Someone was standing in my doorway. The air went out of my lungs. That voice, that tall frame. I yanked my feet off the desk and nearly tipped over in my office chair.
Oh my god, it was—
Not Matt.
But it was!
It was Matt plus a few years and black hair and a friendly smile.
The man advanced, his hand thrust toward me. He was dressed in a stylish dark suit. I stumbled to my feet and shook his hand.
"Yes, hi," I said.
The man's likeness to Matt derailed me. I stood there blinking owlishly at him.
"Nathaniel Sky. Call me Nate."
I plunked into my chair.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I gave you a shock."
Gave me a shock? More like a violent blow to the heart. I was looking at Matt's brother. Memories of Matt went off like fireworks in my brain. My eyes watered. The way Nate was smiling, his graceful carriage, his imposing presence—it was all Matt.
"Well." He cleared his throat. "I won't take much of your time."
"S-sorry, I... sorry. Yeah, no, um, sit, please..."
Wow, English.
Nate chuckled and tilted his head. The gesture was so Matt that I had to turn away.
"I've come to ask a favor, Hannah. Can I call you Hannah?"
I nodded. Safe to say, coherent sentences would not be forthcoming.
Nate ignored the chair. He moved around my desk and his heavy hand came to rest on my shoulder. Thankfully, the touch was genial and comforting, not one of Matt's touches.
Matt's touches... demanding, desperate.
I removed my glasses and rubbed at my eyes. I couldn't believe, after almost three months, how much raw emotion I felt.
"I didn't come here to bring you pain," Nate said quietly. I ventured a glance at him and he smiled gently. "I've heard so much about you. I wouldn't have come if I had any other option. I need your help. You must know this is about Matt."
I blinked rapidly.
"How is he?" I whispered.
"Not good." Nate shook his head. "Not good, Hannah." He turned and walked to the window, gazing down at the street. I studied his back while I collected my wits. Geez, the gene pool was seriously skewed in the Sky family's favor. Go figure.
"He's drinking. I don't know how else to put it." Nate's voice was low and full of feeling. "Hannah, he's my brother. He's my little brother..."
It was weirdly comforting not to be the only person at a loss for words.
We were both silent for a while, fighting our emotions.
"What can I do?" I said at last.
"Maybe nothing. I don't know. I could always pull him back from these ledges. Not this time." Again, Nate shook his head. He was so somber; it was like we were talking about a dead man. I shuddered and my heart lurched. How bad was Matt?
"Where is he? What's happening?"
Nate turned and met my eyes.
"I knew you would help," he said. "He told me so much about you. I knew you had to be—" Whatever Nate was going to say, he let it go. A Pam-like efficiency came over him. This, I could see, was far easier for Nate than emotion.
"Good," he said. Had I agreed to something? "He's staying at our uncle's cabin in Upstate New York. I got you a one-way ticket to the nearest airport and a rental car. Anything can be moved, date-wise, but I don't see why—"
"Wait, what?"
Nate produced a folder from his laptop bag and began spreading documents on my desk. He looked earnestly between me and the papers, his dark brows raised.
"Hm? I've cleared your schedule with Pam, don't worry. She and I have spoken. We all have a common interest here, which is—"
"Excuse me? Look, I—"