.
eye.
“I can’t believe I missed seeing him.” Lori swung her long brown hair over her shoulder and hunched down to mimic Gracie’s pose on the counter. “Is he as cute as he was on his last CD cover?” She winked.
“That’s not the point.” Gracie grabbed a pencil from the display beside the cash register and twirled it through her fingers. Anything to avoid eye contact and Lori’s I-dare-you-to-try-and-keep-a-secret-from-me gaze. They’d shared coffee and more than their share of confidences over the past year as roommates, but this was different.
This was a broken fragment of her heart.
Lori plucked the pencil from Gracie’s grasp and stuck it back in the case. “Okay, so we know he’s probably still a looker. The awful ones usually are.”
“There was something different about him.” She squinted, trying to recall the specifics of the memory. “Something in his eyes.”
“Maybe he’s sorry for the past and came to apologize.” Lori grabbed a dust cloth from under the counter. “Sometimes regret changes a man, rare as it might be.” She grinned and went to work cleaning the inside of the glass.
Gracie stepped away from the counter to give her room. “But he couldn’t have known I was here. We haven’t talked in seven years.”
“He couldn’t have contacted your mother? I thought you said your families were close once upon a time.” Lori sprayed cleaner over the top of the case and rubbed. “I’m sure there were ways if he was determined.”
“What if he’s here for something else, something that has nothing to do with me at all?”
“Isn’t that what you want?” Lori set the bottle on the counter and tilted her head to one side. “To be left alone?”
No. Yes. Gracie shrugged. “I guess so.”
“Girl, you’ve got it bad, even after all this time.” Lori shook her head and resumed her cleaning.
A familiar ache started in the base of Gracie’s stomach until it filled her insides with a heavy layer of regret. “Even if I do, it doesn’t matter.” She looked away, the ache doubling in intensity. “It never did before.”
“What do you mean?” Lori paused, holding the rag inches above the countertop.
“Carter was my fairy tale, never my reality.” Gracie picked up a stuffed penguin dressed in a tuxedo and squeezed. “He was just this dream I had until I grew up.” She snorted. Dream, misunderstanding, mistake—same difference.
“So what happened?”
Gracie set the penguin down and sadly adjusted its little black bow tie. “I realized some toads never turn into princes.”
Chapter Two
Carter flopped down on the sofa and propped booted feet on the coffee table. His friend and college roommate, Andy Stewart, handed him a Dr. Pepper before claiming the La-Z-Boy. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” Carter opened the can and took a quick sip, the fizz bubbling in his throat on the way down.
“So what’s up, man? You that nervous about performing for the kids?” Andy jacked the handle on the recliner, and the footrest popped into place.
“Not really. Your youth group at L’Eglise de Grace can’t be worse than the crowds I’ve played before.” Carter shook his head with a grin. “And if they are, we have a whole new problem on our hands, Pastor.”
Andy laughed. “Hey, I’ve done what I can with them. But they’re still teenagers—so no promises.”
“Hopefully they won’t throw rotten vegetables.”
Dr. Pepper spewed from Andy’s lips. He sat up straight and wiped his chin with his hand. “People have actually done that?”
“Well, not veggies. But a drunk guy threw a shoe once.”
“No wonder you retired.”
Retired, quit. Was it the same? Not really, but Andy knew the details, knew that Carter’s faith was what led him to leave the stage lights and his band far behind. If not for his friend’s guidance, he would have put down his guitar permanently, but Andy convinced him to try singing in churches instead of in clubs.
Nothing had been quite the same since.
“If you aren’t nervous about performing Thursday night at my church, then what gives? And don’t pull the jet-lag card on me—you only drove about five hours to get here.”
“I ran into someone today I wasn’t expecting.” Carter took another gulp from his soda can. “It didn’t go so well.” To put it mildly. He waited at the aquarium for Gracie until closing time, when he was politely asked to leave by a security guard who needed to lock up. Gracie had successfully avoided him after the penguin’s showing—not that he really blamed her.
“Must have been a woman.” Andy’s eyes darkened with understanding as he leaned forward to rest his drink on the coffee table. “Ex-girlfriend?”
“Sort of.” He and Gracie had never dated, thanks to him. But if he could go back…
Carter couldn’t sit anymore, not with the weight of the past pressing against his shoulders. He stood and moved to the window in the living room, shoving aside the curtain to look down onto the road below. A streetcar stopped at the corner and passengers filed out—a tall brunette in a long, camel-colored jacket, a potbellied man in overalls, a teen boy with spiked hair and a studded dog collar. The rest of the patrons followed behind, adjusting their jackets and purses, some talking, others holding hands. A few walked with their heads down, arms crossed, as if the city or maybe the world itself were out to get them.
He recognized that stance. Carter rested his shoulder against the wall, eyes fixed on the fading golden sunlight spilling over the streets. He knew how it felt to hide, to grow tired of the mask. He walked around with his own arms crossed in a protective gesture for most of his life—the result of a fishbowl existence, lost within the murky waters of his father’s church. People thought they saw everything, but they only saw what they wanted. Never the truth.
The streetcar moved away from the corner and continued down the block, out of his line of vision. He let the curtain fall and turned back to Andy.
His friend studied him with narrowed eyes. “I’m not sure if I should offer to pray with you or give you the remote control.”
Carter snorted and sat back on the couch. “Now I know you pity me. You never shared the remote in college.”
“You were hardly there, anyway.” Andy’s eyebrow quirked. “Day or night.”
“Don’t remind me,” Carter groaned. “The life of a rockstar.” His guitar, propped in the corner of the room near the fireplace hearth, caught his eye and he winced at the memories. How many screaming fans and busted strings and bright lights had it seen? Too many to count—though those days were all but over. Church crowds didn’t react quite the same way to his music.
“Sacrifices are never simple.” Andy nodded. “You had a big one to make.”
“Funny thing is I don’t miss it.”
“Not even a little?”
Carter shrugged. “Maybe a little.” He’d been lead singer of Cajun Friday for years. He never would have thought a high school band could have lasted so long and gained so much popularity in college and beyond. But if he was serious about honoring God with his life, he was more than willing to start from scratch and do things right this time, do something big and meaningful with his future as his parents always hoped he might—even if his dad wasn’t around to see it happen now. Bitterness clogged his throat and he coughed.
“I can’t wait to hear you play again.” Andy edged the recliner back a notch and stretched