Fused (Lost in Oblivion #4.5) by Cari Quinn, Taryn Elliott

asked.
    “Duh. As if it’s even a question.” She grabbed the turquoise one and slipped the strap over her head. “I remember this weight,” she said softly. Dreamily. “The comfort of the strap around my neck.”
    “You loved playing. You schooled me more than a time or two.”
    “It was a long time ago.” But her fingers were already sliding over the strings, playing faint notes that reverberated through him in spite of the fact she wasn’t plugged into an amp. “I barely remember.”
    “Oh, I bet you could if you tried. Remember Lucy?”
    She nodded, plucking out the first few chords of “Lucy in The Sky with Diamonds” as if barely a moment had passed since the last time. Her full name was Richelle Lucille, and their mother had always called her Lucy and sung this song to her. It had been the first thing they’d learned to play on their own.
    Lightly, he gripped the arm of the chair and waited, hoping like hell she wouldn’t stop. Every muscle in his body was stung tight. When she faltered, he rose and grabbed the Gibson. He jumped into the song with her, his fingers finding the correct strings without conscious thought. Together, they went all the way through the melody, fumbling a few times, hitting a few off notes, but never stopping. She hummed along, the smile on her face as potent as the simple joy at sharing this with his sister again.
    He’d never truly given up hope that they would. And now it was a reality.
    At the end of the song, her fingers fell still. She frowned, a little wrinkle forming between her eyes.
    He cleared his throat and frantically flipped through his memories, trying to figure out what song would be best to try next. Nothing too difficult, but no cake song that she wouldn’t enjoy either. This was about helping her remember all the happiness the guitar had given her. Hell, maybe they should play Lucy again, see if they could refine it a little more—
    His phone buzzed in his jeans pocket with an incoming text. He ignored it, but it buzzed again and again.
    “Just a second. I gotta see who this is,” he muttered, pulling out his cell.
    Simon maybe? Or…yeah, he wasn’t even going with an “or”. There was being hopeful and then there was being ridiculous.
    The name on the readout stopped his heart.
    Lila Shawcross .
    Just business, most likely. She’d texted him in the past. Though her preferred mode of communication was a phone call, because she didn’t want to chance anyone wiggling out of a meeting through claimed communication issues. She’d happily run one of her artists to ground.
    God, his fucking finger shook as he swiped the screen.
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    L S : Need your thoughts. Listen to this clip.
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    F rowning , he pressed play. A wailing guitar burst from his iPhone’s speakers, along with the rhythmic backbeat of drums and the oddly melodic bridge of a piano. Just a few keys at first, then more and more until each of the three instruments seemed to blend in a perfect storm of sound.
    He replied before he considered why she’d asked.
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    N C : It’s fucking incredible. Who’s the artist?
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    “ W ho was that ?” Ricki asked, still cradling the guitar. “That song…it was kickass and haunting, all at once. And those guitars—”
    “I don’t know who it is.” He stared at the screen. She hadn’t replied yet. Maybe she wouldn’t.
    Hope could flare to life—and be dashed—so easily.
    “Who sent it to you?”
    “My girl—” He stopped and exhaled. Not his girl. She’d made that clear. “Lila sent it. My manager.”
    “That’s not what you were going to say,” she teased. “Besides, silly, you already told me about her, remember? The girl you swept off to New York for a romantic weekend. Or else she swept you.”
    “We swept each other.” He swallowed and shut his eyes so he wouldn’t have to gaze at a blank screen. “She’s married, and she doesn’t want me anymore.”
    Aw, Christ, he hadn’t meant to say that. Not to his sister, not to