Page 64 of Doc Rock
She didn’t even try to smile, andheardanother growl from Ford. They needed to steer this meeting in a safer direction, or they would nevergeta photo of the four of them together.
Her gaze dropped to her feet.“I think I was the stupid one.”She pulled her eyes back up.“I can never apologise enough for leaving the way I did. I can’t change the way I did things back then. I was a bloody idiot. I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive me.”
She couldn’t stop herself from looking at Ford, and her heart sank when he glared back at her.
He would never forgive her.
“Beer?”Scotty offered, which made Mai’s lips quirk up.
“No. I’m good, thanks.”
“Let’s not stand in the doorway. Come in, Sie.”Donnie walked forward and put an arm over her shoulder, drawing her into the room.
Mai didn’t take more than two paces before Ford thrust something at her. She grabbed hold of it reflexively, her hands knowing whatit was.It wasthe guitar she left behind. The one she bought when they got a little bit of money for the first time.
Her eyes filled with tears as she stroked her hand over the smooth surface. After a long moment of revelling in thefeelingof her guitar, she tried to give it back. It had been Ford’s for sixteen years; he used it in their shows.It wasmore his than it had ever been hers.
He didn’t take it. “It’s yours,” he said gruffly.
“No. Ford. I can’t. You kept it. It belongs to you.”She pushed it at him again.
“It’s not. It’s never been mine. Now you’re back, I’m not keeping it.”Ford turned his back on her and walked away, opening the front door and leaving the house.
Mai’s heart cracked as he left.It washard toseethe confirmation of how much he hated her.
She dragged her eyes away from the door and stared down at the guitar she cradled in her arms.
The memories flooded back. She remembered when she chose it. She took Ford to the music shop and spent hours going from guitar to guitar—much to the irritation of the owner, who initially wanted her to pick one and leave.
When she had her selection down to two guitars, she asked to play them, and his whole attitude changed, and recognitionsparked behind the owner’s eyes when she playedSummer Days. Their song, which was getting a huge amount of airtime on the radio.
“It’s a good song,”the owner commented.“Midnight Thunder will be massive one day.”
“Yeah,”Ford agreed, his eyes not leaving Mai.
“She’s good.”The owner’s head bobbed along to the music.
“Yeah,” Ford agreed again.
“Does she play a lot?”He didn’t bother addressing Mai; she was lost in the music.
“All the time. And she writes music.”
Realisation dawned in the owner’s eyes.“You guys, you’re…“ he hesitated and peered harder at Ford. “You guys are Midnight Thunder, aren’t you?”
“Yep. That’s us.”
Mai closed her eyes and played, ignoring the shop owner who was now gushing over Ford. She never liked that part of the job. She wanted to play and write music. She didn’t want people telling her that they loved her or her music. She didn’t need that. For her, the music was enough, and she was happy to stand behind Ford as he charmingly dealt with the adoration that was becoming more and more frequent.
When she started the next chorus, Ford began to sing along. Opening her eyes, she grinned at him.
This was the one. This was her guitar.
Their gazes locked, lost in the song they wrote together. The song that would soon beknownto nearly everyone in the world.
When she walked out of the shop holding the guitar, she never thought she would let it go, that one day, she would run away, leaving it behind.
And now, so many years later, the memory of that day was so fresh, so clear, that the years she’d spent as a doctorfeltlike another life. For a moment, she wondered what life would havebeen like if she’d stayed. If she’d let Ford be everything he promised her he was going to be.
