Page 2 of Archer

I silenced my phone and returned to the guitar.

The ocean rolled steadily before me, waves breaking against the shore in that rhythm Gram called the earth’s heartbeat. She’d taught me to listen for it when I was stuck. When the words wouldn’t come and the melodies felt forced.

I closed my eyes and listened. Gulls. Waves. Wind through the sea oats. My breath in my lungs.

And underneath it all, that steady pulse.

The phone vibrated, and my eyes opened. Maybe I was trying too hard. It wasn’t long ago that words never stopped flowing.

Before Gram died and other things had changed.

I pressed the thought aside and answered the phone.

“Hello, Alexis.”

“Thank God.” Her voice carried loud and clear across the line. “I’m calling as your friend, not your manager.”

I set the guitar on the deck and brought my knees to my chest. “Good. I could use a friend.”

“So, you haven’t been abducted by mermaids yet.”

“I wish,” I said. “Maybe they could help me write this song.”

“Ah,” she said. “You’re stuck. I thought that might be the problem. When songwriting’s going well, I can’t reach you at all.”

I tipped my head over one shoulder. She had a point. When the music flowed, I gave myself over to it. I imagined it was a creative’s equivalent of a runner’s high. Though, I’d never experienced that and never would. I only ran when someone chased me.

The thought pulled me up short.

“How are you doing?” he asked, voice gentle. “Not the music. You.”

I looked out at the water, cheeks stinging from the bite in the air. “Better. I almost feel like myself here.”

“I’m glad you were able to get away from Nashville for a while. Clear your head. You’ve been through a lot lately. Are you eating and staying hydrated?”

The question made my throat tight. No one had asked me that since Gram died.

“I am. In fact, I ordered delivery about twenty minutes ago. It should be here any minute.” I checked the notification on my phone.

Chicken tenders, fries, and a chocolate malt were currently en route.

“How’s everything else going?” Alexis’s tone shifted again. A little quieter. A little more careful. “Any problems?”

Goosebumps cascaded over my skin, and I scanned the vacant beach.

“So far, so good.”

Alexis didn’t speak for a long moment. “Nothing’s gone wrong,” she said, tentatively. “Do you feel as if something is off?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Sometimes, but it’s probably just a mix of grief and nostalgia. My emotions are everywhere right now.”

The doorbell rang, and I stood. “Hey, that’s my food. I’ll let you know if I make any progress or need anything.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

I disconnected and headed inside, pulling the deck door shut and locking it behind me. I set my guitar on the couch and checked my phone for the notification that my order had been delivered. Usually, the app updated automatically and included a photo.