I cross my arms over my chest, biting the inside of my cheek to keep myself steady.
Joel glances at me.“Well?”
I exhale sharply, refusing to look at him.
“I guess it doesn’t suck,” I grumble.“But you need to work on the lyrics at some point.”
“Yeah, I know.”He chuckles, fiddling with the strings like he’s perfectly at ease.No sign of the terrible player from earlier.Go figure.
Instead, he’s acting like he isn’t pushing all my buttons just by existing.
I glare at the guitar, trying to focus only on the song.
But why does it feel like something more?
Joel shifts beside me, his fingers still resting on the body of the guitar, but his focus is somewhere else.
On me.
I feel it before I see it.The quiet weight of his attention.
And then—his voice, lower than before.Softer.
“Can I use it?”
I blink at him, not sure I heard him right.“What?”
He nods toward the guitar.“The changes.The way we fixed it.”
Eh-hem, he must mean the wayIfixed it.
However, something flickers in my chest, sharp and fast.
I shove it down.Bury it.
It’s a simple question.
Anormalone.
Not a big deal.
And yet?—
Joel doesn’t ask permission for anything.
Not for the song he stole.
Not for the years he let pass without a word while he played it all over the eastern seaboard.
Not for the way he walked back into my life, acting like it didn’t matter.
But now—now—he’s asking.
Something about that doesn’t compute.
Something about it makes my throat tight.
I lift my chin, grasping for the safest response.“Do whatever you want.”