If only I could talk to him. I could call him. I should.

“God, just let it go,” I said aloud to myself.

Matt was moving boxes in our barren living room. Laurence shuffled and stamped. The chaos frightened him.

Matt smiled when he saw me.

Oh, that sight dispelled my cares—shirtless Matt, every muscle in his torso defined as he lowered a box. BIRD’S BOOKS, he’d written on the cardboard. I smiled softly back at him.

“Hi,” I said.

He came to me and kissed me full on the mouth. “Hi…”

We did our dopey-grinning routine, which had only gotten worse since we’d acquired a house, and packed quickly for our first weekend at the new place.

*   *   *

Our first weekend at the new place.

We hadn’t even moved our bed.

We slept on an air mattress on Friday night and in the tent, in the meadow, on Saturday. As I watched Matt, I remembered what Nate had said: His happiness is something else. It was.

He stormed around the house, dragging me with him.

“Look at this room.” Ducking in and out of bedrooms. “Look at this window! This view!” And then he had to go out, onto our land.

“Hannah, we own this,” he kept telling me. “Look at it. Look!”

I would look with him and see the field, the trees and layers of hillside … beautiful, magnificent, no doubt about it … but I never saw quite what he saw. Whatever he saw drove him a little crazy. “It provokes me,” he tried to explain, charging toward this or that glen. “It’s the same thing I feel when I look at you. I want to have an experience of you, possess you … in a way that I don’t understand.”

I didn’t ask for clarification. He was deliriously excited, and his excitement passed into me like a current. All day he was a boy—all night, some kind of animal, making love to me as if his life depended on it.

On Sunday evening, we built a fire in the great room—a fire, in August!—and sat on the cool stone floor. A wall of windows gave view to Mount Evans. Night came down cinematically, and I realized I hadn’t been online, watched a TV show, or even listened to music all weekend. I hadn’t wanted to. Matt and this place absorbed me.

I smiled and nestled against him.

The phone rang—the single phone we’d plugged in—and I jumped. Matt smoothed a hand across my brow. “Nate,” he said. “Or Ella or Rick. I wanted to test the landline.” He kissed my temple and jogged out of the room.

I grinned and admired the view.

“It’s Nate,” he called a moment later, his voice echoing down the hall. He sounded so pleased with himself. I laughed and flopped onto a pile of pillows.

Several minutes passed.

The fire started to die and I let it.

Shadows and light flickered on the wall.

Gosh, this place would be a little creepy if I were alone. I sat up and hugged myself. Well, Matt didn’t really go places without me … plus, we’d get a dog or two.

I stood and stretched.

I thought I heard the front door, which made me laugh.

Crazy boy. He kept going outside! He could barely stand to look out the window without vibrating like an excited dog—and then, whoosh, he’d go stalking out the door.

I padded down the hall.

“Matt?”

A faint, angry digital pulse grew louder as I walked. I turned into the kitchen. The cordless phone lay on the counter, the off-hook tone blaring.

“Damn it,” I muttered, slamming it into the cradle.

I hate that sound.

The phone began to ring and I yelped. I checked the caller, my heart hiccuping.

TRENTON, NJ.

I picked up quickly.

“Nate, I am so spooked! I just—”

“Hannah, where’s Matt?”

“Um, I think he’s”—I drifted toward the front of the house—“out in the yard?” I laughed. “But there’s a lot of yard—”

“Listen. Can you find him? Can you see him?”

The first rising note of panic sounded in my brain. Something is not right. Nate’s voice is wrong … different.

“It’s dark … it’s getting dark.” I cupped a hand against a window and peered out at blackness and my reflection. “I can’t—”

“Go out and call for him. Keep the phone. Stay on the line.”

“Nate, what’s—”

“Hannah, go.”

I’d never heard Nate speak like that—with that kind of anger and urgency. I ran to the front door, which hung open. Looking at it, and the panel of night beyond, I wanted to cry.

“I’m scared,” I said, stepping outside. “What’s happening?”

“It’s okay. Just call for him.”

I lowered the phone and called Matt’s name. Somehow, I knew he wasn’t there, but I strained to see. Maybe if he heard me …

“Matt!” I screamed. “Matt!”

The evening swallowed my voice and sent back no echo.

Chapter 28

MATT

“I tried your cell,” Nate said, “and Hannah’s.”

“Oh, I don’t even know where they are.” I laughed and leaned against the island, smiling indulgently at my new kitchen. Our new kitchen. “We’re living like hippies. This place—”

“Could you sit down? Is Hannah around?”

“She’s nearby.” My smile fell. “What’s up?”