Page 57

Barrett was counting down the days until the end of February. He’d been counting for a while now, but once it had made it to the single digits, it was finally starting to feel real.

Four days until he and the band would be on a plane to LA to meet the people who thought they were worth hearing more of. A short trip, but the trip.

They were going to sign a piece of paper that was everything he’d dreamed about since the day he got his first guitar.

But before all that, he had to finish this shift—his last shift at the store before he made his life one hundred percent by performing music and not selling it over the counter.

He flicked through the vinyls, making sure that all the right ones were in the right genre and alphabetically listed.

The bell over the door rang, and Barrett turned to look.

He stilled, his stomach dropping.

Pastor Duncan singled Barrett out just as quickly, his forehead wrinkling as he paused, then he looked down and continued into the store without acknowledging him.

If anyone else was working, Barrett might have steered clear of crossing paths with the man enough to avoid any awkwardness, but he was the only one who could ring him up if he was going to buy something.

He could only hope he wouldn’t.

Barrett tried to focus on his organizing, but after he’d placed the same record in the wrong spot three times, he gave up and went behind the counter to distract himself.

His hope was short lived.

As soon as Barrett was behind there, Pastor Duncan approached. Barrett held his breath, waiting for the man to say something, but he said nothing.

He simply placed a pair of guitar picks on the counter.

Barrett stared at them for a moment, understanding what it meant right away. Nell had received his gift on Christmas.

He knew, when he’d left it on their porch, that there was a chance she would never know he had gotten it for her, and he knew it was better to just let it be than try and involve himself any more right now. She needed time, and he needed to focus.

But this was the answer he needed. Those two guitar picks were exactly what he’d hoped for.

He smiled down at them softly and hoped she found it as useful as he had over the years.

He rang the pastor up without saying much other than the price of the picks and taking payment.

The pastor said nothing as he picked up the small bag of his purchase, and Barrett realized that was all he could get about her. He wanted to call out and ask if she was doing okay. If he had made the right decision.

But when he tried to open his mouth, nothing came out.

The pastor was three steps from the door when he paused. He stood still for moments, then after an eternity of anticipation, he turned and met Barrett’s eye. “She’s doing much better,” he said. “Spends a lot of time playing guitar now, among other things.”

With years of differences, Barrett expected the man to be tense as he admitted it, but instead, Barrett could see the gratitude written all over him.

Barrett nodded, relief soaring through him. It gave him the answer he needed: the pastor had given her what he could not, and that was what she needed. Barrett grinned. “She had a good teacher.”

The pastor smiled, his expression soft and kind. “So I’ve heard.”

The bells rang as Pastor Duncan left the shop, and Barrett was ready for the next step in his life.