“Yeah.” She buried her face in my coat.
“No more of this. Don’t come back to the cabin; it’ll be locked. Don’t stay in Denver. Go home. Do you have all your things?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Hannah knows you published Night Owl. I think my brother knows, too.”
Mel flinched in my arms. Her head shot up. “He does?”
“Yes. Just listen to me, Mel.” I gripped her shoulder, my bandaged hand hanging uselessly at my side. “If anyone calls or e-mails you about the book, you don’t speak to them. Soon it will be over. And remember, I told you to put Night Owl up for sale.”
Mel’s brow creased. “No, you d—”
“Yes,” I said, “I did. Are you not hearing me? I contacted you online in January. I didn’t reveal my identity to you, but I gave you a link to my story on the Mystic Tavern and I gave you permission to publish it as an e-book, and so you did. I told you to keep the earnings, which you did. You’ve done nothing illegal, and you didn’t know I was Matthew Sky. We never met.”
“Why?” Mel said.
“Do you want my brother to sue you? He just might, Mel, even if he knows I wrote the book. What I told you is your story. Tell it to me.”
Mel looked at her feet. God, what a child she was. She only saw me erasing her from my life. She didn’t see that I was protecting her.
“You … contacted me online—”
“Not me,” I snapped. “A stranger. Via the forum. Start again.”
“Okay, okay. A stranger contacted me on the forum. Gave me a link to the story and told me to publish it and keep the money, so I did.”
“There’s my Alexis Stromgard.” I forced a smile, which felt thin and defeated. “Oh, and I told you what pen name to use. I told you to use W. Pierce, didn’t I?”
Mel nodded. I paused, considering her face.
“Why did you use W. Pierce, anyway?”
“I wanted to give you some credit,” she said. “I knew you wrote it, Matt. I just knew it; I could tell. And so I knew you had to be alive. I wanted to get your attention.”
I laughed suddenly, although I wasn’t happy. She wanted to get my attention?
“Well, Melanie vanden Dries.” I gave her a kiss on the cheek. “That you did.”
*
Every bump in the road sent a pulse of pain through my hand.
Mel kept glancing at me—I felt her anxious stare—but I watched the passing scenery.
Mel didn’t play music. I barely let myself think. If I thought, after all, my mind ran in circles. Why am I even going to Denver? It’s over with Hannah, and I should have stayed at the cabin. I need a new plan. I need …
What?
The winding mountain road cut through one-street towns, and soon we were on the highway and I felt the unavoidable pull of the city. I slouched in my seat. Exit ramps and neighborhoods went zinging past. The world that wanted to stare into this car, and into my life.
Soon it would get its wish.
About half an hour from Denver, I dialed Nate on my prepaid cell.
We hadn’t spoken in months. I’d decided we should avoid contact after I staged my death—but that didn’t matter now.
Several long rings sounded on the line.
Then, my brother’s voice. “Hello?”
“Nate, it’s me.”
“Oh…” He went quiet. I knew emotion had a hand around his throat.
“It’s good to hear your voice, Nate.”
“Matt. How are you?”
“I’m all right. Don’t worry, I’m all right.”
I heard a muffled, choked sob. God, it really fucked me up when Nate cried. I turned away from Mel as best I could and lowered my voice.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I’m coming back to Denver, okay? It’s over.”
“Thank God. Can I see you?”
Nate told me he was in Denver then. “Checking up on Hannah,” he explained, and he talked about Hannah in his hotel room and their argument and her departure. I ground my teeth as I listened. Nausea roiled in the pit of my stomach. Of course, I thought. This is how Hannah found out about Melanie. Nate’s lawsuit. Nate’s involvement in my phony death. All of it.