“I’d like it if she were—”

“Tell me what the hell is going on.” My heart began to pulse palpably, audibly in my chest. My mind went to the baby. Yes, the baby—Chrissy and Seth’s child—which Hannah seemed to think I didn’t care about, but which was never far from my thoughts.

“Okay. All right, I’m sorry.” Nate’s voice broke. “It’s Seth. Please, go get Hannah.” He started to cry—guttural, shivery sounds. Horrible sounds. He apologized and begged me to call Hannah. He said that he would come to see me.

I began shaking like a frightened animal.

“God, please,” I said. “What’s happening?”

This is the big breath before you go under.

*   *   *

I ran barefoot down the dirt road.

Stones and burrs tore at my soles.

Get on the grass, I thought, and I did, but the grass was dry, full of points and toothy vines. Nothing is kind.

I searched for the creek. I don’t know why. Everywhere, I thought I heard its whisper.

I fell and lay in the road.

Headlights came bouncing toward me. I crawled into the grass.

The car crunched to a stop and I pressed my face against the earth.

“Hey, are you all right?” called a baritone voice.

Go away. I breathed in dust and coughed, my spittle tangy with adrenaline. A car door closed and hushed voices bickered quickly. I’m exhausted, I realized. My eyes wanted to stay shut. I felt the energy going out of me and the deep, sweeping pull of sleep.

I won’t be able to find the creek.

I could barely make a fist.

“Hello, sir?” said the voice, closer now. A shadow blocked the high beams.

I flopped over and gazed at the man.

“I fell,” I said.

“Okay, son. You look pretty torn up. You alone out here?”

I wasn’t alone. I probably wasn’t far from the house. I didn’t know, though, and the man asked too many questions. I closed my eyes as he propped me up in the grass.

“I’m calling the cops,” said a higher voice.

Oh, she sounded angry.

“We’re going to help you find your people,” said the man.

When I opened my eyes, I saw a little boy peering at me from the backseat of the car. The way he looked at me, I knew I was becoming a memory—slightly menacing, surely strange. Remember that man we found by the side of the road, all dazed and scratched up?

I felt sorry for him, because he was just a kid.

You don’t know what you’re getting into, being born.

Chapter 29

HANNAH

Nate Sky talked me through the worst night of my life—a night I have convinced myself I deserved. Didn’t Matt and I play with death once? We did. I lied and pretended; he wore it like a cheap Halloween mask.

Now it had come to collect.

“Sit down somewhere,” Nate said. “You stay on the phone. Matt might be in trouble. Listen and do what I say—it’s important.”

Then he explained that Seth’s heart had stopped.

“He was found in his hotel room. He was partying all weekend.”

“Where is he now?”

“Hannah. He’s gone.”

“Okay,” I said. But it wasn’t okay. But it had to be okay. Now I understood. My mind began to spin at the speed of panic. “You told Matt?”

“Yes. Are you sure he isn’t in the house?”

“Pretty positive. I’ll check right now.” I was already on my feet, running. I flicked on lights as I went. Flash, flash, flash. That huge house lit up room by room. Would I find Matt curled in a corner? Sprawled on the floor?

Gruesome images intruded.

“Get your cell and his. Keep them with you. Call nine-one-one.”

I started to shake—call 911?—and forced myself to be still.

“What do I say? Are you sure?”

“Yes. This is an emergency. I’m not sure if you…” He trailed off, then started over. “Tell them your fiancé just received news of his brother’s death and has gone missing. Give them the timeline. Tell them there’s a history of suicide attempt.”

Again, the shaking.

Again, I made myself relax.

“Okay. Calling now. I’ll call from my cell. Be right back.”

I dialed 911, which I had never done before, and after a series of quick questions, the dispatcher told me police and EMS were on the way. She instructed me to remain calm and double-checked my address. “Do not leave the residence,” she said. When she told me I could hang up, I ended the call robotically.

“Thank you, Hannah,” said Nate. “Are you okay?”

“Uh … no, yes…” I touched my chest and forehead. I couldn’t actually tell if I was okay. My mind kept spinning, spinning—this is an emergency, Seth’s heart stopped, Matt might be in trouble, I need you to stay calm.

This was not a dream.

Despite the dispatcher’s instructions, I walked around outside the house while I waited for the police. I called for Matt every few minutes. Chilly wind billowed through the meadow.

“The suicide attempt,” I said to Nate. “Tell me about it.”

“You didn’t know?”

“I read about it online—last year, when Bethany outed him. Fit to Print published a bunch of stuff.” Fear suppressed any embarrassment I might have felt. I spoke in a too-calm, measured voice, covering the receiver and lowering the phone when I hollered Matt’s name. “The article wasn’t detailed. It mentioned a psych ward…”