“Sweetheart?”
He dropped his backpack near the door.
“Yeah, Mom?”
“Where’s your guitar?”
He froze.
Immediately.
That was enough to tell me something had happened.
“Ethan?”
His eyes dropped toward the floor.
“I sold it.”
For a second, I genuinely thought I had misunderstood him.
“You did what?”
“I sold the guitar.”
I stared.
The guitar we had saved for.
The guitar he polished like it was a museum piece.
The guitar he played every single day.
“Why would you sell it without asking me?”
He swallowed.
Then quietly said:
“Sophie needed a wheelchair.”
And suddenly, the conversation became something completely different.
SOPHIE FROM WILLOWCREST MIDDLE SCHOOL
I knew Sophie.
Not well.
But I had seen her plenty of times during school events in Bellmere.
She was in Ethan’s grade.
Bright girl.
Always carrying a book.
Quick smile.
She used a wheelchair because of an accident when she was younger.
