Page 155 of Bend

Everything does, actually.

My voice comes out quieter than before because knowing someone is listening changes the whole fucking thing, and I hate that Wolfe notices because his expression softens without him saying a word.

So I keep going.

The verse.

The line I changed.

Then the chorus.

“Leave a light on if I’m late coming home,

I’ve been lost long enough to know…”

I let the missing line breathe instead of forcing something into it, then move into the only other lyric I’ve decided I actually like.

“Maybe home’s just somewhere

they notice when you’re gone.”

The last chord fades slowly beneath my fingers.

I stare down at the strings.

“Well?”

Wolfe is quiet for long enough that my nerves immediately start crawling back in.

Then he says, “Play it again.”

I look up. “That’s your feedback?”

“Yep.”

“You’re useless.”

“Maybe.” His knee bumps mine.“But I want to hear it again.”

Something warm settles in my chest. I glance down at the notebook, at the unfinished chorus and all the crossed-out lines surrounding it, then reposition my fingers over the strings.

This time when I start from the beginning, I don’t keep my voice as low.

Wolfe doesn’t interrupt.

Doesn’t try to tell me what the song means or fix the missing line for me.

He just sits beside me and listens.

And for once, being heard doesn’t feel anything like being exposed.

Chapter Nineteen

Wolfe

The Mountain Course doesn’t leave much room in my head for anything except whatever’s coming next.

That’s probably one of the things I love most about it.