“I know, Hannah. I know you like I know my own self.”
“How come I don’t know you like that?” I remembered the memorial guests relating stories about Matt. I remembered Nate discussing Matt’s faith. I even remembered the laughter I heard as I hid in Nate’s basement, which seemed to mock me for being an outsider. Outside of the mystery of the man I loved.
“You do, Hannah. You know me. Let’s not say good-bye. Say you’ll see me soon.”
“I’ll see you soon,” I said.
“So soon. I love you, Hannah.”
Matt hung up first. I tossed the phone onto the bed, but I picked it up immediately and returned it to the wall safe in the closet. Don’t leave this lying around, Matt told me the day he came home with two prepaid cells. Keep the minute cards in the safe too. No one can see these things. And we can’t use them all the time; we can’t talk every day. It’s too risky.
How did he know all that stuff?
Sometimes, I got a feeling that Matt had contemplated vanishing before.
I changed into my yoga pants and workout top.
I set my yoga mat and water bottle by the door.
Music. I needed music, or TV or maybe a movie. I needed noise and distraction—which reminded me.
I unpacked my laptop and booted it up. I sat cross-legged on the bed as I waited for iTunes to load.
Then, with a smile on my lips, I deleted every Goldengrove song in my library. Good-bye, Seth Sky, I thought.
I never expected to see him again, and I resented the swirl of confusion I felt when I thought about him. It was Matt I loved. Matt I wanted. I didn’t need anything from his dark-haired, cynical brother.
Chapter 14
MATT
Hannah sat on our bed, angled away from me. Her shoulders moved with quiet sobs. The room was dark, and I could just make out the silvery satin of her nightie.
“Hannah?” I reached for her. “Baby, why are you crying?”
“I miss you,” she whispered.
“Bird, I’m right here.”
“You’re not. You don’t want to be.”
Something tightened inside me. I didn’t want to be with Hannah?
“You’re the one who won’t run away with me,” I said. “You won’t leave Denver … won’t leave your life. You don’t want to be with me.”
“Matt … I miss you. Where are you?”
With that, Hannah slipped off the bed and rushed out of the room. I watched, mesmerized, as her little nightie shifted around her body, as her curls fanned across her back, and she disappeared out the bedroom door.
“Hannah!” I darted after her.
I reached the hallway in time to see her rounding the corner into the kitchen.
I heard the condo door opening.
When I got there, I found the door hanging open and no Hannah.
“Hannah!” I called. “Where the hell are you going?”
Barefoot, I dashed down the complex stairs and out into the Denver night. A wall of cold air crashed into me. Improbably, a crowd filled the street—masses of strangers milling and laughing. I glimpsed Hannah’s body vanishing into the mob.
Silver satin. Pale skin. Dark, thick, heavy hair.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
“Hannah!” I lunged after her. A commanding anger filled my voice. “Hannah, get back here!” The crowd on the street closed around me. Hannah slipped away effortlessly; I slammed into an immovable jam of bodies.
“M. Pierce!” someone shouted.
“Matt! Matthew Sky!” said another.
Strange hands touched me. Eyes staring. Voices rising.
“Hannah!” I roared. “Hannah!”
My eyes flared open.
I lay alone in the cabin bedroom, my arm outstretched and hand grasping air. Fuck. My heart pounded in my ears.
Was I screaming Hannah’s name? My throat was raw.
I sat up and checked the time. Seven at night. My cell and Jack Reacher novel lay at my side. I must have dozed after getting off with Hannah.
When I collected my breath, I forced myself out of bed and pulled on jeans. The wind had picked up. It gusted against the cabin—a lonely, howling sound—and I felt hollow.