To Bring You Back

by Emily Conrad

  Or at least, for that moment, they had been.

  The article had been kind enough to end with a reminder that the last woman Gannon had been involved with was Harper English.

  Beautiful, famous Harper English.

  Olivia and her friends advanced up the sidewalk to join the work. Judging by their meticulous hair and makeup, they would be even less help than Adeline had been to that point. Tegan seemed to have made herself useful, though, so Adeline would too.

  She turned to find something to carry to the waste bin, but as she did, Olivia slid her slender arm through Adeline’s. “So where did he take you? You didn’t come home.”

  A few of the boys’ heads swiveled their way too. Had everyone read that article? The piece had called their trip a “romantic getaway” and had listed resorts in driving distance where they could’ve stayed. How mortifying.

  “We went to visit our parents. I stayed with my mom and dad. He saw his mom. Not everything on the Internet is true.”

  Olivia shrugged, her shoulder brushing Adeline’s. “Amy saw him drop you off.”

  Gannon had been more serious than she’d known when he’d texted to not do anything she didn’t want the world to know about. “We’re old friends. We went to high school together. Nothing romantic has happened.”

  “Do you think we could meet him? Because he just left, and—”

  A crash interrupted her. They turned to see Drew and two of the adults stepping back from the waste container. On spotting Olivia and Adeline, Drew waved them in.

  “Olivia, can you find a rake and take care of that?” He motioned to the collection of leaves and sawdust exposed by the disappearing porch.

  “There’s one in the shed at the back of the yard,” Adeline said. “And yard waste bags.”

  With a heavy sigh, Olivia plodded off.

  Drew smiled. “I’m not sure what she was expecting. I made it clear this was a service project, not a meet and greet. But more of the boys showed up than I expected too, so she’s in good company hoping it’ll turn into that.”

  She checked on the photographers again, expecting to see more of the same, but all three had their cameras up and pointed at her and Drew. “Speaking of …”

  “Let’s get drinks for everyone.” Drew tilted his head toward the house, and Adeline led the way around the back and through the entrance by the kitchen.

  Bruce ran up, whining. She kneeled to pet him. The fur on his paws was wet with pink skin showing through. He must’ve been licking them for quite a while.

  “Poor baby. The noise must be stressing him out.”

  A loud creak sounded, another part of the porch coming off the house, and Bruce buried his head against her shoulder. He was melting into a puddle of fear.

  The skin around Drew’s eyes creased. “How about you? Are you doing okay with the press and everything?”

  “Yeah. Fine. It’s just frustrating, the things those people will write. All we did was visit home.” She stroked Bruce’s thick fur.

  “You two must be getting along better.”

  Better? Yes. But not as well as she’d like. The proximity on the bike had been a shock to her, but he’d placed her arm around his body, pulling her even closer, allowing her to hold on. This from a man who paid his staff to prevent others from getting that close.

  She felt special around him. She felt special just thinking of him. As long as she didn’t think about how he’d dropped her off or his tone on the phone earlier.

  Drew studied her.

  She left Bruce and retrieved the lemonade mix she’d bought for volunteers. “I had to go with him. A photographer was here.”

  “You don’t seem to mind them too much today.”

  He had her there. She’d seen what they’d written. Though the pictures and the description of her jobs weren’t flattering, the article hadn’t mentioned the past at all. Maybe she’d been wrong to assume they’d dig deep. Why bother when they could sell tabloids without sorting through years of history?

  A puff of lemony sugar lifted from the mix as she poured it into a pitcher.

  Bruce leaned against her leg, still whining.

  “Can you take over?” She stepped from the pitcher and went back to keeping the dog company. Maybe she ought to stay in for the rest of the night for his sake. How would he fare tomorrow if the guys had to come back to finish the footings while she was working?

  Drew poured water into the pitcher. “Does it worry you that they keep taking pictures of us?”

  There’d been no mention or pictures of Drew in the article she’d seen, so she shook her head. “Does it worry you?”

  “It’s definitely an escalation from what I’m used to, but any pastor has to put up with scrutiny.” He turned off the faucet and took a spoon from the jar next to the oven. “I dated a woman at the church where I youth pastored before coming here. Someone told her she was a bad example because she wore skinny jeans, someone else insisted we needed to bring a chaperone on our dates, and a lot of people thought she should do as much with the youth as I did, but she had her own full-time job.”

  “I hope you defended her.”

  “I did, but expectations have a way of stomping out flames. It takes a certain type to date a pastor, someone with thick skin and the kind of relationship with God that lends peace and discretion in the midst of varying opinions.”

  Peace? All that to date a pastor. She looked into poor Bruce’s brown eyes. She’d felt happy and excited yesterday before beginning the journey home, but since then, she’d been on a rollercoaster. She feared it would take a lot more to date a rock star, and she might not have it.

  The paparazzi turned their cameras on the car as soon as Gannon opened his door, but he and John continued. They’d come prepared for the attention—autographed T-shirts for the teens at the worksite and two guards to keep the photographers at a respectable distance. For all they’d see, this was nothing more than a community service project.

  Behind closed doors would be another story, if Gannon could help it.

  Adeline had interrupted when he’d tried to tell her he did consider her problems his own. He wasn’t sure what had prompted her change in tone, but the only way to undo it would be an in-person conversation.

  First, he’d pitch in with the porch. If he’d already worked for her an hour or two before he tried a conversation, guilt—if nothing else—would earn him an audience. Besides, if he went inside now, they’d have two minutes, tops, before the teens came in to seek him out.

  When he and John stepped into the yard, the porch was already gone. The old columns had been replaced by makeshift supports to keep the porch roof aloft as it waited for the new structure. The adults were in various stages of digging holes for footings with an auger and hole diggers. The youth group kids bagged brush in large paper sacks.

  No Adeline.

  That would make this next part, focusing on the crowd, less a test of his patience than if she hung in the background the whole time, in sight but out of reach.

  One of the boys spotted them and nudged the kid next to him. A girl squawked and jumped, tugging her friend forward and beginning the onslaught.

  After twenty minutes of handing out T-shirts, posing for selfies, and giving the local paper a statement, he and John secured the job of mixing and pouring the concrete.

  High schoolers rushed to assist them. They’d finished their first batch when the pastor came from behind the house. Had he been with Adeline this whole time?

  Gannon tipped the wheelbarrow of concrete, and John used a shovel to guide the slop into the cylindrical form. Meanwhile, the boys who’d helped mix the ingredients waited for them to bring back the wheelbarrow for the next load.

  Drew stopped by his students. “How long have you guys been standing here?”

  “We’re helping mix concrete, right, Gannon?”

  He’d lost track of how many times the kids had ended sentences that way.

  The boy wore a proud smile, but if he
wanted to impress the pastor, he’d failed.

  Drew’s head swung toward where Gannon stood with the wheelbarrow. He seemed to study him, the tattoos exposed by the tank he wore, and maybe the quality of work he was doing. After a few seconds, he gave a slight, unenthusiastic smile and walked over to talk with the project leader, Chip.

  “Drew?” John timed the question to coincide with the noise of his shovel grating against the wet concrete. When Gannon nodded, John smirked. “Probably wants to know who does your ink.”

  Gannon chuckled, but when he looked a few minutes later and found Drew watching again, he felt as though he might as well be sinking in concrete. If Drew had been with Adeline and he’d come outside with a grudge, she might be inside not because she had a project there but because she was upset.

  A window looked out onto what used to be the front porch. Did she know he was out here? Was she happy about it or grumbling?

  The work dragged on an hour before Chip pressed the last of the brackets into the wet concrete and smoothed the surface with a trowel, finishing the footings.

  Drew raised both hands to get the kids’ attention. “The deacons have offered to take the cleanup from here. Adeline’s got snacks ready, so we’re going to head in for a devo and worship before calling it a night.”

  Olivia, the girl with the light brown hair who’d been among the first to greet him, peered at Gannon. “Are you coming, Gannon? John?”

  He had no intentions of leaving without seeing Adeline, so he nodded. With that, the kids swept them along into the house. He was in the back entryway when his phone buzzed with a text from Tim.

  Harper missed an event. They’re asking if you know where she is.

  No. Why would I? He stepped into the kitchen.

  Adeline and her roommate had added fanciful touches to the plain, worn space. A fox salt-and-pepper set curled together on the counter. Brushes for washing dishes stood in a vase by the sink. A floral-print square of fabric decorated the center of the table. A matching hand towel hung from a cabinet handle.

  His phone vibrated again with Tim’s response. These people are as dramatic as she is. Don’t worry about it.

  He didn’t plan to. He turned the phone to silent and pocketed it.

  A double-wide doorway allowed a view of the living room. The gray carpet and sectional couch appeared newer, but the coffee table had seen better decades. It sat on a teal rug, and someone had placed a stack of teal and blue books and a vase with silk flowers on the surface.

  The kids shifted toward the food on the kitchen table, and John followed them while Gannon entered the living room. A small flat-screen sat on a cabinet that, judging by the marks in the carpet, had been pushed against the wall to make room for the kids tonight.

  “Gannon.” The pleased surprise in Adeline’s voice brought a smile before he turned. So she hadn’t been shooting daggers at him out the window this whole time.

  She stood at the mouth of a hallway to his left. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and shorter pieces framed her face. She wore a T-shirt and jean shorts. No pretense. No trying to make herself something she wasn’t. If anything, she was a lot more than she made herself out to be.

  An old black dog threaded around her and sat in front of him. He petted the dog’s head, but his focus wandered back to Adeline.

  “I didn’t know you were here.” She hooked a thumb through a belt loop on her shorts, then pushed her fingers into her pocket. Was she nervous? “You were helping?”

  “For a little while.” He stopped rubbing the dog’s head, but then it scooted closer with a whine, so he kept it up. “I like your place.”

  Her eyebrows curved skeptically as she glanced around, but before she could reply, John came in with a plate of food and three of the high schoolers.

  The kids plunked onto the couch, but John slung his free arm around Adeline’s shoulders. “There’s our girl.” His attention landed on the dog. “And who’s this?”

  “I’m watching him for the shelter. His name is Bruce.”

  When John dropped to greet the dog, Gannon studied Adeline. “We need to talk.”

  She must’ve been able to read at least some of his intentions because pink tinged her cheeks. Her focus dodged his to follow movement behind him. Drew had entered the room carrying a guitar case and a Bible.

  “After?” She lifted her hand toward an empty section of the couch, the last piece of furniture open.

  “You take it. I’m fine here.” He settled on the floor by the wall.

  Drew’s ten-minute devotional used the disciples as examples of how encounters with God should change people. He wound down with lists of good and bad behavior from a passage in Galatians 5.

  The kids’ interest held all the way through the prayer, but when Drew flipped the latches on the guitar case, Olivia leaned forward. “Gannon, you should play!”

  Others quickly agreed.

  Drew hesitated, his grip on the neck of the guitar visibly tight.

  Suspecting he knew how this would go, Gannon didn’t move forward.

  But all the kids watched him, hopeful.

  “I can,” he said. “I’m sure I know enough of the same songs as the group.”

  Drew cleared his throat and fit his right arm over the instrument, preparing to play. “I’d like this to be a time of worship that’s about God, not the musician.”

  One of Olivia’s friends bounced in her seat. “But he knows the songs about God, he said.”

  “Yeah.” A boy pushed his hair out of his face as if eye contact would be more convincing. “We should find a drum too. Music is their job.”

  “And leading worship is your pastor’s job.” Gannon motioned to Drew to send the attention in his direction.

  Drew nodded his thanks, then focused on the kids. “Rock stars and worship leaders aren’t interchangeable. They’re different jobs with different qualifications. Let’s focus on God.” He started a song.

  Different jobs with different qualifications? Okay, but what did leading worship require besides a love of God and an ability to carry a tune? Which did Drew think he lacked?

  Gannon glanced at Adeline, but she stared at her hands as if to avoid his gaze. John shook his head slightly and opened his hand, telling Gannon to drop it.

  17

  Adeline went on tiptoe to reach her arms around John’s shoulders for a hug.

  “See you around.” He lifted her off the ground for a moment. “I’ll send the car back for Gannon.”

  He nodded to Drew, who hovered by the dining table, then left.

  Drew bumped the table, which he’d lingered to help clear. “You look tired.” His tone was flat.

  She certainly didn’t feel tired. Her pulse buzzed, a mixture of excitement and guilt she hadn’t experienced since the night she’d gone to that party looking for Gannon. That night, their relationship had been nothing more than hints and a wild crush, and here she was again.

  But whatever happened, they would not repeat their mistakes. Experience had been a harsh teacher.

  At the door, she thanked Drew for all the work and bid him good night.

  Back in the living room, Bruce lay curled in his bed in the corner.

  Gannon stood at the wall, studying a painting she’d done on a piece of plywood. He’d either ripped the sleeves off his T-shirt or had bought it distressed that way. Whatever the case, she had a full view of his tattoos.

  The detail in the lion made it a work of art. On his other shoulder, a tree burned with orange flames so realistic they looked painful. A simplified version of that design had marked the cover of their first album. He also had a compass on the side of his calf, exposed by his knee-length shorts.

  No cross, which would’ve been the first tattoo she would’ve guessed he’d have. Perhaps one spanned those broad shoulders?

  Before he could turn and catch her staring, she stepped up next to him. The painting he studied was nothing more than swirls of blues and yellow with a touch of pink here a
nd there. He’d know she’d painted it by the initials in the corner. What did her simplistic art look like to him? What kind of art did he have in his house?

  “Inspired by the lake?”

  “A happy accident, but that’s what it reminds me of too.”

  Nodding, he turned, eyes focusing on the front window.

  The sheers had been pulled, but not the curtains themselves. She kneeled on the couch, drew the curtains in case photographers remained outside, and turned to sit.

  He took a place next to her, angled so their knees were an inch or two apart. “I hope you don’t mind that I came. You said something about the paparazzi losing interest if they didn’t see us together, but I didn’t get the feeling that was what either of us wanted. Not at that price.”

  “Even if they write about us like we’re a couple?”

  “I never said I minded that.”

  Hadn’t he?

  No, not directly. She’d assumed, based on his tone.

  She smiled. She couldn’t help it.

  A smile played at Gannon’s mouth too. “What I don’t want is you in the middle of a media circus you want no part of. The opinions and rumors can get nasty.”

  “Like the ones about you and Harper.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Well. I’m more concerned about the reality than the rumors.”

  He didn’t break eye contact. However intricate his tattoos, they were nothing compared to his eyes. That golden ring around his pupils got her every time. “The reality is that Harper and I are hardly even friends, and I never hurt her.”

  She ought to ask what he wanted the reality of his relationship with her to be, but she dipped her head and studied her hands instead.

  “Does Drew believe the tabloids about me and Harper?”

  “I think he knows not to put a lot of weight on what they write.”

  “Thoughts on what he said, then?”

  Had Gannon been bothered by Drew’s devotional too? She’d managed to squelch the guilt the passage had raised, but now the discomfort returned, burning in her throat.

  She gulped. “The verses in Galatians say the sexually immoral won’t inherit the kingdom of God.”