Last Light(39)

“Did you?” she said. Her meaning was clear. Did you publish it?

I shook my head.

“Matt, you could have told me if you did. You can tell me. I won’t be upset, just—”

“I didn’t turn Night Owl into an e-book,” I snapped. That, at least, was true.

I turned away from Hannah and dragged a hand through my wet hair.

“I’m sorry, but I had to ask,” she said. “Do you get how weird this is? It makes no sense. I told you about the lawsuit, and the only other people who know are Seth and Nate … and Shapiro, obviously. And me. That’s it.” Her voice faltered as she worked through the logic.

“I know.”

“Like … what are the odds, I mean … it’s as if the person who published it knew. About the lawsuit. To suddenly pull the title off the Internet—”

“Coincidence,” I said. “It has to be a coincidence.”

“I guess. I know you didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t tell anyone but you.”

I moved away from Hannah, heading toward the couch and the broad western windows. A run through the woods would clear my head. That, or a swim in some half-frozen lake. Something painful and rigorous.

“Nate is seriously pissed,” Hannah persisted. She gnawed at a nail as she spoke. “At first, he was basically accusing me. You know, they all think I wrote it, and now—”

“You?” I laughed. “Please.”

“Excuse me? What is that supposed to mean?”

“You don’t write. I don’t get why they’d think you wrote it.”

“Uh, okay. I actually do write, just FYI. You remember how we met on a writing forum? But anyway … yeah, this is looking pretty bad for me.” Hannah laughed, the sound as bitter as mine. “Doesn’t matter, I guess. It’s not like they can prove I wrote it, since I didn’t.”

“Mm.”

Soft snow began to fall, slanting across the sky. It was hard to believe that a moment ago Hannah and I stood in the bathroom together, feeling so content.

No trace of that harmony remained.

“And Nate still plans to pursue the lawsuit,” Hannah said.

“Mm.”

“I’m glad you’re so concerned.”

“Hannah…” I rubbed my face. In the wake of strong emotion, I always feel void.

“Look, if it comes down to it, why don’t I just tell them you wrote it?”

“What?” I turned.

“Yeah. The truth, Matt. I’ll say that you wrote it, and that I have no idea how it got online. I’ll tell them you always e-mailed your stuff to yourself, and that maybe someone hacked your e-mail. You know, it would feel good to tell the truth for once.”

No kidding.

“No,” I said flatly. “No, I—”

“Matt, please. Let me say that. Nate will probably drop the lawsuit, and if he doesn’t, who cares? Let him sue the * who hacked your e-mail and put the book online. I know the book is embarrassing, trust me, but you don’t have to save face. You’re dead, remember? You’re never going to—”

“Stop it!” My voice echoed off the cabin walls. Hannah jumped about an inch in the air. “Please, just … stop it. I can’t—” I unclenched my hands. I can’t let Nate sue the person who put the book up for sale. I can’t let a stranger take a fall for me. Besides, would Melanie even take that fall? No, she’d roll over on me in a heartbeat. “I can’t think about this right now.”

Hannah’s shoulders fell and she wiped her eyes quickly.

“Fine,” she said. “Later, then. We’ll … handle it later. It’s just, I don’t live in a cabin in the woods, Matt.” She gestured around the cabin. “I can’t not think about this, okay? I have … Nate calling me, and I’ll have Shapiro hounding me. I live in the real world.”

I crossed the cabin and returned to Hannah. I folded her into a hug. If she doubted me, or if she suspected something was up with Night Owl and Mel’s call, I would have felt it. She didn’t. She melted against me with a sigh.

“Let’s not live in the real world.” I swayed with Hannah in my arms.

She gave a defeated laugh.

“Disappear with me,” I persisted. “It can be done. I don’t live in the real world.”

“I know you don’t.” She kissed my collarbone. “I’ve always known that. But I do, and I like it. I love my family, my job…”

“Mm, I know. It’s a nice thought, though, isn’t it? The two of us on the run. Sort of daring and romantic…” I smiled and sighed and let it go. I knew better than to push Hannah now. On the inside, though, I was exultant. The book was complicating her life. She called it embarrassing, said Shapiro was hounding her. To me, that meant she was one step farther from Denver and one step closer to us. I tapped her nose. “So you write, do you?”

“You know I do.”

“And what do you write, little bird?”

“Well.” She fidgeted. “There was … that story with you.”

“What, Lana and Cal? Oh, yes, the stuff of Pulitzers.”

Hannah grinned. “Uh-huh, super highbrow. But, no, I mean … I write.”