Last Light(15)

Another light came on in the main room. I stepped out of the bedroom.

“I was lying down,” I said.

“Hell of a time for a nap.” Seth glanced at his watch. He still wore his leather jacket. I saw a strip of medical tape around his knuckles. “Who drove you home?”

“I have a headache. And one of your cousins drove me. What do you want?”

“I brought you some food.” He held out a plate. “Peace offering.”

I took the plate and retreated to a couch.

“No peace offering needed. We’re not at war. Earlier, the way you”—the way you assaulted me?—“the way you approached me about the book, that was … unacceptable. But I get it. Matt’s your brother and you think I wrote that book, but I didn’t. And if Shapiro has his way, we’ll all know who wrote it soon enough.”

I picked at a glorified piece of toast.

“Olive tapenade,” said Seth. “And egg. On the toast. It’s good. That’s a … cupcake.” He pointed, keeping his distance.

“Thanks, I see that.” I stuffed the tiramisu cupcake in my mouth.

I chewed and swallowed, and Seth stared at me.

“I like your dress,” he said.

“Uh … thank you. Yeah.” I jammed the toast in my mouth. I wanted my coat. I also wanted more food to stick in my mouth to avoid speaking.

I knew Seth’s eyes were strafing along my lace-covered arms. Something about skin peeking through lace is always sensual. I tucked the hem of the dress over my knees.

“I get what Matt saw in you,” he said.

I frowned and brushed crumbs from my lap.

“What is your deal?” I stood and moved away from Seth. “Have you been drinking? Because I haven’t, okay? I don’t really know anything about you, but it seems like you’re trying to make me uncomfortable … again. So please stop. Please leave me alone.”

“What did you see in Matt?” Seth took a step back. A laughable amount of space stood between us, plus a couch.

“I love him.”

“Loved.”

“I love him,” I said. “That doesn’t change because he’s gone.”

Seth smiled wolfishly. He sauntered over to a bookshelf and touched a spine. His posture was relaxed, his tone far cooler than mine. “I get it, Hannah. ‘Love is as strong as death,’ right?” After a space, he added, “Song of Solomon.”

“I know,” I snapped, but I didn’t. The reference was lost on me.

“You’re like a cornered animal. So defensive. I guess I deserve that. I’m not attacking you, though. I brought you some food, and I’ll go away soon, if that’s what you want.”

“Why did you hit the reporter?”

“He was taking pictures at my brother’s funeral.” Seth’s lips curled. Fire glimmered in his eyes. “I split his lip. And you ought to know he’s upstairs right now, receiving care from the good Doctor Nate. In return for not making trouble for me, the reporter gets to talk to you, just as soon as Nate finishes stitching him up.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Nate struck that deal. Obliging, huh? I knew you wouldn’t be happy about it. You weren’t happy about talking to Shapiro, either. Pretty f*cking tense in that study. You going to thank me for giving you an excuse to bolt?”

Seth drifted into the guest bedroom and emerged with my purse and coat.

“Thanks,” I muttered.

“You’re welcome. And I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“You know what.” Seth glared at the wall, struggling with his apology as Matt always did. “For earlier. For what I said. What I did…” He flexed his long fingers, and I remembered the force of his grip on my arm. Then I remembered him plowing across the cemetery to punch the reporter who dared to take pictures at Matt’s memorial, and my anger faltered.

“Apology accepted, Seth.”

“Nate and Snow will be looking for you in about … five minutes, Hannah.” He offered my coat and purse, and he gazed at me earnestly. “You want to get lost?”

*

Seth drove too fast and I didn’t care.

We made our escape by the patio door. I actually laughed as we rushed across the snowy lawn. Seth almost fell. So did I.

“What’s so funny?” he said when we were on the road.

“I feel like we’re bad children.”

“Oh, I am a bad child.” He grinned.

I hadn’t thought about where we would go, and though I was alone with Seth, I wasn’t frightened. I just wanted to get away from Nate and the reporter.

I needed to talk to Matt before I answered any more questions about Night Owl.

Besides, Matt and Nate were fundamentally good guys, and I assumed Seth was, too.

As if reading my mind, Seth said, “You’re not scared of me, are you?”

“No.”

“Good. I was rude earlier, I know. I wanted to see what kind of person you are. I thought you wrote that book, but you say you didn’t, and I believe you now.”

“Good.” I gave him a small smile. He looked ahead into the frozen night. He was part Nate, part Matt, part something of his own. The white tape on his knuckles shone in the dark.