Finding the network, she connected the devices and keyed in a playlist for oldies, stuff Nash would never play, music before his time and outside of his repertoire.
The tiny headphones rested in her ears as a slow drumbeat played, followed by a group of silver-tongued crooners harmonizing to The Still of the Night. She smiled, her chest lifting with a lightness that could only come from the magic made by music and the memories she now associated with this song.
Slipping her foot onto the pedal, she gripped her handlebars and rode to work. She couldn’t get enough. On the ride home from work that night, she took the long way, just to listen to a few extra songs and feel the wind hitting her face.
Hints of spring were finally showing in the grass and on the trees. She patiently watched for flowers to push through the soggy April ground and add color to the dreary smear of landscape left by winter. The daffodils would be the first to show, dotting the trees that lined Main Street, but none had bloomed just yet.
She used to love the snow, sledding, winter holidays, cuddling up with a toasty mug of hot chocolate, but her favorite pastimes had forever changed when her husband slid off the road. If not for the treacherous winters and snow eaten highways, he might still be here.
When she parked her bike in front of the shed, she danced across the lawn and into the house. Still bopping along to her oldies, she washed the dishes in the sink and carried a load of laundry to the washer. Clean towels hung on the folding rack, stiff from drying. She transferred them to a basket and carried them upstairs to fold.
The living room was really coming together. The gray walls made the new blue sofa pop. Ryan had been a great help. She thought the change would be harder, triggering a deluge of unwanted guilt and pain but it wasn’t.
The only time she semi-freaked-out was when he tried to move Nash’s instruments. It didn’t seem right to let another man hold his guitar. That belonged to Nash. It always would.
“Maggie!” Ryan plucked an earbud out of her ear, cutting off The Penguins’ Earth Angel.
She screamed, her heart catapulting out of her chest as she jumped a foot in the air. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I was knocking for five minutes.”
Her heart hammered against her ribs as she found her bearings. She removed the other earbud. “I didn’t hear you.”
“No kidding.” He laughed. “What are you listening to?” Holding the headphone to his ear, he smiled approvingly. “Nice.”
They’d been hanging out a lot lately, so she wasn’t surprised to see him. He usually came by around six-thirty. Sometimes they went halves on a pizza. Ryan ate a lot of pizza, which was probably why he was here now.
“You must be hungry.” She took out the earbuds and returned them to their wireless charging port so they’d be ready for tomorrow morning’s bike ride.
He nodded, then stilled. “Unless you want to do something different. We could go out.”
“Out?” She glanced over her shoulder as he followed her into the kitchen.
“Yeah.” His gaze shot to the cabinets as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Like a date.”
One tiny earbud flung out of her hand and across the counter. She quickly caught it and stuck it in the charger. “Oh.”
“Or we could just do pizza again. Whatever.”
They couldn’t keep doing this. She already explained that she couldn’t be more than a friend to him. She asked for time to think, but she’d finished thinking days ago. Her mind remained made up, and her heart belonged to someone else.
“I’d rather just … have pizza.”
Understanding flashed in his eyes and he did a good job of masking his disappointment. She appreciated his effort and the fact that he never made her feel bad for her inability to be more than his friend, despite making it clear that he wanted more.
She wished there was some sort of compromise she could offer. “I’m sorry.”
Her apology seemed to surprise him. “For what?”
She shrugged. He knew what.
Meeting him halfway, she suggested, “We could walk into town instead of having the pizza delivered.”
“Yeah?”
She nodded, glad to see him smile. “Sure.” So long as he understood this wasn’t a date. “It’s just pizza.”
“Right. Okay.”
It seemed a fair compromise. “I just need to get my sweatshirt and hat.”
“It’s getting dark. We could take my truck.”
She stilled at the door, her heart shuddering. “I’d rather walk.”
His footsteps approached, but he didn’t touch her. “Maggie, you’ll eventually have to drive somewhere. Why not practice small trips with someone you trust, before there’s a situation that forces you to do something before you’re ready?”
There had already been a few situations when she needed a ride, and they hadn’t gone well. She’d rather not push herself unnecessarily. She lived in a town four miles long. Worked only a twenty-minute bike ride from her house. Everything she needed was reachable by foot. Only modern standards made her choice not to drive seem weird.