"Is—" I hesitated. "I mean, why—"
"Hm? If you're tired, by all means, get settled in your room, sleep. See him in the morning. I'm sure he's around. He's—"
"Have you gone to see him?" I blurted.
"Of course. Yes, of course." Nate smiled, but his smile was tight. "More than once. He's, you know... I'm his oldest brother. It's different. I come around and he feels like I'm babying him. It doesn't work." He laughed.
Nate's smile, his rambling, that anxious laugh—none of it was comforting.
I caught him looking at me.
"He's not dangerous, Hannah."
I felt so small. I hugged my backpack.
Not dangerous, that was easy for Nate to say. Matt hadn't blasted Nate's life apart.
"Is he suicidal?" I whispered.
"No! God, no." Nate's knuckles were white.
We drove the rest of the way to Geneva in silence. I wanted to ask Nate a million things—when did you last see him? how do you know he's not suicidal?—but my questions only seemed to make Nate tense, and his tension was feeding mine.
I had no idea whether I'd check into the hotel that night or go see Matt.
I was chickening out big time.
A friendly but tired-looking Enterprise employee walked me through the car pickup. Nate filled out the paperwork, asking for my signature here and there. Of course he booked me a Ford Escape and not a cheaper economy car.
The night air was freezing. Nate carried my suitcase to the car and we idled beside it, reviewing directions on my iPhone. He'd overburdened me with maps, advice, and contact information. I shivered as our conversation wound down.
Abruptly, Nate hugged me.
"Thank you, Hannah," he said, releasing me at once.
I studied my feet.
"I care about him," I said. "So much."
"I know. I know that now. He needs you."
"I know."
Hearing Nate say those words—he needs you—galvanized me. I was here for a purpose. I was here for the man I loved, not to hide in a swanky resort.
"I'll be in touch," I said. I squeezed Nate's shoulder and climbed into the car.
The resort was just minutes from the rental place; the cabin was just minutes from the resort, north of the tip of Seneca Lake.
I drove past Geneva on the Lake and got my bearings.
Within ten minutes, I was turning onto the gravel road that led out to Matt's Uncle's cabin. I drove slowly into total darkness. My tires crunched on the country road and my high beams illuminated slices of forest.
My palms were sweating on the wheel.
Matt, my Matt. I hadn't seen him in so long. My eyes ached to see him, my hands to touch him. My whole heart reached out for him.
The driveway to the cabin amounted to two dirt ruts through wooded land. I stopped when my headlights glanced off a window. If Matt was asleep, I wanted to let him sleep.
I walked the rest of the way. The October night prickled along my arms.
Tall trees surrounded the cabin, which was a cozy midsized structure with a wrap-around porch. Chimes hung from the eaves and tolled quietly in the dark.
I brought up my hand to knock on the door, and then I tried the knob spontaneously. It turned in my grip.
My heart stuttered as I crept into the cabin. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I made out a kitchen table and counter littered with bottles, most of them empty.
A fly buzzed in the otherwise perfect quiet. Dishes slanted in piles from the sink and a sour odor pervaded the air.
Broken glass on the floor.
Ashtrays bristling with butts.
Clothes and papers strewn everywhere.
Something rustled. My eyes darted to the corner, where Laurence sat in his cage. He watched me with shining eyes. I tiptoed to him. He pressed his body close to me and I smiled, touching his fur through the bars.
"Hey there," I whispered. "It's okay now. You're okay."
A metallic click sounded at my back.
I spun.
I was looking at Matt.
I was looking at the muzzle of a gun.
CHAPTER 25
Matt
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HANNAH FROZE SO completely, it was like I had stopped time.