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?”
