Page 101 of Love Me Steadfast
Zach comes over. “Charlotte, this is Everett. He’s been helping me with Morgan’s investigation.”
Morgan’s investigationrattles around in my mind while he and Everett share a silent glance.
“Can I look inside?” I ask.
William appears next to me while the conversation ramps back up from the patio. “We can go into the living room.”
As we trail into the sunken living room to the left, a burst of radio chatter fills the silence, but Everett is quick to turn the knob to quiet it. He sets the guitar on the coffee table.
I squat down and click open the bronze clasps, then lift the lid. The scent from inside, musky and familiar, swirls around me while the bright lighting reflects the rich, honey shine of the wood. A woven strap is attached to the neck and the button at the base. Morgan was always too lazy to remove it for storage after she played, something that used to irk me to no end.
“May I?” I ask Everett.
Standing to the side, partly in shadow from the dark hallway, he nods.
I give all six strings a soft strum. The sound is muffled by the case, the strings terribly out of tune, but that they’re in working order brings me a flash of relief. I shift the case to the side and settle on the edge of the coffee table, the guitar braced off my thigh, and strum again, louder this time.
“Is it okay?” William asks from where he’s perched on the arm of the couch.
“I think so.” I can’t help adjusting the pegs to bring the guitar back into tune. “Where did you find it?”
Everett makes quick eye contact with Zach before he says. “It turned up in a bust Friday night.”
I want to ask if R.J. was part of that bust, but the words fizzle in my throat. Instead, I tell myself itdoesn’t matter.
“I’ll just have you sign a release,” Everett says, pulling out a phone in a thick, worn case. He pulls up a screen for me, then hands it over. I skim the legalese then sign with my fingertip.
“Thank you for bringing this over.” I lock eyes with him. “It means a lot.”
He smiles. “Welcome. We’re still hunting for the violin and the trumpet. We have a couple of leads, so…” His eyes soften.
I play a couple of chords. It’s not perfectly tuned yet, but it sounds rich and bright, just like I remember.
Zach cups Everett’s shoulder, and the two of them head for the door.
“Wait!” I set the guitar in its case, then brush past them to the entryway where I left my purse hanging from the coat rack, and dig out Morgan’s phone.
“Here, we found this today. It’s Morgan’s.” My voice is fast and breathy, and there’s a tremor in my fingers as I drop the phone into Everett’s hand.
I give him the unlock code, and he tries it, then nods.
“Thank you,” Everett says, navigating to the settings. Most likely to keep it unlocked. He and Zach slip outside.
Back in the living room, I fasten the clasps on the guitar case and set it on the ground.
“Think Morgan will be happy to see it?” William asks.
The question chafes something raw inside me. Or I’m remembering the state of Morgan’s bedroom that first day. The empty instrument closet and dusty piano keys. “It’s worth a try, right?”
He steps closer, and I’m so relieved when he pulls me into a gentle hug that my exhale catches in my throat.
The choice I made back then was never intended to separate Morgan from music, from creating. If anything, it was intended to give her an avenue tocontinueplaying.
I’ve made so many mistakes. Can I fix what’s broken without scarring myself and the people I love a second time?
“Is it Morgan’s?” Theo asks from the patio doorway, making me jump back.
“Yeah,” I croak. I risk a glance, but his gaze is fixed on William. A chill settles low and heavy in the air separating us.
