Night Owl(62)

Over the last five days, I sensed that Nate was giving me the brother test—making sure I was good enough for Matt, or insane enough. Casual conversations about my job or interests turned to grilling sessions, after which Nate was aloof and broody.

And as we cleaned the cabin, Nate periodically surveyed the wreckage and announced, "This is the way Matt is." His tone was always the same—uncompromising, almost proud—and I caught his meaning perfectly.

This is the way Matt is; take it or leave it.

Nate didn't realize that I was already all in.

Then, when Matt refused to see me in the hospital and I stayed on helping clean the cabin and pack, Nate's attitude started to change.

He began to talk openly about Matt's substance abuse.

I learned that Matt had detoxed half a dozen times before. He'd been in and out of hospitals and rehab. He'd also been to court more than once for drug possession, public intoxication, and drunk driving, always handily evading charges with the family lawyer.

Nate told me endless anecdotes about Matt. Funny stories. Scary stories. I drank it all in. I understood that Nate loved Matt desperately, and so we had something in common.

I paused with my hand on the basement door.

"Sure," I said, "what's up?"

I'd spent the last thirty minutes locked in conversation with Matt's niece, then Nate's wife, and finally admiring Owen's Lego collection. I was itching to get to Matt.

"Oh, nothing particular." Nate loosened his collar. The guy ran on mysterious funds of energy. After a week of flying, driving, cleaning, and packing, he didn't even look tired. "I've seen him go through this, you know. It's important that he take his meds."

"I know. I'll make sure he does."

"It won't be easy for a while, Hannah. He usually needs some time to snap out of it."

"The drinking?" I frowned. I was not equipped to rehab Matt, much as I wanted to.

"Oh, no. I doubt he'll drink. That was very situational."

Very situational. Very much my fault.

"What I mean is, he may not seem like his old self for a while. I'm sure you've noticed some of that already."

I nodded.

"And he's not your responsibility," Nate went on. "I'll arrange tickets for you two tomorrow, if I can, but if that's too soon—" He frowned. He was having a rare struggle with words. "Rather, you've done all I hoped, Hannah. More than I hoped. Please don't feel—well, you know I can keep him here for a while. I would do it happily. I would do anything for him."

Nate was staring up at the large, arched window above the front door. Afternoon sunlight warmed his face. Looking at him—his patience and seriousness—I knew that he meant what he said. He would do anything for Matt.

And still, I didn't doubt for a moment where Matt would be happiest.

No one could love him like I loved him. He belonged with me.

"Tomorrow is perfect," I said. I fully planned to reimburse Nate for the last-minute airfare, somehow. "The sooner we get back to our lives, the better."

"My thoughts exactly, Hannah. I'll move forward with the tickets then. You can run it by Matt, if you don't mind. And thank you, again. He's lucky to have you."

Nate kissed my cheek. The brush of his lips was so formal and chaste, but all I could think of was Matt's jealous stare. He'd hit the roof if he saw this.

I closed the basement door behind me.

I expected to find Matt asleep, but when I got downstairs I heard the shower running. Our suitcases stood in the bedroom. I pried off my boots and paced the plush carpet.

Valerie seemed nice enough, but holy hideous decorating scheme. She'd turned Nate's mansion into a dollhouse.

The shower ran... and ran as I paced.

I cased the kitchenette. There were sodas, fruit, and sandwich stuff in the fridge. That would do if Matt got hungry. Should I make him eat? God, I had no idea what I was doing.

I began to undress, laying my jeans and sweater over my suitcase. I shimmied out of my bra and thong. I didn't need a shower—I had one that morning—but I needed to be with Matt.

I let myself into the bathroom. Steam filled the spacious interior.

The girl in me got giddy looking at that bathroom. Valerie's princess décor may have failed in the house, but it worked like magic here. The rugs were lush, the towels fluffy and huge, and the sink brimmed with candles, lotions, and perfumes.

I shut the door loudly to announce my presence. When I drew back the shower curtain, I found Matt standing under the water, staring lifelessly at the drain. Our eyes met; he rolled his away with dog-like diffidence.

He may not seem like his old self for a while.

I stepped into the shower and eased my body under the spray.

"I guess we both like a hot shower," I said, my mouth near his ear.

He grimaced and looked away.

I didn't need anyone to tell me that Matt was mortified. I had seen him at his lowest. He would never willingly show me that.

I also didn't need anyone to tell me that Matt was happy to see me. His grimace notwithstanding, I felt his stiffening member touch my leg. I brushed against it and watched his eyelids flutter.

Between guilt and desire, he was static. I took his hand and brought it to my breast. He squeezed gently and I moaned.