here, in Wisconsin, a whole country between him and Harper.

  What truly mattered was Harper’s real circumstances. “Is it true? Not the part about me, but did someone do this to her?” Gannon trusted his building’s doormen. If one of them said a man had come, it was true or an honest mistake.

  Tim motioned at his laptop screen. “Do these look like they came from falling on the three stairs in your living room?”

  Gannon stepped around the desk. The first set of photos of Harper from that morning, the ones that had been paired with claims of an affair, had been taken from the other side when she was out on the sidewalk. Her hand and hair had hidden her face. Apparently she hadn’t thought to shield herself inside the lobby.

  Brilliant red and purple marred her skin.

  If Gannon hadn’t seen the same marks, faded by a couple of days when she’d video called him, he’d say the image had been altered. “She could’ve hit one of the end tables or the corner of the couch on her way down.”

  “Or she let a man in, and he did this,” Tim supplied. “People saw them together and assumed it was you. I can try to get my hands on the security footage. We can leak it to prove who was there that night instead of you.”

  “Leak it?” How would that help Harper?

  “First choice would be for Harper to make a statement, but she and her people aren’t returning my calls.” Tim leaned forward, his hands fisted on the desk. “We’ve got to save the booking.”

  A bitter taste to match his frustration flooded Gannon’s mouth. If Harper was dealing with an abuser, she needed privacy and support, not a media blitz. “We’re not leaking anything.”

  “She’s covering for someone at your expense. At Awestruck’s expense.” He stabbed a finger at the desktop, as if the income they could lose were a figure he could point to and change Gannon’s priorities.