Page 40 of Love Me Steadfast
When I slip into the hallway, muted viola notes filter down from Crosby’s private lesson room on the other side of the house. It makes my heart happy to know he put his passion to work helping kids. Does he still audition, or is he content playing for weddings and parties and teaching? Is this how my life would have turned out if I’d returned to Finn River like he did?
Walkinginto The Sweet Spot floods me with so many good memories that I almost miss Wren waiting at the back of the line.
“Oh my god you’re here!” she whisper shouts, wrapping her arms around me. I hug her back, inhaling her subtle jasmine scent mixed with a hint of sweet alfalfa. She’s dressed for ranch work in Wranglers, a fleece pullover, and her trusty pair of ropers, her long hair tied back in a braid. The only thing missing is her trusty cowboy hat.
When we step apart, we both have tears in our eyes. She laughs, wiping hers away. “It’s so good to see you.” She links our arms. “Are you hungry?”
What is it about being back in Finn River that makes food taste better? “Starved,” I say while scanning the menu board. Because of my busy morning, lunch was a tiny tube of trail mix and tap water. “Everything looks good.”
“They have a new peanut butter and honey shake that’s pretty awesome,” she says. “Definitely filling, even for your bottomless stomach.”
I laugh. After we place our orders, we walk through the narrow eating space alongside the kitchen to the fenced outdoor courtyard in the back. A half dozen round wood tables, some with brightly colored umbrellas sprouting from the centers, fill the space. A giant Magnolia tree grows in the corner, creating a welcome pool of shade. White fairy lights spiral up the trunk and around the lower branches. Two of the tables are occupied—one by an older couple dressed like tourists, or maybe it’s a first date, and the other by a group of men and women with their laptops open, like they’re having a work meeting. A giant black Labrador is tied to the leg of one of the chairs. Though he’s passed out asleep on his side, his nose twitching in the dirt, I choose a table on the opposite side of the courtyard.
We’ve barely sat down when a woman follows us out carrying two giant smoothie bowls heaped with granola and fruit.
“Enjoy!” she says, then retreats.
My chocolate peanut butter smoothie bowl is piled high with sliced bananas, seeds, shredded coconut, and toasted walnuts. Gratitudefloods me so fast I have to blink back emotions and rub my tight chest.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Fortunately, Wren is too focused on tucking her napkin on her lap to notice.
“How’s your new place?” I ask, picking up my spoon. “…and living together?”
Wren gives a dreamy sigh. “Denny’s just the sweetest. Our place is great. Small, but we don’t care.” Her big brown eyes shine with sincerity. “I mean, you’re welcome to stay with us. But we don’t even have a couch yet. And there are boxes everywhere.”
“It’s okay. Will’s place is fine.”
Her eyebrows knit together. “Wait…you’re staying at William’s? I thought…”
“Theo and Will are roommates.”
She gives me a slow nod. “And you guys are cool with it?”
Back then, I couldn’t share the truth about why I ended things with Will, so I went with a version of it.He’s going to Oregon, next stop the NFL. I’m going to Cornish, next stop a career in music.
“It’s a little awkward, but we’re managing,” I reply, and spoon a bite of my bowl. The rich chocolate is the perfect sweetness mixed with the crunchy walnuts. That same mix of emotions pulses through me, but this time I don’t fight it. It feels good. Almost like pleasure, or a version of it.
“Because he wants you back,” Wren says after swallowing a giant bite. She grins.
A fluttery heat coils low in my belly. “I don’t know.”
“When was the last time you guys…talked?” Wren asks, spooning up another bite. Hers is some kind of berry version topped with sliced mango and granola.
“He came to Boxcar’s last show.” Even though William stood in the back, I could never miss those eyes. Or that unmistakable susurrus bending the airwaves whenever he’s near, a steadfast pulse beating in sync with mine the way no one else’s ever has.
This isn’t an answer to Wren’s question, but she doesn’t push.
“I heard he saved Morgan’s life,” she says, compassion shining in her eyes.
“He did.”
“I want to hear about how she’s doing, but…” She covers my hand with hers. Her skin is warm and smooth, and the contact with my oldest friend kicks off a cartwheel of warmth inside me. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m okay, thanks. Morgan’s recovering, and for now, she’s safe. I’m rehearsing at Crosby’s.”
She pulls her hand away and spoons another bite. “I see him around sometimes. He keeps to himself.”
