Page 152 of Bend

“That’s a prettier word for lurking.”

He pushes away from the doorway and walks farther into the room. “You told me you played. You left out the part where you can actually sing.”

“I didn’t leave it out.”

“You definitely did.”

“You never asked.”

His brow lifts. “You told me you write songs. Pretty sure singing was implied somewhere in there.”

“Then why are you acting surprised?”

“I’m not surprised you sing.” His expression softens slightly. “I’m surprised you’re that good.”

I look back down at the guitar.

He sits on the other end of the couch, one arm resting across the back cushion while he looks at me with that steady expression of his.

“You’re really good, Echo.”

My stomach does something deeply annoying.

I shrug and start adjusting the guitar against my thigh even though it doesn’t need adjusting.

“I’m all right.”

“No.”

I glance over.

“You’re good.”

“You two lines of a song.”

“I heard enough.”

“It’s unfinished.”

“Doesn’t make your voice unfinished.”

I look down at the strings again.

“I just mess around with it.”

Wolfe goes quiet for a second.

I can feel him watching me.

Then he says, “You do that a lot.”

I frown. “Do what?”

“Make yourself smaller right after somebody tells you you’re good at something.”

My fingers stop moving.

Well.